Because We Belong (Because You Are Mine 3)

“As you know, Ms. Everherd is the housekeeping supervisor. She came to me with a concern this morning, and I thought it best . . . well . . . with everything that’s been going on,” Mrs. Hanson said delicately, “that she report it to you straightaway.”

“What’s wrong, Ms. Everherd?” James asked.

“The staff has been informed about tightening up security around Belford Hall, your lordship, and we’ve all taken pains to be ever so careful. Most of us have, that is,” Ms. Everherd said, glancing behind at Clarisse, her mouth set in a severe line. Clarisse looked very pale and younger than usual.

“Your lordship, I do apologize,” she said quietly, her blue eyes shiny with anxiety. “I reported it to Mrs. Everherd as soon as I realized it was missing. It seems I’ve misplaced my passkey.”

“Again,” Ms. Everherd said severely.

Clarisse blushed and stared at the carpet. Francesca experienced a sharp pang of discomfort for the friendly young woman. She wished she could excuse herself and vacate the room, sure Clarisse didn’t appreciate being called out like a child in front of an audience.

Gerard tossed his napkin on the table. “Really, Clarisse? When we’ve made it clear how important security is, especially with this press conference this morning.”

“Do you know when you misplaced the key, Clarisse?” Ian asked her.

“No, sir,” Clarisse said miserably. “It might have been anytime between yesterday afternoon and this morning.” She blushed bright red. “I thought I used it to get into work this morning, but Catherine, the assistant cook, said I came in the back door with her.”

“She’s a featherhead,” Ms. Everherd declared in a hard voice. “This isn’t the first time Clarisse has lost her passkey.”

“It’ll be all right,” Ian said calmly. “I can get her a new passkey when I finish up here and delete her old code.”

“Clarisse, you really should be more careful,” Gerard chastised mildly as he stirred cream into his coffee. “As if Ian doesn’t have enough to be worried about with this press conference. Now our security has been breached.”

“It’s not all that bad. A lost key doesn’t equate to catastrophe. It can be rectified easily enough,” Ian said evenly. Francesca gave him a thankful glance for sparing Clarisse more shame. The maid looked miserable.

“It’ll all be taken care of, no harm done. Thank you all,” James said, including Clarisse in his glance, “for bringing the issue to our attention so it can be rectified.”

Francesca felt extremely awkward when the three women filed out of the room. She considered Clarisse a friend, and hadn’t enjoyed sitting at the table like one of her condemners.

Everyone continued eating in silence. Everyone but Ian, that is, Francesca realized. She slowed in chewing her toast when she saw the way Ian was sipping his coffee and studying Gerard through a narrow-eyed stare.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Gerard waited patiently in James’s private office. He knew James would be near Ian’s side for every second of the press conference, always ready to show absolute support for that apple of his eye, his tragic, perfect grandson. Gerard rolled his eyes at the thought. Gerard had used James’s office in the past and was very familiar with the venerable room. When he’d mentioned he had important business to attend to and needed to miss the press conference, James had insisted he use his office, just as Gerard had known he would.

Gerard certainly had crucial business to attend to today.

Brodsik was late. The man was almost as scattered as Clarisse, and twice as thick. Add a healthy dose of greed to that combination, and it was the recipe for volatility. He hated when he had to put even a small amount of trust in men such as Brodsik and Stern. Stern, he’d already disposed of soon after the criminal partners arrived in England. Brodsik, he needed. Brodsik had been the one Francesca saw in Chicago, after all. His was the face that Ian and she equated to threat. Stern, on the other hand, was a walking, talking loose end with absolutely no purpose whatsoever to Gerard. He’d had to go early on.

Gerard had been forced against his better judgment to hire the two men after Francesca had blocked his plans to financially gain control of Noble Enterprises in a hostile takeover. Once that had occurred, he’d known he had to find a way to bring Ian out of hiding, and what would galvanize his noble cousin more than a potential threat to his abandoned lover? True, it’d been a risk. Ian had left his fiancée, after all. Perhaps he wouldn’t care if Francesca were threatened? But no, Gerard had been correct. The moment Francesca had been in danger, he’d flown onto the scene, ready to play the role of tragic knight in shining armor.

He read Ian as effortlessly as a cheap novel.

It’d worked perfectly. The time to strike was now. He couldn’t very well get Ian in his sights if he remained mysteriously invisible. Ian was vulnerable. No one would be utterly shocked when he finally went over the edge and took Francesca with him.

He checked his watch and scowled. In the distance, he could hear the muted sound of Ian speaking in the microphone. The press conference had begun. His cousin was busy rallying the troops, showing the world the face of a confident, brilliant leader.

But Gerard knew the truth. The password he’d deciphered from the surveillance video had worked. He’d copied Ian’s files yesterday. All of them. He’d had the opportunity to begin to go through them last night—after he’d listened in on Ian and Francesca’s rousing lovemaking, that is. Damn Ian for continually fucking in places Gerard couldn’t determine beforehand, however. He’d repositioned one of the two cameras in Ian’s suite, no longer needing the one aimed on the desk and computer. He’d positioned the surveillance camera in a spot where he’d thought Ian had sported with Francesca last night. But as in all things, Ian had refused to cooperate with Gerard’s plans. He’d been forced to only listen as Francesca was paddled. Afterward, he’d masturbated as he’d eagerly listened to the sounds of her being sodomized. His climax had been so explosive after that, he hadn’t bothered to spy on the couple’s sexual activities any more. Instead, he’d plunged into Ian’s computer files.