The Price of Winning: London Calling Book Four (2 page)

For the millionth time, she reminded herself to get keys copied for them. She didn’t understand it, but the thought always slipped her mind until the next visit when they would patiently buzz the intercom to be let inside.
 

In the past Madeleine had been the one who visited them, since it was far easier for her to go out because of her father’s lingering rehabilitation. He’d borne the brunt of her attacker’s violence, suffering two gunshot wounds that nearly killed him. In the last year he’d made great strides in his health and consequently preferred to get out of the house more often. In fact, she no longer had to leave the penthouse to see them at all.

Madeleine told herself it benefitted them after so many years of isolated frustration. When she said so, she always took the lightning glances that passed between them to be agreement.
 

Never did she question the irony of celebrating their re-entry into the world while she quietly excused herself from it. And if she ever wondered about her own increasing solitude, she quickly dismissed the thought. Her parents would say something if they worried.

After all, they understood her so well.

***

Two days later Madeleine welcomed her parents for another visit, this time dinner.
 

“Mom, you look beautiful.” She opened her arms for a hug, inhaling her mother’s signature scent of vanilla and orchid. “And Dad. Handsome as always.” She bussed his cheek before holding him by the shoulders to look him up and down.

“You’re doing so well,” she exclaimed. Months ago he’d had surgery to replace his hip. When one of her attacker’s bullets caught him in the joint, orthopedists had pieced him back together at the time with various screws and bits. He hadn’t been in any shape, physically or financially, for another major procedure for a long time after.

Earlier this year Madeleine had convinced him she could help, at least with the expenses. And now it seemed nothing could stop him from reclaiming his previous mobility.
 

“I’m practically brand new,” he said. “I think I let the fear of being in the hospital again overcome my good judgment. I realize I wasted too much time.” He punctuated his declaration by executing a quick shuffle step. “Now I just have to convince your mother to go dancing with me.”

He held out his arm, inviting his wife to step into his embrace. Even though she was used to seeing it, Madeleine was always struck by the constancy of their love. They’d endured hell, but had come out on the other side just as strong—if not stronger—than before.

Madeleine smiled, feeling a little watery. “Dad, I’m so glad. And I can never apologize too many times for putting you both through all that.” She sniffed, leading the way into the penthouse so she could grab a tissue.

Her mother followed close on her heels and took hold of Madeleine’s arm as they reached the open living area. “Darling, how many times are you going to apologize for something that was never your fault?” She stopped, taking in the glass-topped dining table that was fully set and laden with food. “Honey?” She let her hand drop and her expression tightened. “I thought we were going out for dinner.”

Madeleine crossed her arms and swallowed. “I found out the restaurant delivers.” She crossed to the table and gestured to the spread. “Look, I have all your favorites,” she exclaimed. “Lasagna, Caesar salad, along with a terrific Barolo to drink.” Her hands fluttered in the air. “There’s cheesecake for dessert.” She stopped chattering to breathe. “This way we can have some privacy.”

Her mother sighed then darted a glance toward Madeleine’s father. He moved next to her.

“Maddy,” he began. “This is lovely. Truly. But you promised us you would try.” Her father’s light-brown eyes pleaded with her. “You can’t go on like this.”

Madeleine handed him the wine bottle. “This needs to breathe. Will you open it, Dad?” She adroitly sidestepped the subject. Her arm started to shake a little as her father hesitated.
 

Finally, he reached over and relieved her of the bottle, setting it back on the table. Draping an arm around his wife, he looked at Madeleine directly. His forehead creased. “Let’s sit down.”
 

Madeleine sat, grateful for the reprieve. “I hope everything is still hot.” Realizing she needed to serve, she stood again to reach for their plates. “If not, we can pop it in the microwave and hope for the best.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her dad briefly squeeze her mom’s shoulder. Then he pulled out a chair for her before seating himself.
 

Salad was passed, and wine was opened and poured.
 

