Page 3 of Sins of a King
“My sister can tell you anything you want to know about Mary’s ladies-in-waiting,” Andrew interjected.
Flynn shot Andrew a look, and my brother nearly quivered. I frowned.
Was my brotherafraidof Flynn?
Giving the Scotsman back his glass, I pushed away from the table. In a show of old-world gentlemanly manners, Flynn stood when I did.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment. I need to find the ladies’ room.”
I didn’t have to use the restroom, but I wanted a moment to get myself together. Thankfully, the bathroom was empty, and I was grateful for the privacy. Setting my clutch down on the counter, I forced myself to look in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart was thundering in my chest like a herd of wild horses. I washed my clammy hands and dried them before leaving the safety of the bathroom.
As I made my way back to the table, I heard Flynn and Andrew speaking in low voices. Something about their conversation made me pause, so I hid behind a massive potted plant, shamelessly eavesdropping.
“She can help you track your ancestry,” Andrew volunteered.
“I already know my ancestry.”
“You can find a use for her.”
There was a pause. “You didn’t mention she was beautiful,” Flynn said.
“Does that mean you’re willing to—”
“She has no idea why she’s here, does she?”
“No, she doesn’t. Does that change anything?”
“No. It doesn’t,” Flynn replied.
“So, do we have a deal?” Andrew asked impatiently.
“Aye. We have a deal.”
Chapter 2
I frowned, not understanding the nature of their conversation. Knowing I couldn’t keep hiding behind the potted plant, I made my presence known by returning to the table. I looked at my brother whose face was flushed, a picture of guilt.
“What’s going on?” I ventured to ask.
“You should sit,” Andrew said.
His tone and command made me balk. “What am I really doing here, Andrew? This isn’t about helping you woo a new client, is it?”
Andrew’s gaze dropped to the white tablecloth, but he wouldn’t answer me, so I looked at Flynn Campbell. For some reason, I trusted him to give me an honest answer. His stare was unwavering.
I slowly sank down into my chair. And waited.
Flynn looked at Andrew in disgust. “I’m not doing this with you here. She deserves more. More from you.”
Andrew tossed back the last of his drink and stood from the table. “I’m sorry, Barrett,” he muttered before he left me alone with Flynn.
“What’s going on?” I repeated.
Flynn’s face was hard, unyielding. “We’re getting out of here.” Standing up, he reached into his trouser pocket for his wallet. He threw down some bills, more than enough to cover the drinks, grabbed my hand, and tugged me out of my seat. He barreled through the restaurant, servers jumping out of his way since it didn’t appear as if he was going to stop. I could barely keep up with his long strides, but something told me not to ask him to slow down.
When we got out of the restaurant, Flynn ushered me toward an idling black Rolls-Royce. I swallowed nervously, suddenly aware that Flynn possessed an obscene amount of wealth.
“Get in,” he commanded, opening the passenger door for me.
