Page 8 of Finding Lord Landry

“You tell them you’re done. Hell, you tell them you have to go home and take over the family business. They’ll understand, especially when they learn who you really are.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Not easy, maybe, but simple. Your father needs you, Landry. And it wasn’t like you were going to hide from your responsibilities forever.”

“I have a couple of weeks free after tomorrow’s shoot,” I offered. “I was going to use that time to deal with estate business remotely, but I can do it in London and check on Dad.”

She studied me. “And while you’re there, we can make a plan for you to meet with the prime minister to talk about serving in the Lords.”

“Not yet.” I held up a hand. “Please, Nan. This is not my agreement to make anything official. It’s my agreement to come check on Dad and help out, okay?”

I expected her to argue further or at least call me out for being in denial, so her sigh of relief surprised me. “I’m just happy you can come. I’m sure once you see the state of things, you’ll feel ready to finally take your place where you belong. Back home with us.”

I tucked into my salad despite the nerves churning up my stomach.

Maybe Nan was right. I wanted to retire from modeling anyway, things with Kenji seemed to be in a perpetual stalemate, and managing the estate already took a lot of my time and attention. Would it really be so bad to claim the role of heir publicly?

It didn’t take long for me to learn that the answer to that question was an unequivocalyes.

THREE

KENJI

I stepped off the plane into a tropical paradise. Despite the first-class seat and the large amount of work I’d been able to finish overnight, eleven hours of flying had left me feeling stiff and restless. The warm air sliding under my hair and across my skin was a much-needed improvement over the cold, dark city I’d left behind.

The island nation of San Cordova was sunny and breezy. Rolling hills in the near distance were striped with regimented rows of coffee plants, and the mountains beyond were covered in the deep green of tropical trees. Seabirds swooped lazily over the water on the other side of us, and the sun’s reflection danced on the waves.

There was a sense of peace here, completely the opposite of the bustle of the city. As I moved with the other passengers through customs and into the luggage hall of the tiny, open airport, I forced myself to drop my shoulders and leave the stress of New York behind.

I was here to relax. To focus on myself. To be mindful and meditative. To anchor myself for the coming year and reflect on the previous one.

To take stock of where I was in my life, what I wanted, and what changes I needed to make.

I stood up straighter and brushed the wrinkles out of my trousers just as my phone buzzed with a message from one of my bosses in the Brotherhood.

Bash

I know you’re on vacation, but do you know who we use for liability insurance? I can’t find it anywhere.

My blood pressure inched up.

Why? What’s going on?

Bash

Don’t worry about it. Was his name Jim Something? Jed?

I took a deep breath and pulled up the contact for Jessica Covey before sharing it with Bash.

Bash

I was close. Thanks!

I slid the phone back into my pocket and stepped forward to grab my suitcase when the luggage attendant flung it off his metal cart and into the collection area. Several other tourists were doing the same, and I wondered which ones were there for the retreat.

Near the exit doors, an attractive young man in a clean white tank and tan linen pants with leather sandals held up an iPad with the name of the retreat on it.

“Hi, I’m Kenji Toma,” I said, nodding toward his tablet. “I’m one of your arrivals.”

---