A Million Different Ways (A Horn Novel Book 1)

by Dangelico, P.

  My gaze met Sebastian’s and a sympathetic understanding passed between us. It was mind boggling that she could be so oblivious to the fact that her son was injured and in pain. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the horror of growing up with a woman like that. I found Mrs. Arnaud inspecting her nails, Mr. Bentifourt quietly conversing with François. He caught my attention and his head tipped in the direction of the dresser, where he had placed the medical supplies.

  “There are too many people in this room,” I declared, my critical gaze directed straight at Mrs. Redman. I wasn’t about to make any allowances for her rudeness because she had given birth to him. I waited patiently for her to get up. To no avail, she sat there watching me with a mulish expression that provoked me further.

  “Allons-y, allons-y.” Mrs. Arnaud clapped her hands, herding everyone out the door and down the hall. Caroline Pruitt paused in the doorway and glanced at us pointedly before leaving. A shiver of unease rippled across my skin.

  “Mrs. Redman, your son,” I paused meaningfully, “has endured a considerable amount of blood loss and pain. I need to clean the wound, kindly remove yourself.”

  Her bright, green eyes transformed into two slits. After what I had been through, it would take a lot more than her poisonous glares to intimidate the likes of me. “Who do you think you––”

  Bentifourt stepped forward, interrupting the list of insults she was about to hurl at me, and stated, “Mademoiselle Sava has a medical degree, madam.” I was so surprised by his unexpected gallantry that I turned to stare. A strange twinkle lurked in his dark eyes. I filed that away for later analysis.

  “Diana,” Sebastian added in his imperious tone. That must have been the magic combination of words because she left in a huff.

  “I’ve brought up all the necessary medication. Should I call for the helicopter to be readied?”

  “No!” Sebastian shouted. “It’s a fucking scratch.” Bentifourt didn’t even blink at the outburst.

  I placed clean towels under his arm and removed the binding gingerly. “It’s hardly a scratch, Mr. Horn. Stop moving or you’ll start bleeding again. You need antibiotics and you need to be seen by a doctor.”

  He gave me a cynical smirk at the sound of the formal address, then his gaze darted back to Mr. Bentifourt. “Call Dr. Schultz. He’ll come to the house,” he grumbled like a petulant teenage boy. After a subtle nod, Bentifourt walked out of the bedroom, leaving us alone.

  After preparing the Betadine solution, I said, “I’m flushing out the wound now…you almost fainted.”

  “I know,” he muttered, his eyes downcast while he smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle on the bed cover. He was embarrassed––and ridiculously adorable. I bit the inside of my cheek to curb a smile. He wouldn’t find it amusing. When he looked up, concern was written all over his breathtaking face. “Are you okay? I fell on you pretty hard.” Gently, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. I quickly scanned the open doorway before meeting his eyes again.

  “I’m fine. Who would have done this?”

  “I don’t know. The police are on their way.” His eyebrows pulled together.

  “Could it be a hunting accident?” The silence caused me to glance up. His face was stony, unreadable.

  “Could be,” he answered, nodding absently.

  “You don’t look like you believe that.”

  “I’m not sure yet. Did Ben go check the woods?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’ll figure it out. I don’t want you to worry.”

  While I wrapped the wound in sterile cotton, he placed his hand possessively on my knee, squeezed and held on tightly. He did that often. It was such a small gesture. But nothing Sebastian did was gratuitous, everything he did held purpose and meaning. My eyes darted back and forth to his hand as I worked, contemplating what it meant. And then it hit me…

  He held on to me as a child would for reassurance––afraid to let go. Shocked by the discovery, my breath stalled and a sudden sinking sensation gripped me. How in the world could a man at the top of the food chain, possessing power and prestige in abundance, feel this alone? My gaze lifted from his hand to his solemn, brandy colored eyes. I sighed. Unknowingly, he had just stolen another piece of my heart.

  Chapter Twenty

  “The police wish to speak to you, Vera,” Mr. Bentifourt announced.

