Chapter 17: Heir or Husband

Damian Karras read the message from the unknown number three times before he woke her.

He had promised himself no more locked doors.

"Lena."

"Mm."

"My grandfather wants me at the house at six. I'm telling you because I said I would."

She opened her eyes and looked at him in the grey light.

"Alone?"

"Alone."

"Go," she said. "Come back."

It was the nearest thing to trust she had given him in two weeks, and he held it all the way across the park.

The house on Seventy-First Street was quiet at that hour.

A maid let him in through the kitchen.

He stopped in the pantry doorway, because someone was standing by the back door with her coat buttoned to her chin.

Phoebe Danner.

She had her back to him.

A man in a grey suit, Papou's secretary, handed her a plain white envelope, and she tucked it into her bag without counting.

Then she slipped out through the garden gate.

Damian did not move for a full minute.

He had known it in his head since the message lit up his phone.

Seeing it was different.

He thought of Phoebe in the courthouse hallway, laughing about the lilies.

He thought of her telling him to file the paper, with tears in her eyes, and him believing her.

He went on into the house and said nothing.

Stavros sat in the study in a silk dressing gown with a pot of tea and a plate of honey cakes.

The portrait of Damian's father hung behind him, and the safe was behind the portrait.

"Sit, my boy."

"I'll stand."

"As you like. You embarrassed me last night."

"You embarrassed yourself. You told Pappas his son was a guest."

"A small thing, a mistake of the moment." The old man stirred his tea. "I have been watching you, Damian. You have grown a spine in the wrong place."

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