Page 89 of Ruthless Legacy

Silver nods his head, listening. “Why can’t you ask Archer? There’s nothing those Aces don’t know about everyone in this bay and the neighbouring villages.”

“It’s complicated.” I pull the photograph of my parents from my schoolbag and place it on his desk. “This is my parents. I’ve put her date of birth on the back. She told me her maiden name was Parker, but that might not be true. I also know she was a fisherman’s daughter.”

Silver sits up in his seat and takes a hold of the photo, studying it. “It’s not much to go off, but I’ll see what I can do, but you might want to check grandaddy Wilbur’s office out. I imagine if anybody has info on your mum, it would be him.”

I don’t get a chance to respond as the teacher walks into the room and demands everyone faces the front and stops chatting. Silver has a point. I’ve heard before that the Aces have files on everyone here. Their deepest, darkest secrets were on record to ensure their loyalty. It is time to have a snoop around Wilbur’s office, as soon as the opportunity presents itself.

All I can think about all day is getting home and getting into his office. Archer asks me more than once if I’m okay, but he puts my distraction down to last night’s events and doesn’t push me.

It’s finally the end of the day and I insist Archer drops me off and leaves me. Reminding him that Edith and Calvin will be there, as well as the security personnel and guard dogs now in residence at the mansion, as well as all the extra security cameras and alarms. I spend fifteen minutes with Kit and Edith in the kitchen. Edith clucks and fusses over me and I’m touched by how worried she is for me.

I announce that I have homework to do and head up to my room. I grab a kirby grip from my dressing-table drawer and, in bare feet, I tip-toe back downstairs to Wilbur’s study. I fidget with the lock, whilst on high alert for the sounds of anyone heading this way. I fist bump the air when I hear the door unlock. Taking one last look to check no one is around; I enter the office and quietly close the door behind me.

I look around the room and ponder where to start. He has a wall that is floor to ceiling with bookshelves that hold many books, from Mandela’s biography to books on business. I walk around to the other side of his desk and pull open the drawers. I’m disappointed to find nothing worth my time. It’s just spare pens and paper. I sit down in his executive style chair and study the room. There had to be a safe in here somewhere. Or maybe he didn’t keep any documents here. Maybe he kept them in a safe in his bedroom or at his offices in London. This is useless.

“Caught you.”

I jump in my seat and find Chester standing in the doorway. I have been so lost in my thoughts again, I didn’t even hear him open the door.

“Close the fucking door,” I hiss at him, gesturing with my hand.

Taking his time, no doubt on purpose, he strolls into the room, hands in his pocket, and closes the door behind him. He drops into the seat opposite me and reaches onto the desk for a small wooden box. Opening it, he pulls out a cigar and puts his feet up on the desk. He lights it and sits back, puffing on it and smirking at me.

“What do you want, Chester?” I growl, frustrated that he has caught me in here.

“Uh-uh, I get to ask the questions here, love.” He blows rings of smoke into the room, making me cough. “I’m sure Wilbur would not be happy to know you have been snooping around his home office.”

“What’s it to you why I’m in here?” I snipe, folding my arms across my chest and glowering at him from across the table. The shady shit is enjoying making me squirm.

“What are you looking for? I might be able to help.”

This makes me laugh aloud. “Seriously? You expect me to believe that you would ever help me?”

His lips curl into a cunning smile. “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”

So, there it is. If I want him to keep quiet, I’ll have to give him something in return. “Okay. I’m looking for files on my parents.”

“Ah, I see,” he replies with a nod. We stare at each other in silence across the desk. “I might know where his safe is and how to get in.” He takes a puff on the cigar. “It will cost you, though.”

“Name your price, Chester. Let’s not play games here.”

He grins, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’ll owe me a favour.”

“A favour.” I scoff, narrowing my eyes at him. “What kind of favour?”

He smiles. It’s a cold and calculating smile. “A favour of my choosing that I can call upon when I decide and you’ll do it, no questions asked.”

“Nothing sexual,” I insist, and he chuckles, his eyes snaking down to my chest.

“As tempting as that could be, agreed. Nothing sexual.”

I lean over the table and hold out my hand. “Shake on it.”

Laughing, like he’s humouring a child, he leans up and places his larger hand in mine. “Deal.”

I have a feeling that one day in the future I’ll live to regret this, but right now, I don’t care. The need to find out more about my mother’s past is greater than the danger of owing this weasel a favour.

He takes another puff on the cigar, showing no signs of moving, and I tap my nails on the desk and glare at him. “Today would be nice,” I hiss. The longer I’m in here, the greater the chance someone finds me and then what excuse could I give for being in here?

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