  I looked up from slicing the chanterelle mushrooms for the risotto we were preparing for dinner and cut my index finger. Wincing, I dropped the bloody knife and it fell, clattering loudly onto the stone kitchen floor.

  “Vera, you’re bleeding!” Mrs. Arnaud ran over with a paper towel and wrapped it around my finger, keeping pressure on it.

  The police. Would they ask for papers? I immediately broke out in a nervous sweat.

  “They only want to ask about the events this morning. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Mr. Horn and Mr. Winters are in the living room with them,” Mr. Bentifourt reassured in a sympathetic tone. Another surprise. He was rarely sympathetic…or reassuring.

  A warm and comforting hand squeezed my shoulder. “Go chérie, Mr. Horn won’t let anything happen,” Mrs. Arnaud said in a super gentle voice.

  I went to the sink and washed my hands, using the time to pull myself together. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat and it wouldn’t be wise to meet them with a guilty expression that could be read from across the room.

  When I reached the door, I took a deep, calming breath and knocked. Once inside though, I went rigid under the intense scrutiny of four men. My eyes promptly searched for Sebastian. He was sitting in a stuffed chair, slouched casually. The warmth and encouragement in his gaze released a subtle tension I was unaware I was holding in my solar plexus.

  Two men sat on the couch opposite him. One of them was young and hard looking, the other, middle aged and thick around the belly. The young one sat on the edge of the couch full of alert energy. The older one kept stuffing his face with Mrs. Arnaud’s freshly baked madeleines and licking his fingers.

  “Vera, inspectors Duebel and Tribolet need to ask you a couple of questions about this morning.” My eyes lifted to the sound of the deep voice. Mr. Winters stood close to the window with his arms crossed over his wide chest. “It’ll only take a minute.” I walked to the empty chair next to Sebastian gripped by an overwhelming urge to touch him. For once, I needed the reassurance.

  “Please have a seat, mademoiselle,” said the older inspector without looking at me. He reached for another cake with his fingers dangling over them, his attention entirely absorbed by the selection process. He was either incredibly sly or incredibly stupid. I wasn’t taking any chances so I sat perfectly still, perched on the edge of my seat with my hands in my lap, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

  “My name is Duebel,” he informed me. Crumbs spilled from a mouth that reminded me of a carp’s. “My associate here is Tribolet.” He waved a crumb covered hand in the general direction of the man next to him. Then he brushed them together, dropping crumbs on the antique Aubusson rug under our feet. My eyes fell on those crumbs and narrowed.

  In the periphery of my vision, Sebastian forced down a smile. When I looked up, I found inspecteur Tribolet inspecting me with pointed interest and felt, rather than saw, Sebastian stiffen.

  “Let’s move this along, shall we.” His brusque tone earned the attention of both the inspectors, his intense focus now completely trained on the younger man.

  “Yes, of course, Mr. Horn,” said Deubel. “Mademoiselle, you were accompanying Mr. Horn on an errand through the woods on the north side of the estate? Correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And on the way back, about––” He checked his notes. “130 meters from the house, you heard a loud sound, a crack?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Mr. Horn pushed me to the ground. I had no idea what had happened at first––then I saw the blood on his bicep. I quickly inspected the wound and o
nly then realized that he had been shot. I took off his shirt and secured it around his arm to stop the bleeding.”

  “You were able to ascertain that you were no longer in immediate danger?”

  “Not at all, sir. I guess that was ignorance on my part. I thought it might have been a stray bullet.”

  “And then you walked back to the house? You heard nothing else?” he asked in an insipid tone.

  “Correct, sir.”

  “Your last name, mademoiselle? For my records,” Tribolet cut in.

  “I think you have enough for your records, inspectors. Mr. Winters will show you out. Please keep him apprised of any developments,” he announced in his usual ‘heir-to-the-throne and I own you’ voice.

  Tribolet didn’t take too kindly to it; his eyes narrowed and the side of his mouth curved up slightly in a creepy grin. Deubel gave Tribolet a quieting glance and motioned towards the door––thank heavens, before the bulls locked horns. Both men stood and proceeded to walk out with Mr. Winters bringing up the rear. Before exiting, however, they paused in the doorway.

