Page 109 of All I Want for Christmas

‘No, it’s still there.’

‘It is?’ She was surprised. ‘Well, great. I’ll knock on the door and see if the owners would mind me looking in the garden – but even if I can’t go in, just to see it and get the feel of the place would be useful.’

Otto glanced over her shoulder. ‘Would that be possible, Max? For Darcy to visit Solvtraeer?’

‘Oh – does the Foundation still own the estate?’ It had never occurred to her.

‘Not the Foundation, no,’ Otto said. ‘But Max does.’

Darcy looked at him.Heowned the house Lilja Madsen had lived in?

‘His grandmother was a Madsen. Didn’t you know?’ Otto asked.

‘Thank you, Otto, for the family history,’ Max said sharply.

Darcy took a breath as she absorbed the news. It made sense – the quiet wealth, the air of entitlement, his trustee status and big job; his over-interest in anything to do with this family.Hisfamily, it turned out.

A beat pulsed as she awaited his verdict. She would hardly be the most welcome houseguest.

Helle stepped forward. ‘What’s really to be gained from thi—’

‘If she wants to see it, she can,’ Max said flatly, bringing his attention onto Darcy at last. ‘The house and gardens are largely as they were, although I don’t know what you expect to find there.’

She shrugged. Neither did she.

‘I’m driving up tomorrow. I was actually heading up there tonight when the call came in for this.’

‘...Tomorrow would be great.’ She swallowed. ‘I’ll get the train up.’

There was a pause. ‘Fine.’

His eyes were cold. He was looking at her like she was nothing to him, even though he had stood in her hallway and saved her with his gift; he had held her to him and given her his heartbeat to follow when her own had lost control. He had shown her, despite his best efforts to prove otherwise, that he was flesh and blood too; just a man.

But it was hard to believe, standing here now in their enemy camps. He was so far away from her that he might as well be on the moon.

‘Fine.’

Chapter Twenty-Three

‘Freja? Are you here?’ Darcy called, pulling her key from the door. She had seen the lights shining through from the kitchen. ‘I thought you were going out with Tristan?’

There was no reply. No music playing, no voices on the TV, not the bang and clatter of pots, nor the sound of running water from the shower.

‘...Frey?’

Darcy stopped in her tracks as she rounded the corner to find Freja standing in the kitchen, the two red Valentino dresses hanging from cupboard knobs at either side of her. Beauty and the beast.

Her flatmate twirled her hands out questioningly. ‘Anything you want to tell me?’

‘I...’ Darcy felt the blood pool at her feet. Oh God. ‘...I can explain.’

‘I thought you might say that.’ Freja folded her arms across her chest, waiting. Darcy had never seen her look so forbidding. ‘Go on, then.’

Darcy took pigeon steps into the room, oblivious now to the fact that she was still wearing a wetsuit and lifejacket. ‘It’s not what you think...’

‘No? You mean you didn’t steal my dress and ruin it?’

‘...Yes, but...notblithely. I didn’t just take it because Iwanted to! There was a crisis while you were in Amsterdam. I tried to contact you, to explain, to ask if...’ She held her hands out appeasingly. Pleadingly. ‘I called you six times, Freja.’

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