Page 38 of Break My Rules

Saint laughs. “You never know. I saw a photo of his husband, Clive. A real silver fox.”

I know I should let him leave, but I can resist asking, “Have you thought about how we can approach Max or Hugh next?”

Saint’s smile slips, just a little. “Max is still in Europe,” he replies. “Doing God knows what, but it probably involves a yacht, bottle service, and half the women’s ski team. I was supposed to play squash with Hugh, but he pushed it to next week. I think he’s tied up with work, too.”

“OK,” I stifle my impatience. A day’s delay, a week… It makes no difference, in the end. If I bide my time, and play this smart, I’ll find the answers I need.

“You’re not going to rush into anything, are you?” Saint asks, searching my face.

I shake my head. “I promised you, didn’t I?” I ask, going to kiss him goodbye. “I’m fine waiting for you to call the play.”

Saint smiles again, pulling me into his arms. “Is that some American sports phrase?” he asks, teasing.

I grin. “Why? Do you have a thing for tailgates and cheerleaders?”

“I only know what one of those are, and yes, now that you mention it…”

He nuzzles my neck, and I playfully bat him away. “Tonight,” I promise, already anticipating his wicked touch. “We’ll see if you can give me something worth cheering for.”

“You can count on it.”

Saint heads to the office,and I settle in to plough through my reading list—without flinching at every bird chirping outside the windows this time. Still, although I’m finally able to relax now, without panic distracting me from my schedule, I can’t stop my mind from wandering, poring over the next suspect on my list.

Max Lancaster.

Handsome, charming, a media mogul in the making... His CEO father is pretty much all-powerful, and I already know that Max was closer to Wren than he’s letting on. But beyond that, their relationship is still a mystery, and I have no idea how it might be connected to her attack.

But maybe someone else does.

Getting a flash of inspiration, I pull out my phone, and text Max’s fiancée, Annabelle. She’s my age and has been the most friendly to me out of any of Saint’s friends. Her bubbly good humor has already confirmed details about the Blackthorn Society for me.

What other information might she have?

‘I’m in London… want to get lunch?’ I message her, and a moment later, a reply flashes up.

‘Omg yes! Spa day? Come join me.’

She texts an address and time, and even though I know I should be focused on my studies, I reply with a thumbs up.It’s research, I tell myself, closing my books. And no matter what else is going on in my life, finding Wren’s attacker has to come first.

Besides, after a tense night, I have to admit that the idea of a spa day is pretty tempting. And when I arrive at the address Annabelle sent, and find a chic modern spa, all marble and luxurious fresh roses, I know I made the right call.

“Tessa! Babe!”

Annabelle greets me in the lobby, wearing white leather knee-high boots with a fur trim, and a matching white parka that looks like she’s about to hit the slopes, not stroll Bond Street. “It’s so great you’re in town,” she exclaims happily, flashing me a perky smile. “I was just thinking we should get together, have some girl time. I want to hearallabout you and Saint.”

Annabelle breezes us through check-in, and soon, we’re both stripped down to our swimwear, steaming in a dimly lit plunge-pool and sipping on cucumber waters.

“Ahh,” Annabelle sinks into the water with a sigh. “I needed this. I swear, I’ve aged ten years just trying to keep this wedding from turning into a total shitshow. You know Max’s step-mom is trying to stick her nose into the planning? It’s like, babe, you’re wife number four, and even I know Cyrus is sniffing around for your replacement already. Ease up with the big opinions about my bridal bouquet!”

I smile. The plunge room is tiled like a Moroccan spa, with candles flickering, and just a couple of other people braving one of the ice baths in the far corner. “What does Max say about it all?” I ask, steering the conversation to my main topic of curiosity.

“Oh, he couldn’t care less about the planning,” Annabelle splashes a wave. “He’s still pushing for some wild elopement, but I mean, come on, my parents would kill me, and even the Lancasters want the full court press. Cyrus even suggested I do a full wedding shoot forHello!magazine,” she adds, beaming.

“Will you?”

She shakes her head. “Oh, Lord no. It’s so sweet of him to offer, but that’s a little too try-hard.Vogueis one thing, but the tabloids? But that’s typical for Cyrus,” she adds, confidential. “He thinks bigger is always better. It’s weird, you’d think running the biggest media company on the planet would make a man relax, but nope, I suppose he’ll always have something to prove.”

“Is Max like that, too?” I ask, sipping my water casually.

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