For several long moments the only sound was cutlery scraping along china while each of them ate their meal. Just as Madeleine’s nerves were beginning to scream, her mother laid down her silverware and dabbed her mouth with a napkin, clearing her throat.

“Maddy,” she began. “You know how much we love you.” Her mother glanced at her father, who silently nodded. “Which is exactly why you need to listen to us.” As Madeleine moved to interrupt, her mother raised her hand between them, stopping her. “And
talk
to us.”

Madeleine shifted, crossing her ankles beneath her chair. Suddenly thirsty, she took a swallow of wine. “Okay,” she said. She realized she’d put this moment off for as long as her parents would allow. “Go on.”

Her mother smiled, and it seemed as if she relaxed in her chair. “You were always such an independent little girl. You demanded to pick your own clothes by the time you were three. You tied your shoes before anyone else your age. And you never once hesitated on stage, not even your very first night on Broadway.” Her mom’s eyes, so like her own, were closed as she remembered. When she opened them again, her gaze was unfocused. “We were so proud of you.” A shallow sigh, then her mother seemed to shake herself back into the present. She nodded toward her husband. “We still are. Honey?”

Madeleine looked at her father and was surprised to see a single tear run down his cheek. Alarmed, she said, “Dad? What is it?”

“You always apologize for what’s happened. But I want you to see that your mother and I don’t have a single regret.” Her father spoke softly. Reaching across the table, he took Madeleine’s hand in his own. “You’ve been our greatest adventure.”

Madeleine looked down to where her father’s hand covered her own. His skin was tanned, a testimony to the time he spent outdoors these days. Hers was pale. Small.
 

“And our greatest accomplishment.” He squeezed her fingers.
 

Madeleine swallowed a sob. “But—”

“No,” her mother said. “No
buts
.” Lines fanned out from her eyes as she smiled. “It’s past time for us to move forward as a family. There’s never been any need for regret. Worry, yes. But look at us.” She gestured to the three of them. “We are sitting here together, healthy and whole for the most part.” She patted her husband’s hand.
 

Madeleine’s father refilled their glasses. “As usual, your mother is right. There is no room here for sorrow.” He lifted his glass in a toast to Madeleine. “Or fear.”

At the mention of fear, Madeleine’s insides set to quivering. “I’m not scared.” She looked from one parent to the other, watching as the happiness faded from their eyes. “I’m
not
.”

Her father was the first to recover, and if the smile he adopted seemed a little forced, Madeleine chose to ignore it. She tapped her glass against his, hoping to move on to other topics.
 

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “That’s good. But it’s time to prove it.”
 

Shocked, she stared. Growing up her parents had been loving and supportive. They’d never been strict or demanding. In fact, she could say they’d given her room to make choices, encouraging her to find her own way.
 

Clearly, they’d decided to make a change.

“What do you mean?” she murmured. “I can’t prove how I feel.” She stabbed a piece of the salad and brought it to her lips. Despite the fact it was now wilted with dressing, she militantly chewed and swallowed. She gulped more wine to wash it down.

As Madeleine witnessed another glance between her parents, she knew they weren’t giving up.
 

“Actually, you can, Madeleine.” Her mother’s voice was firm.

Madeleine’s brows shot up. They almost never called her by her full name.
 

“We’ve been the ones to visit you for months now. We’ve become steadily more concerned seeing the way you lock yourself away here. It’s why we’ve been coming more often.”
 

Madeleine felt a sliver of self-pity worm its way into her heart. Why were they pushing her
now
?

Her father looked around the spacious room. “It’s a cage. No matter how luxurious or gilded, it is
still
a cage.”

She tucked her knife into her fork and laid them both on her plate. Most of the food she’d served herself still remained, cold and unappetizing. She took a deep breath. “I do leave here. I know you don’t believe me, but I do.”

Two pairs of eyes stared back, their expressions level. She felt fourteen again—like she was about to confess about a boy she’d kissed backstage.

“Granted, I go out alone and make sure I stay that way. I run. I go to the theater in the evenings, after dark.” There. She was being completely honest.

