Page 54 of Hollywood Games
Cassie let out a tinkly laugh. ‘Don’t hold back on my account. You should have heard the Duke of Edinburgh back in the day. You know it’s true that sailors have the most colourful language.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, you should have heard my CO.’
‘Which one? Burleigh-Stanton or Fitzmorris?’
Rory came to an abrupt stop and stared down at her.
She winked.
‘I have done my homework, Rory. But don’t worry, none of these details will go into the article. Shall we start in the great hall?’
Cassie gently led Rory down the corridor. It seemed her prep work for the interview had been so extensive it involved memorising the floor plan of the castle. Mercifully the room was empty and he allowed himself to be led to the thrones at the far end like a lamb to the slaughter. She sat him down and stepped back so Kitty could take more photos.
‘So, Rory, what’s the best thing to come out of your years in the army?’
‘Bandit,’ he replied without hesitation.
‘Your unit’s service dog?’
Rory nodded.
‘Oh how divine, do tell me all about him.’
It appearedthat Bandit was the key to unlocking Rory. The subject of his beloved dog was more effective than sodium pentothal in getting him to open up, and soon he was telling Cassie how Bandit had helped his recovery after the IED attack which left him depressed and addicted to painkillers. They continued chatting then Cassie moved in for the kill.
‘So, tell me, what kind of woman are you interested in?’ she asked, looking at him as if he was breakfast, lunch and dinner served together on a chocolate plate.
Rory flushed. ‘Tall, curly red hair, and brown eyes.’
‘Well, that rules me out,’ Cassandra said flirtatiously. ‘And what about personality? What are you looking for?’
‘Fire,’ was Rory’s succinct answer. Cassie fanned herself. ‘Do you have everything you need?’ Now Zoe had returned to the forefront of his mind, he was keen to get back to her. She was still evasive around him and he knew something was wrong. Until he found out what it was, his senses would be raw and on edge.
As he escorted the women back to the main door, he noticed a couple of empty wine bottles and a plate of gnawed chicken drumsticks tucked behind a fire extinguisher. Even at a glance he could tell the dusty bottles were from the remains of his father’s collection that was in a locked cellar. His mind went to Vlad. Had he broken in? And was his imperviousness to laxatives due to flushing his meals down the toilet and eating proper food?
He stood outside the entrance to the castle until Cassie’s taxi left the gates, then turned abruptly, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He needed to get changed and head straight to the cabin. He stopped, as a familiar black shape peeled itself off the stonework. For someone who should have been living on the toilet for the last week, Vlad looked remarkably well.
Rory eyed him. ‘Do you know anything about bottles of my father’s wine that have been taken from the cellar?’
Vlad shrugged his shoulders. ‘You should be more interested in something else that belonged to your father.’ Rory’s mind was blank as he tried to visualise the furniture and whether any of it had gone missing. Vlad smiled. ‘The countess,’ he stated. ‘Still so ripe for the plucking.’
Rory moved before he was even aware, pinning Vlad by the throat against the castle wall. ‘I’m going to fucking kill you,’ he hissed. ‘What have you done?’
Vlad’s face was red, the folds of his chin pushed up by Rory’s hands. ‘I haven’t done anything,’ he grunted. ‘But Brad has.’
Rory dropped him and stepped back, a storm of uncertainty and confusion rushing through him.
Vlad rubbed at his neck and smirked. ‘For a big man, you have a very little brain.’
Rory turned and stalked back into the castle. It couldn’t be true. He needed to find his mother.
He found her in the flat, sitting at her laptop. She hastily shut it, put her reading glasses to the top of her head and looked up.
‘Tell me it isn’t true,’ he asked roughly, his throat tight. He saw shock, fear and guilt cross his mother’s face. He staggered back, rage boiling behind his eyeballs, as he was pushed into a waking nightmare, far more terrible than he could ever have imagined. He caught his feet against the sideboard behind him with a crash.
‘That little snake!’ his mother snapped.
‘What?’
