Page 35 of Take My Throne

Chapter Thirteen

The day after the Bomber Derby I wake up late with a thumping headache. People kept refilling my champagne each time I emptied the glass. The cost of all the champagne I’d drunk would probably have been enough to keep Trudy in groceries for a month.

I get out of bed and stumble over to the bathroom. Looking at myself in the mirror, I look like death warmed up. I desperately need a shower.

Standing under the jet of hot water, I feel human again. I remember what Ally had said last night about a girl House group. Now that I’ve had a chance to sleep on it, it isn’t such a bad idea. Not only had she bullied Milly for years, she’d been dating Declan before he broke up with her to be with me. How could I trust anything she says?

Shutting off the water, I decide I need to go over to see Milly. She’s known Ally a lot longer than I have. She’ll know whether this is a good idea or another twisted scheme.

I walk out of the bathroom and almost run into Lucas.

“It lives!” he jokes.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Not now, Lucas. I’m not in the mood.”

“I didn’t think you would be after the amount of champagne you were downing last night. That’s why I’ve made you a full English breakfast, bacon, fried bread, bacon, beans, bacon, eggs, and did I mention bacon?”

“You made it?”

“Well, I got the cook to make it, but it was all my idea and the bacon is particularly crispy, just the way you like it. Come on. Baaaaa-cooooon!”

He finally coaxes a laugh out of me. “Fine. I don’t really feel like eating right now, but since you’ve made the cooks go to so much trouble, I’ll give it a go. I’ll meet you in the dining room in five, okay?”

“See you there.”

Lucas leaves to go downstairs, giving me some privacy to get dressed. I pull on a pair of frayed grey jeans and a T shirt with a picture of a grumpy hedgehog on it with the tagline I’m sorry I’m late. I didn’t want to come. It pretty much sums up my feelings at the moment. I’d much rather be having coffee at Milly’s than having to make small talk with Lucas, but I was taught never to waste food, so I was going to have to eat something.

Isabella sits with Lucas in the dining room, the two of them deep in conversation. When they see me walk in they immediately stop talking about whatever is so important.

“Have some food before it gets cold, Ivy,” Lucas invites, pulling out the chair next to him.

I take the seat he offers, looking out at the spread laid out on the table in front of us. There’s enough food to feed an army. I am going to have to disappoint my foster mother. No way am I going to be able to eat all this, not with how delicate I am feeling.

I pour myself a cup of coffee, thick and black. Just what I need. I close my eyes, inhaling the aroma. The caffeinated smell immediately perks me up.

“Isabella was just telling me that someone tried to break into your father’s study last night,” Lucas says. “You wouldn’t have any idea who that would be, would you?”

“Me?” I shake my head, years of lying to foster families giving me the ability to be convincing. “I was too busy partying to care what happened in that part of the house.”

“Well, your father will be back later today,” Isabella informs me. “So he’ll be able to review the security footage in his office for himself. After what happened with your three friends, he increased the number of cameras about the place, so there are a few in his office even the guards don’t know about. You can’t trust anyone, not even highly paid guards.”

“He’s coming back today?” It takes all my willpower not to show how nervous I am at the thought of Archer being caught on camera. It is more important than ever I get over to see him and Milly today.

“Yes,” Isabella says. “He’s finished with his business in Italy and he says he’s been missing you too much to want to stay away any longer.”

“How sweet of him.” I’m proud of being able to keep almost all the sarcasm out of my voice. “What was he doing there again?”

“That’s highly confidential,” Isabella deflects.

“You mean, you don’t know either?” I am being facetious, but the way Isabella’s cheeks coloured tells me I hit a nerve.

“I mean that if your father wants you to know why he was in Italy, he’ll tell you himself,” she snaps. “Lucas, he’s asked that you meet him at the airport. He has a few things he wants to talk about with you.”

“But not with me?”

“He only requested Lucas’s presence,” Isabella confirms.

“Wow. He really did miss me then,” I say. “Fine. I’ll go and see Milly then.”

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