'The detective. Fuck.' I let out an annoyed huff.
That's right, I have to be there at 9am.
I glance over at Daisy, who's still asleep next to me.
I roll out of bed, grab a quick shower, and get dressed in a bespoke suit that I find in the closet.
The sight of it makes me raise a brow. Why do I feel like Pierre Sauvage is ‘bon père’ to all of us now?
French fuck. But I put the suit on.
Even I have to admit that it looks good.
I text my lawyer. I emailed him about this meeting yesterday from the plane, and he said he'd be there as my counsel.
I get a message from the hotel concierge a second later to say that my driver is here.
Frowning, I leave the penthouse suite. Mav and Blake are passed out on the couches. I don't wake them. They know where I'll be.
I go down in the elevator and stop by the concierge on the way out.
'I just got a message to say there's a car for me,' I say.
'Yes, sir,' the young woman says. 'I believe he's waiting for you out front. It's Mr. Sauvage's personal driver.'
'Thank you,' I mutter, frowning further.
I don’t like that Pierre Sauvage is ordering me cars. He doesn't like me or the others, but here we are living in his hotel, eating his food, and getting favors off of him. It might be because of his soft spot for Daisy, but he's a dangerous man to accidentally owe anything to.
But I get in the black fucking town car.
It takes me to Richmond police station. Inside, my lawyer is waiting for me. He stands up when I get there and shakes my hand.
'When we get in there, answer their questions, but if I tell you to stop talking, do it,’ he reminds me and I nod.
The detective comes out a moment later. 'Mr. Novelle, right on time.'
'Of course, Detective, you asked me to come. This is my lawyer, Robert Burrows of Marchmont & Co.'
They nod at each other.
'What can you tell me about my father's death?' I ask. 'All I know is what you told me over the phone. You said it was an accident of some kind?'
She looks surprised as she ushers me into a room where another suit with a badge sits.
'This is Detective Spencer of the NYPD. He'll also be asking you some questions today.'
We sit down and they start recording, giving our names and the date.
The detective I already know sits back in her chair, surveying me.
'I would have thought you'd have been using all that Novelle influence to get more information. You don't seem all that cut up about your dad’s death, if I'm honest, Mr. Novelle. Why is that?'
I glance at my lawyer, who nods. 'My relationship with my father was complicated. He was a businessman. He didn't have much time for his sons. I assume my brother, Andrew, has been notified.'
She nods. 'As far as I know, he was told before you were.’
Both detectives watch me closely.
