Page 371 of Lodestar

“At least he knows how to treat his guests right?” I muttered as I reached for a thin sandwich the length of my middle finger and without crusts. My nose crinkled. “Why is this cucumber not with cream cheese and chives?”

“British tradition.”

“The Brits ruin everything.”

Her lips twitched as she drank her tea then, on a sorry exhalation, mumbled, “Years of living outside the UK, and I still prefer tea.”

“Never see you drinking it.”

“Coffee’s easier to prepare.”

“Is it?”

She shrugged. “Filter coffee is always warm. Plus, we’re heathens in the US and we microwave the water, not boil it. Then there’s the fact coffee doesn’t taste vile in travel mugs like tea does.”

I snatched a mini croissant that was split in half and loaded with what looked like tuna salad but was, in fact, some kind of crab concoction. Whichever, it tasted damn good.

“Didn’t take you for a nervous eater.”

Her remark had me shrugging. “I’m not nervous.”

“I am,” was her flat response.

“Why?”

“Everything’s changing. I can feel it.”

“Changing for the worst?”

“I’ve burned bridges. I didn’t intend on doing that. You don’t make enemies of the Four Horsemen.”

“Do they usually treat their enemies to afternoon tea at Harrods? Because I can guarantee Da’s enemies wish they’d gotten the star treatment like this.”

Her lips curved. “True. It’s not exactly torture, is it?”

“No. So, what’s the problem?”

“Change is… hard to cope with for someone like me.”

“A control freak?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

I placed my hand on her shoulder. “You’re not alone now, though.”

“No,” she whispered, gaze clashing with mine.

“Your enemies are mine and vice versa.”

“Yes.”

“So, what’s the problem?” I repeated.

She swallowed, nodded more to herself than to me, then reached for a sandwich. “No problem.”

25

STAR

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