Her parents were holding hands now, their fingers linked atop the table.
 

“Good,” her father said. “That’s wonderful, honey.”
 

She could see the obvious love behind the compassion in his eyes. And her mother looked the same.
 

She owed them so much. Too much to become a disappointment.

“I promise to do better. Okay?” She adjusted the strap of her watch. It was a gift from them for one of her birthdays.

“That’s all we can ask.” Her mother smiled. “Will you at least try to meet us outside the penthouse sometime soon? We can go to the zoo or someplace fun. Somewhere we can get lost in a crowd.”

Madeleine appreciated the sentiment while wondering how on earth she’d manage. “Okay, Mom. The zoo it is. Or someplace fun. Maybe in a week or two?”

It was almost imperceptible, but her mother’s face seemed to drop. Then she brightened again, pasting on a broad smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Okay, Maddy.” She nodded. “Okay.”

Madeleine rose to clear the table and bring out dessert. She would try, with everything in her, to do as they asked. They were remarkable people, and she loved them with every cell in her body.
 

She tossed back her shoulders. She’d starred on Broadway. Walked runways in Milan and Paris.

For crying out loud, she could handle a
zoo
in Chicago.

By the end of the evening, she almost believed herself.

***

Sebastian Payne allowed the helicopter to fully settle onto the landing pad before he removed his headphones and seatbelt. He popped open his door and lightly jumped to the ground as the rotors continued to sweep overhead. He shut it then ducked down while jogging away from the pad. After twenty yards or so, he stopped, turned back, and signaled his pilot with a thumbs up. Almost immediately, the helicopter rose again with a shrill whine as it climbed back into the sky.
 

He stood for a moment or two, watching it ascend farther before banking west to return to England. As it disappeared from sight, he sighed, steeling himself for his upcoming meeting with Angeline Sinclair.

Sebastian crossed the immaculate grounds of his estate, admiring the vivid green grass and superbly manicured topiaries. He hopped a low stone wall to walk through the formal gardens, then stayed on the path taking him to the house. It was hot on Jersey today, but his home sat high atop a hill that overlooked St. Aubin’s Bay. The winds off the Channel kept it cooler than expected, so air conditioning was rarely needed. Even so, he left those details to Angeline as she was his business partner and resident houseguest. These days he almost considered it to be more her home than his.
 

In truth, it still belonged to his parents. His family had multiple holdings, some dating back nearly three hundred years. Frankly, Sebastian was a little embarrassed by it all. Some days he wished he could escape to Ireland, home of his mother’s ancestors, and live in a modest country home somewhere near the sea. Most days he knew how impossible that wish really was.

The house on Jersey was as close to a getaway retreat as the Payne family came. He still remembered when his parents purchased it, fresh after the traumatic kidnapping that took him away from them for over three weeks. He’d been ten.
 

He pulled the side door open that would take him inside. The space was open, airy, and light—all the things Sebastian preferred. He could recall his mother’s demands while the work was being done to redesign the house after they moved into it prematurely. She hadn’t wanted to wait, understanding and sharing her son’s need to be away from London and the estate where they’d lived before.
 

He shook off the thoughts and memories. He needed a clear head for his meeting with Angeline. And it never did him any good to remember the things he couldn’t change.
 

Sebastian was reasonably sure where he would find Angeline. He considered going straight to his room to strip out of the suit he was wearing. Instead, he toed off his shoes and carefully set his travel duffel near the door. Padding silently through the house, he paused when he reached the kitchen’s swinging door.

No matter how quiet he was, he knew he wouldn’t catch Angeline unaware. She was calm and invariably serene, even in the face of the worst situations and darkest predators. She never lost control, never revealed anything she didn’t intentionally wish to be seen.
 

She was a mystery.

She also refused any personal security. The estate had the most technologically advanced alarm system available on the planet, updated recently by Dominic Martin. Motion sensor cameras dotted the perimeters and exterior grounds. She adamantly denied Sebastian when he suggested some for the household interiors.