  “Thank you, Mr. Horn. May I call if I have any more questions?” Tribolet asked, his tone bordering on mockery.

  There was an explicitly tense moment of silence as Sebastian’s glare warned Tribolet to heel. “Of course, inspector. I’ll help any way I can.” The touch of something sinister in the smile that followed gave me goose bumps. I never saw this side of him.

  As soon as the door closed, Sebastian manacled my wrist and pulled me onto his lap. I flopped down against him and tried, without much effort, to squirm loose; I wouldn’t risk bumping into his wound. “Are you crazy? Anyone can walk in!” The forceful whisper was completely useless in distracting him. He held me close and placed a string of sweet kisses up my throat, followed by an assertive scrape of teeth.

  “No one is walking in except for Ben, and he knows about us.”

  “How could you?” Empty words. I was sighing in pleasure while I said them. The devil knew exactly how to disarm me.

  “He’s my best friend, Vera.” His warm palm started moving up my inner thigh, closer to… a knock at the door startled me. I struggle to get off his lap. He held on firmly with his good arm however. Ben walked in, glanced at us with a blank expression, and threw his big body down on the couch with his long legs spread apart.

  I would have laughed were I on the outside looking in. The two men started talking casually as if it was an ordinary thing for me to be sitting upright and rigid as a corpse on Sebastian’s lap, my eyes as round as buttons, heat flashing up my neck. My fingers found the edge of my apron and fiddled nervously with it.

  “Did you find the shell casing?” Noting my unease, Sebastian pressed my hand flat and laced his fingers through mine.

  “Yeah… .300 Winchester Magnum,” Ben’s eyebrow twitched up. “Not likely anyone’s hunting big game around here.”

  They were both quiet for a while, an icy chill suddenly permeating the room. Sebastian sighed deeply and when I turned to study his face, I didn’t like what I found.

  “What does that mean?” My voice was high and tight. I waited patiently while Sebastian and Ben exchanged knowing glances.

  “It means that maybe this was no hunting accident,” he answered grimly and squeezed my hand.

  “Someone is intentionally trying to hurt you?!” Now I was legitimately worried. Cupping my face, he forced me to meet his eyes.

  “Look at me. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Vera, I’m going to have three of my best guys here by morning. Sebastian will be well protected––until we can figure out who’s behind this,” added Ben.

  “Your guys? I don’t understand. And what are the police doing about this??!”

  “Ben runs one of the most respected private security firms in the world. If anyone can figure this out, he can.”

  “Private security?” I was so inundated with information and raw emotion that I found myself repeating everything like an imbecile.

  “Yeah, all my guys are ex-Special Forces, ex-Mosaad. They’re the best at what they do.”

  “And what is that?” I asked, genuinely intrigued.

  “Hunt people down,” he replied, shrugging. Goosebumps popped up on my skin at the calmness of his reply.

  “What do they do once they’ve found them?”

  Ben’s eyes were glacial when he spoke again. “Whatever is necessary.”

  I had never seen such total lack of emotion on a human face. It was terrifying.

  * * *

  I lived on pins and needles the next couple of days, worried for Sebastian, worried that inspecteur Tribolet would get a bug up his rear and start snooping around. It wouldn’t take much to find out I was undocumented.

  As promised by Ben, three men arrived the morning after the shooting. Two of them looked like they were straight out of a Hollywood movie––large, brawny, and covered with tattoos that included Bible verses and skulls. Interesting combination, that. The larger man was bald, sporting a dark goatee, presumably to make him look even more menacing. The other was classically handsome, every feature perfectly symmetrical, and had a bored, unflappable look about him. And yet, out of the three, the less physically imposing one was indisputably scarier. He had a hyperaware look in his black as midnight eyes and a sardonic tilt to his mouth. Tall and slim, I couldn’t deny that he was handsome––in a villainous way. He reminded me of a picture I once saw in a textbook of a black mamba snake. Unremarkable and completely deadly.

