Arthur leaned back and lifted his drink. “Good. The captain can surely returnFlirting with Disasterback to Monaco without us aboard.”
“You sound worried about Max.”
“He’s not stable. He might do inadvisable things.”
“Like—” Gen pressed him, worried.
“Like drink himself into a bad situation or take up with unsuitable persons.”
“Oh, so not—”
“I don’t think so, or not this time, anyway. Caz and I need to get him settled. I need you to be a good girl and not put yourself in any danger.”
“All right.” She rolled her eyes and patted her pregnant stomach. “I’ll be a good girl until little Sam-Houston is born.”
Arthur raised one eyebrow, and a bit of twinkle returned to his silvery eyes. “Edward.”
Chapter Eighteen
Phone Calls
Maxence
Maxence stood on the other side of the yacht from where Casimir and Gen were talking on their phones.
The noontime sun sparkled on the wavelets. Salt spray flying off the sapphire water stung his face, but he was used to the elements. Such minor things didn’t bother him.
He took a deep breath before dialing and held the phone to his ear while it rang.
A man’s voice answered. “Quentin Sault. Is that you, Maxence?”
Quentin was his brother Pierre’s security chief. “I heard you were looking for me.”
His voice was gruff. “Those were our orders.”
“And your orders after that?” Maxence asked.
“Custody.”
“And then?”
Sault’s pause spoke volumes. “We weren’t informed.”
Maxence breathed for a moment and watched the horizon, a slash of bright blue above and dark blue below. His heart fell, not in fear but with resignation. His incredibly rich and powerful older brother was a psychopath, a family trait Max hadn’t inherited.
Maxence had been making noises all their lives that he wanted to give up his rights to the family fortune and walk away.
It may have been the only reason he’d survived this long.
If Max had been ambitious, Pierre would have known how to deal with him. Instead, Maxence was more dangerous to Pierre than if he’d been a challenger.
Maxence asked, “Has he become paranoid? Like, clinically? Dangerously?”
A sigh. “He’s desperate. His wife is missing. There are consequences for him, especially now. Other than that, I could not comment.”
Pierre’s wife, Flicka, wasn’t exactlymissing.Pierre, Quentin Sault, Maxence, and a few others knew exactly where she was.
Indeed, Maxence had seen Flicka just the day before in Geneva.
