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“If you were running away from someone, would you leave it on?” she said tartly.
Desmond recoiled. “Listen, I’m just trying to help—”
“I know. I know.” While her voice wasn’t nearly as contrite as it could have been, she did look at him then, lifting soft fingertips to massage her temples. “I apologize—it’s been a very long day.”
Slightly mollified, Desmond continued. “Does she have any friends or relatives in London she might have met up with? A boyfriend?”
“I hope not,” Val muttered, but her eyes widened all the same. “Friends in London—I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.”
“What?”
“I was so busy sniping at you I didn’t think.”
Well, at least she realized she’d been sniping. He took a moment to enjoy the self-righteousness as she dug through the enormous handbag at her side, produced her mobile phone, and opened an app. He leaned in, peering over her shoulder, and was immediately taken in by a soft, powdery fragrance cut with something sharper, more vivid. She shifted and the movement caused her softness to be pressed against his side for a moment; he enjoyed it much more than he should have before she moved away.
“She’s got a dummy account,” Val said by way of explanation, sliding her horn-rims up her nose in order to see better. “I’ve been following her for years. No new posts, but—Oh, dear. Oh,dear.”
She sank back as if overcome, and Desmond took the opportunity to look at her phone, then laughed out loud. It was a real laugh that bubbled from deep inside his chest. The sound so startled him that he paused for a moment.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded crossly.
“#FleeFromNannyMcPhee?” He wascackling. “Great minds think alike.”
“I’m not her nanny,” Val said hotly. “I’m her—”
“Personal assistant,” Desmond said soothingly. “We know. Don’t take it personally. This is probably what she calls you to her friends.”
Val huffed, and the movement made her rather ample chest expand in a way that wasverydistracting. He brought his mind back to the matter at hand. “You can stop worrying. At least you know where she is.” He passed the phone back. “Her grammar, though, is appalling. Either that or she typed in a hurry.”
“She’s a perfect speller!” Val sputtered, but she was looking more horrified at each line.
Jailbrk! I ditched Nany McFee! Ready 4 my #1niteinLondon
Heddin 2 the #royloperahouse 2 c the
Pic comin up, wait 4 it!
#fleefromNannyMcPhee
“Love of herlife?” Val fairly shrieked.
Desmond was trying very hard not to laugh again, despite himself. “I don’t think she’s talking about a boy, if it makes you feel better.” A thirty-second search produced ticket sales for a popular K-pop band that performed their concerts opera-style. Val took one look and buried her face in her hands.
“Is she a fan?” he queried, politely.
“Ofcourseshe’s a fan of that moronic group. She begged for tickets, but her father said no.” Val drew in breath as if it were all too much. “Finding her in that crowd will be—”
“Virtually impossible.” Desmond tapped his wrist in memory of the watch left behind. “It’s a ninety-minute show, according to this. When does her father expect her back?”
“He doesn’t. He’s in Manchester till tomorrow morning.” Val sagged back onto the rich leather seat, placing her hands on her head as if it ached. The hem of her dress hitched up with the movement, and Desmond saw just a hint of lace and the soft dimpled skin of her thighs before the hem dropped again. Was she wearing lace-top stockings? The thought made something tighten in his middle.
If he were being honest, he had no shortage of access to women keen to spend time with him, each more beautiful than the last. None of them stayed, although some certainly did try. Some wanted his money, and those were the easiest to flush out. Some wanted his network of contacts and business partners. Some—and these repulsed him the most—were soft and starry-eyed, looking at him as a devoted prince who would ride in and save them.
Val Montgomery was none of these things; she looked more like she wanted to push him out of the car while it was in motion, but she certainly had caught his attention. And though he had no idea where this evening was taking them, he knew one thing: he wanted more of her. In what capacity, he still wasn’t sure, but he did know that solving her problem with Hind would help.
“This is what we’ll do,” he said, cool reassurance taking over his voice. “We’ll go to the Royal Opera House—it’s about twenty minutes from here. We’ll keep an eye on Hind’s feed. If we’re lucky we’ll spot her in the crowd coming out. If we don’t, at least we know where she’s going next on her jailbreak night.”
“Not funny.”