“Private,” said Dev in a low voice that would brook no smart talk.
Jagger sucked his teeth before giving a shrug of a shoulder. “If you’ll follow me.”
He led them through the club—paraded, more like—and up the stairs to the second-floor office. Dev made sure the door was closed firmly behind them.
He knew that particular set to Beatrix’s jaw. The woman was in deep dudgeon.
The few intervening minutes had neither cooled nor soothed her.
Jagger cocked a hip onto the large oak desk and crossed his arms over his chest—and waited with a smirk perched on his mouth.
“Lydon’s debt,” she bit out.
Dev didn’t understand what she meant by it, but no curiosity shone in Jagger’s eyes. “What about it?”
“You’ve bought every last note.”
Jagger sniffed. “Oh, I’m sure there are more out there. He does get about.”
Beatrix remained in no mood to engage in a bit of levity. She waited—and glowered.
“Must admit, though, to a bit of surprise that he came running to you about it.”
Utter disbelief shone in her eyes. “You think Lydon opens his mail?”
Jagger spread his hands wide. “You got me there. I reckon he wouldn’t.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Why have you bought Lydon’s debt?”
“An investment, if you will.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“No?”
“No one possessed of half a brain would invest in Lydon”
Jagger cocked his head. “Should I take that as a compliment?”
“Take it as you like, but I know one thing.” The words hung in the air for an extra beat of time. “You’re out to ruin him.”
“I’m just holding on to the debts.” An intensity entered Jagger’s eyes that belied his easy manner. “For now.”
Beatrix’s sharp inhalation rent the air. She’d heard the truth as clearly as Dev had—and something more within the single space between those two simple words.
For now.
Not indefinitely.
When she opened her mouth to speak, her voice was low and rasped with emotion barely suppressed. “You can take possession of the Mayfair townhouse any time you like.”
The smile that curved Jagger’s mouth sent a ripple of foreboding through Dev.
“Now, now,” said the rogue, his voice rich with condescension. “What sort of brother would turf his own sister out on her arse?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The loudest silence Dev ever experienced expanded through the air until he thought it would surely burst from the tension.
