Page 33 of Some Like It Royal

Yeah. She was in so much trouble.

Chapter13

Daniel

Daniel couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun over a meal.

He’d actually managed to tempt her into another bite of the strawberry waffle. The whipped cream on the corner of her mouth had left him aching to clean it away for her, but her pink tongue slipped out and took away his excuse. By the time they climbed back into the car, their conversation shifted to tunes and she argued for control of the music. He insisted on using his phone. That was before she declared his music list hopeless and downloaded a Pandora app.

She erased all his complaints when Katy Perry started playing and she danced in her seat. Like the Madonna lyrics, she knew these too. He’d never been a fan of pop music, but Alyx rapidly revised his opinion. He followed the GPS instructions toward the address where she grew up, but the closer they came, the more dilapidated the neighborhood seemed to be.

It wasn’t until he pulled on to her street that he regretted the impulsive journey.

Halfway down the block he stopped the car next to the curb and fought the urge to curse. No houses remained. Nothing of a neighborhood was visible. Instead, a national chain’s superstore occupied a huge lot with a strip mall’s worth of little stores jutting out from each side.

He felt more than saw Alyx deflate. She turned away to look out the window, absorbing the scene.

“I’m sorry.” Two of the lamest words on the planet folded together, offering paltry compensation.

“It’s okay.” But the emptiness in her tone gave lie to that phrase.

“No, it’s not.” He leaned against the steering wheel and glared at the blacktopped parking lots and the sunlight bouncing off the cars. Why the hell didn’t he check with the P.I.? Copies of the news articles about her parents’ deaths had been in the files and he could have sworn there were photos of the house—but now he had to wonder if they were older images the investigator found.

“It’s okay, Daniel.” Her shoulders lifted and she folded her arms across her chest as she sat back in the seat. Gone was the loose bounce of her foot and nod of her head to the music. Her expression tightened, turning her lips down in a pensive frown. “Really. We should probably just head back to Los Angeles. I can get some more work done.”

Maybe that’s what they should do, but her touch-me-not aura aggravated him almost as much as the strip mall. “We’re not done. We could go down to social services and talk to them about your file.”

He plugged in the request to his phone, searching for a social services office in the area. It made sense that she would have gone into local foster custody before she began the pattern of bouncing from home to home.

“It’s not important.” The dullness of those words scraped over his nerves. “Really. We’ve already wasted a lot of time—not to mention money—on this.”

“My money to waste.” He didn’t mean to snap but it wasn’t a waste.Dammit.He focused on the phone’s GPS. The social services office was just ten blocks away—if the damn thing was still there. “And my time.”

“I forgot. You’re the boss.” The retreat turned into a full rout. Daniel cut a glance sideways at her, but she didn’t look at him. He touched a hand to her leg, the gesture almost tentative after the ease of earlier. But when she stiffened further, he backed off. Both hands on the steering wheel, he turned them around and followed the phone’s instructions.

Twenty cold minutes later, he pulled up in front of the nondescript and altogether depressing concrete building with Child Protection Services printed on the glass door in block letters. He slid out of the car and waited in the cool sunshine. He thought she was going to let him fend for himself, but after three long minutes, she stepped out, her normally expressive face fixed in a cool, detached mask.

She followed him to the door and he managed to grab the handle and open it a second before she did.

The office smelled like feet. Worn carpet and split vinyl demonstrated that the agency’s funds certainly didn’t cover their interiors. The noise level climbed exponentially and stacks of paper littered the myriad of desks forming a horseshoe beyond the receptionist. An older woman looked up at them with a careworn expression but sharp eyes.

“Can I help you?” The brisk tone ordered him to make it quick and not waste her time.

“You can.” He leaned an elbow on the counter and gave the receptionist a charming smile. “We’re here for the personal items of Alyx Dagmar. She would have been entered into the system sixteen years ago. Most of her belongings were not taken with her when she was placed.”

White eyebrows knitted together. “Sixteen years ago? And who are you?”

“Yes, sixteen years ago. I’m Daniel Voldakov.” He pulled out his ID and handed it to her. “And this is my fiancée, Alyx Dagmar.”

He glanced over his shoulder in time to catch Alyx wince at the word fiancée. But she pulled out her own ID and passed it over.

The receptionist scanned both cards and looked past Daniel to Alyx. “You don’t remember me, do you, sweetie?”

Alyx moved closer, almost brushing his arm, but shifting at the last minute to avoid contact. She studied the older woman. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I don’t.”

“Well, that’s to be expected. I was there the night they came to tell you about your parents. Probably best that you don’t have a crystal-clear memory of that.” She handed their IDs back. Her face wrinkled in a gentle smile.

“You weren’t my representative, though.” The question in Alyx’s voice betrayed her uncertainty.

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