  I had been summoned to Sebastian’s office and found him leaning against the back of his desk, gripping the edge. A king addressing his knights. As he made the introductions, I stood silently, organizing my thoughts. I needed to strike a delicate balance, communicating my apprehensions without undermining him in any way.

  “Vera, this is Bear Mahoney, Justin Luck, and Gideon Hirsch. They will be on duty until the situation is resolved.”

  I shook the bald one’s hand. “Bare, as in naked?”

  His face split with a perfect white grin. “No ma’am, as in the animal.”

  Mr. Bored and Handsome merely nodded, couldn’t be bothered to extract his hands from his pockets. “Ma’am,” was all he said.

  Mr. Hirsch took my hand and surprisingly placed a brief kiss on the back of my fingers. The word ‘assassin’ flashed through my mind. I didn’t have to look to see Sebastian stiffen and frown. Luckily, that’s all he did. In the silent moment that followed, I glanced at him and our gazes locked, a thousand questions self-evident in my eyes.

  “They need to know that we’re together. Their job protecting us depends on it.” His tone brooked no argument.

  He knew me so well, better that anyone had ever known me, and in such a short time. Unsettling, to say the least. The three knights watched me expectantly. For my agreement, I suppose. I was caught, trapped in a prison of my own making, and there was no escape. I could only hope that their professionalism extended to keeping secret affairs secret.

  “Miss Sava, I assure you that you have nothing to worry about,” Gideon Hirsch coolly stated. He seemed to be the brains of the outfit. “We will do our best not to get in the way but I advise you to check in with us whenever you leave the premises––as a precaution.” An intriguing accent. His R’s were soft, not quite rolled as with a French accent.

  A dull ache was developing between my eyes. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I said, “I’m sure Mr. Horn has confided in you that…umm, that…our relationship is not public knowledge…and I would like to keep it that way. How is this going to work? I don’t see why I need protecting. They aren’t after me.”

  Gideon Hirsch’s eyes were hooded when he spoke again. “The quickest way to hurt someone is to target the people they care about.” I stiffened and kept my gaze pinned on Mr. Hirsch, too proud to measure Sebastian’s reaction. I couldn’t have borne it had I found indifference. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize Mr. Horn’s safety?”

>   “Of course not,” I said, chastened.

  I left shortly afterwards, after what felt like a scolding by Mr. Hirsch. As I paused outside the door, I heard words that weakened my knees.

  “What do you know about her? I’m running a full check.”

  “No, you won’t, Gideon. I know all I need to know.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Sebastian. Let me do my job.”

  “I mean it––she’s off limits.”

  My heart was pounding as I walked back to the kitchen. I didn’t doubt that with Gideon Hirsch’s resources, he could uncover in an hour everything I was so desperately trying to hide. All the years of sacrifice…I had forsaken friendships, a social life, anything that would reveal my identity. I had been a ghost these past six years and now it was all in jeopardy because of one misstep. Never once did it occur to me that desire would be the instrument of my undoing.

  * * *

  A day later, Sebastian found me in the library, one foot perched on a stepping stool, the other wedged on the bookcase I was dusting. I didn’t see him the night prior. A message from him popped up on the computer screen around midnight. I lied about having a migraine and begged him not to come to my room. I knew it took a lot for him to obey my wish, and yet he had. I was fighting an uphill battle not to fall into a comfortable routine spending every night making love until I barely had the energy to crawl back to my room. It was dangerously easy for us to be together.

  “I’m staying at the apartment tonight. I have a late business dinner, but I’m taking you to Geneva tomorrow afternoon. We’ll stay there overnight.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Be ready.”

  “I can’t get the time off!” I replied in a shouty whisper.

  He wrapped his arms around my waist, buried his face among the folds of my skirt, and bit my rear end.

  “Ouch!”

  “That’s what you get for arguing.” His devilish fingers coasted down my waist and up my skirt. My legs trembled.