Dree would be in danger if Maxencecaredfor her.
And that would be unbearable.
His eyes slowly focused on his phone and the messages he should begin to triage.
His cousin Marie-Therese’s most recent text was,Maxence, where are you? Maxence, it’s terrible. It’s all gone wrong. Pierre is dead. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. I’m trying to find Flicka because she knows something about it, but I can’t find her, either. Oh, my Maxence, where are you?
Toward the rear of the plane, Dree flopped onto a long leather couch bolted to the wall. An air hostess approached her, craning her head to the side with concern.
Maxence signaled another stewardess, who turned out to be Malini, again. She smiled a friendly, open expression of inquiry and blinked with affection. She wouldn’t ask for a blessing after he’d removed his ecclesiastical clothes because she’d seen the demarcation in his life before.
“I need a laptop,” Maxence said. He couldn’t thumb hundreds of responses on a phone screen.
“Right away, Your Highness.” She flitted to the rear of the plane.
The next series of texts was from his cousin Alexandre.
- I cannot believe the shenanigans going on in Monaco. I’ve got 2:1 odds Pierre renounces within a week. At least I’ll make some money before I have to fight for my life.
- Pierre is dead. Why the hell is Pierre dead? You’re going to need those legal links I forwarded to you.
- They’re threatening to elect you in absentia. I’ve put together a voting bloc of the cousins, but I cannot hold this together much longer, man.
- Shit is hitting the fan, Max. Where the hell are you? All the cousins are dispersing so they can’t form a quorum. I’m taking off to the US for a few days. It’s too hot here.
- Maxence? Are you okay?
- Max?
- Please answer me.
Okay, his first text needed to go to Alexandre.
Malini handed him a laptop.
Maxence booted it up and paired it with his phone.
Alexandre, I’m fine,he typed and sent so that Alex received that much immediately.
He continued,I was in the field for my charity and couldn’t get a cell phone signal for a month. I hadn’t heard anything that happened after Flicka came back to the palace. Sault found me in a Nepalese hikers’ hostel and told me Pierre was dead. I’m on the Bombardier, headed for Monaco. Are you still in the US?
Maxence typed a text to Marie-Therese, assuring her he was all right but more guarded about specific information.
Just as he hit send for Marie-Therese, his phone buzzed. The caller ID readXan Valentine.
Maxence answered it. “Hello, Alexandre.”
“Goddammit, Max, what the hell is wrong with you?” Alexandre’s voice was a throaty baritone growl, hoarse from rough use.
“Glad to hear from you, too, Alex.”
“I didn’t know if your brother had you killed before he ate a damned gun or if Jules had sent mercs to murder you after or before Pierre bit it. You can’t pull these stunts, Max. You can’t run away and be incommunicado for goddamn months!”
Maxence said, “Fill me in on what happened to Pierre.”
A deep, shaky sigh whooshed through the phone. “Jesus Hussain Christ, Max.”
“I’m sorry I worried you.”
