5
When he awoke the next morning, Valentin was disoriented.
It took him several seconds to remember leaning on Crystal and coming up to her apartment in a feverish haze.
Bright sunlight was streaming through the window into his face. It was making his head pound. Or maybe that was the residual effect of the illness. He could feel the weakness of his limbs, but the fever itself seemed to be gone. Thank God.
He sat up on the couch, letting his feet hit the floor. But weakness threatened to overcome him, and he put his head in both hands, elbows on his knees.
With his head down like this, he could smell just how badly he stank of sick and stale sweat. How embarrassing.
But Crystal didn't seem to be here. He glanced around the neat, eclectic space. Two overstuffed chairs brimming with colorful pillows. A half-sized bookshelf stuffed with novels, a small telly sitting on top of it. Separating the living area from the kitchen was a bar with stools. The walls were painted a soft blue. Pictures of her with two men, younger than she, hung on the walls. In one they were rock climbing, in another they were at the beach. In another they had their arms around each other, and they were laughing.
He suddenly realized he knew nothing about Crystal’s personal life. Mother would've vetted her before she'd been hired, but Valentin had been so self-absorbed that he didn't even know if she had a family. Or a boyfriend.
Where was she?
She'd been nearby when he'd woken several times during the night, always replacing his cool washrags.
He winced when he remembered ordering her to turn on the television. Demanding it like a toddler. What a prize she must think he was.
By taking him home like she had, she'd gone above and beyond her duty as an employee. She'd almost acted like a... friend.
And he'd treated her shabbily.
If he were lucky, she’d be sleeping right now. If he were doubly lucky, she'd forget about his actions in the night.
And then he remembered her call to Conrad. At least, hethoughtshe'd called his assistant. He could've been dreaming it. She'd asked a question that niggled the back of his brain—
Max.
Remembering his brother was like receiving a punch to the solar plexus. For a few seconds, he couldn't breathe. He felt as if he'd blacked out and was seeing stars both at the same time.
Max with a baby.
There had been photographers outside the school when he'd visited. If they'd gotten a picture of Max and Valentin, the press would be in a frenzy.
And Conrad had probably told Crystal not to let him see it.
Some sick part of his brain insisted he raise his head and look around. And there was the remote, only a scant few inches away on a low, scratched coffee table.
Where was his phone? His keys? He had options. Probably Mother and Father were trying to reach him. He could call them.
Or he could get in his car and drive as fast and as far as he could. Abdicate, even, though that would leave Max to run the country when Mother no longer could.
He'd ignored his fanciful thoughts and gotten as far as picking up the remote when Crystal walked into the room from a hallway he'd barely noticed.
She was wearing jeans and a tank top, and her feet were bare. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she didn't have a stitch of makeup on.
Those freckles.
She glanced at the remote, her gaze zeroing in on his face. "You sure you want to do that before you have coffee?"
She knew. Of course she knew.
"I—how bad is it?"
She shrugged. "I saw a couple of things pop up on my social media feeds, but I haven't turned on the news yet."
