He turned it on and passed it to her, before informing Gilles of his plans to hit the road earlier than he’d intended.
While Gilles tried to convince him to reconsider, Ava’s phone beeped a string of incoming messages. They both turned to see her frowning at it.
Wolfe immediately felt his guard go up. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘My father has left ten messages. Excuse me while I retrieve them.’
She dialled a number and pressed the phone to her ear at the same time as Gilles’s butler hurried into the foyer.
Momentarily distracted when he handed Gilles a piece of paper, Wolfe returned his gaze to Ava in time to see the colour leach out of her face.
She turned almost blindly to Gilles, her breathing erratic. ‘Frédéric has been involved in an accident. Gilles…’ Her voice trailed off when Gilles looked at her, and if possible she lost even more colour. ‘Quoi?’
Wolfe didn’t think she’d realised that she had reached out and was gripping his forearm in a talonlike hold.
Gilles shook his head as if in a daze.
Hell.
‘I need to speak with my father. Find out what hospital he is in.’ Ava’s shaky hands fumbled with the phone, and it would have dropped if Wolfe hadn’t swiftly bent to catch it.
‘Ava, he’s not in hospital.’
‘Ne sois pas absurde, Gilles. The accident sounds serious.’ She shook her head, unable to say more.
Wolfe cursed under his breath.
‘Ava—’
‘No.’ She held up her hand and cut him off, backing away from both of them, so disorientated she would have bumped into the wall if Wolfe hadn’t reached out and grabbed her by the elbows.
‘Breathe, Ava,’ he instructed levelly. ‘In. Out. That’s it.’
Her gaze cleared a little and her body went rigid as she pushed his hand away. ‘I’m fine.’
Wolfe’s mouth tightened. ‘Give me the phone,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll call your father.’
She swallowed heavily, her navy eyes bruised. He would have wrapped his arms around her then, pulled her in close, but she was so rigid she might as well have been wearing armour. He’d thought he’d sensed fragility in her—the same as he’d sensed last night—but if he had it was long gone.
Ignoring the voice in his head that told him he should butt out of her affairs and mind his own business, he scrolled through her phone. When he couldn’t find an entry under ‘Dad’ or ‘Father’ he glanced at her. ‘What’s his name?’
‘It’s listed under “The Tyrant”.’
Her chin came up, as if defying him to make a comment; the action told him that the moniker hadn’t been given in jest. But was her father really a tyrant? Or was she just another spoilt little girl who threw tantrums when things didn’t go her way? And why did he even care?
Dumping a lid on the list of questions forming in his mind, he quickly dialled the number and introduced himself when the King answered on the first ring. ‘Your Majesty, this is James Wolfe, head of Wolfe Inc. I have your daughter here. Yes, Gilles is with her. Ava?’
She took the phone with a shaky hand. ‘Sir—’
Her voice trembled and despite trying to keep himself detached the sound of it cut Wolfe to the quick.
‘Of course. Oui. I can get a flight. Yes. Okay.’ She rang off and frowned at the phone as if she didn’t know what it was doing there.
‘Ava?’
She glanced at Gilles as if she didn’t know what he was doing there either.
Shock. She was going into shock. Wolfe recognised the signs.
‘I have to…’ She gave a tiny shake of her head, collected herself. ‘I…Frédéric has died. He…I have to organise a flight home.’
Gilles barely blinked, but Wolfe could see his friend’s utter devastation below the façade of calm. ‘Wolfe, can we borrow your plane?’
‘Of course. But there’s no we, Gilles. I’ll take her.’
‘Frédéric was a good friend. I’ll—’
‘You should be with Anne—’
‘I can organise myself,’ Ava cut in.
Wolfe’s hands clenched into fists when Gilles put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Don’t be silly, Ava. You can’t be alone at a time like this.’
‘Shouldn’t your priority be to your new wife and your house guests?’ Wolfe hated himself for reminding Gilles so flatly. Hated himself for the stab of jealousy over a woman he’d never planned to see again.
‘Would you two stop?’ Ava demanded. ‘I am more than capable of—’
‘Getting on my plane and letting me escort you home,’ Wolfe commanded.
She scowled up at him. ‘I don’t want to put you out.’
Wolfe didn’t know if she was being stoic or just obstinate, but he knew he wasn’t letting Gilles take her to Anders. ‘Too late,’ he growled.
When the butler approached Gilles again Wolfe stepped closer to Ava, invading her personal space. ‘Is that your only suitcase?’
She stepped back. ‘I told you before. I don’t get off on barbaric men.’
Her view of him grated but he pushed his feelings aside. ‘Do you really have time to argue?’
‘No.’ His words seemed to trigger something inside her and her eyes grew distant. She paced. Looked at Gilles and then turned back to him. ‘Fine. You may take me.’
Wolfe mentally shook his head, almost awed at the way she’d managed to turn her acceptance into an order.
Ava was functioning on autopilot and barely registered Wolfe buckling her seat belt while the plane taxied down the runway. Somehow he had got her to Lille and on board a plane without her conscious awareness of it.
Her brother was dead.
The news was shocking. Indescribable.
A helicopter accident. Ava couldn’t think about it, her mind incoherent with grief. Her brother was the rock of the family. The future heir. He was five years younger than her and, while they had struggled to be close after her mother died, she had always looked out for him. Anticipated that he would always be there. He couldn’t be gone. He was only twenty-four.
She shivered and felt a soft blanket settle over her shoulders. She clutched it.
Wolfe
