The harsh, bright ring of the doorbell cut through the night.
Theron reared back, dark slashes of crimson on his cheeks, matching—she was sure—those on her own, his hungry gaze consuming hers until the doorbell rang again and he stepped back. Summer hugged her arms around her body, pulling the edges of her shawl around her shoulders before turning away from the look of...what, regret? Frustration? She didn’t want to know.
Hurrying down the corridors, she called that she was coming to whoever it could be at the door at this time of night. The doorbell rang again, spiking her adrenaline for some reason, the urgency of it scratching against her delicate nerves.
She pulled open the door, the heat she felt from Theron hovering in the dark corridor behind her giving her a sense of safety.
A small, bespectacled man stood blinking up at her, frowning as if she were not what he’d expected. Behind him was a long sleek town car with three dark-suited men who, at the sight of Theron looming behind her, came to stand tall, puffing out their chests as if to meet power with power.
She refocused on the man in front of her.
‘Ms Summer Soames?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can I see some identification?’
‘Why?’
He inhaled, as if frustrated by her response. ‘What I have is—I’ve been told—of great importance to you and your family and I will not give it into the wrong hands,’ he said, his voice imperious. ‘It is from Ms Star Soames. I have brought it all the way, in person, from—’
‘Duratra! It’s the necklace!’ Summer cried, making the bespectacled man wince, the suited men around the car start, and Theron draw one step closer. ‘Don’t go anywhere! Don’t move! Theron, please make sure—’
‘They don’t leave. Got it,’ he said as she disappeared into the bowels of the house to retrieve her wallet. She ran, the whole time her pulse racing, but never as wildly as it had when Theron had kissed her.
It was the key. It was here. Finally.
So why did her thoughts keep veering back to the kiss? Why did she stop in the middle of the corridor to bite her lip where his lips had touched, to try and hold that sense of him to her, instead of rushing to retrieve her identification? Her breath juddered in her chest and she put her hand half out to steady herself. But then she steeled her spine.
It was the key. It was here and she needed it. Now.
She returned to the front of the house with her passport and showed it to the man, who bowed low and when he righted himself presented her with a package as solemnly as if it were a crown jewel.
The man eyed Theron suspiciously, then snapped his fingers and he and the suited men disappeared into the car, which turned in a slow arc before grinding down the gravel path away from the estate.
Last night...
Lykos howled with laughter. ‘I still can’t believe you took a convertible to Norfolk. EvenI’mnot that ridiculous.’
‘The English can’t drive. It was not my fault.’
‘You keep telling yourself that,’ Lykos said with a smirk on his lips. ‘Drink up.’
Theron took the last mouthful of his whisky and pulled on his jacket as Lykos palmed an obscene number of notes off to a very happy-looking waitress. As he shrugged into the sleeves of his coat, he could have sworn he still smelt the salt of the North Sea.
‘You remembered it wrong, by the way.Yousaw the photo and forced me to agree that we should give it back,’ Lykos stated as they stepped out of Victoriana onto the wet pavement, throwing his collar up against the rain, ignoring the man with an umbrella and stalking towards the sleek town car waiting for them.
Theron stood on the steps, staring not at Lykos, holding the door open for him, or the black cabs and yellow lights of London, but the way Summer had run off into the house after receiving the package from Duratra, her focus so all-consuming.
‘Look, get in the car, don’t get in the car. Not my concern. Whatever you’re going to do, do it,’ Lykos said, sliding into the back of the car, leaving the door open.
He got in and closed the door, turning to Lykos, scanning his phone for something.
‘There’s nothing wrong with my memory,’ Theron said.
‘I ought to sue you for misrepresentation.’
Theron waved him off. After a while he couldn’t help himself. ‘What are you doing?’