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“A stalker? Did anyone mention this to the police?”
“I don’t know,” he grunts.
Unbelievable. “Someone may have been stalking her, and no one said anything?”
“It wasn’t my place to tell you or your mother. That was Dee’s or your father’s.”
He’s got a point, and I will be saying something to daddy dearest, that’s for sure. My fingers trace over the note. “What’s the big day allude to?”
“The wedding, I thought,” he says. “On the backside of the picture was a section talking about celebrity couples.”
Celebrity couples?I’m not going to unpack how much ego has to go into thinking he’s that important. “But that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Listen, she didn’t know, and neither did I. I thought it was that barista from the café at first. He had such a hard-on for her since she spoke to him one fucking time. It was ridiculous.”
Oliver and I share a surprised glance. That has to be the same barista who’d tried to talk to me. He definitely looked at me like I was Dee, then Leo almost pissed on him.
Jesus.
If he sent this to her, he deserves that and so much more. She must have been so scared.
Oliver glares at Keegan. “Do you think her death and this stalker shit are related?”
More sweat drips down his face. He’s turning ashen under the heat of the flames licking behind him. “I don’t know,” he states, but his voice sounds more broken than before. “I don’t. I wish I fucking knew. I really do." His voice cracks. “If I could take back all the shitty things I did to her—said to her—I would. I loved her, Eden. I swear to you. I’d finally gotten my head out of my ass, and I only had one good week with her. One.”
Emotion pours through me, unchecked tears filling my eyes. “You didn’t deserve her.”
“I know,” he murmurs, and his voice is so lost. It’s scary how fast men like Keegan can fall.
“What happened to Delilah?” Oliver asks. He’s the only one of us who isn’t crying.
“She drowned.”
“How?” he seethes.
Keegan peers up at me. “Please, leave. Just go. I’ll give you money. I’ll help. This is the last place you should be.”
“Why, Keegan?” I ask, chest fluttering. This is as close to the truth as I’ve been yet.
“Please…” he begs, before his head lolls forward and his eyes roll into the back of his head.
Horror grips me. “What the hell?”
Oliver strides up to him, leaning over. “I think he’s just passed out. Maybe the fireplace was overkill.”
I run my hands through my hair. “What are we going to do with a passed-out Keegan, Ollie? Shit.”
“Calm down,” he says in the only way a prince that’s fifth from ruling an entire country could say. “This is no big deal.” He walks to the entryway into the drawing room and presses a button on the wall. “Please come remove my guest and return him to his residence hall.”
“You’re going to have your servants take him back?”
“Do you have a better idea?” Ollie asks. He flicks his gaze to Keegan’s limp body. “He’s not going to tell you what’s going on, and we certainly can’t have anyone know he was here, right? Leo and Alaric will ask questions if we come waltzing onto campus with a limp Keegan in tow.”
“Fine… Fine,” I exclaim. “Just—”
The servant who let me in the door walks in and unties the knots on Keegan’s wrists and ankles. When another servant joins him, they both hoist Keegan into the air and start walking toward the foyer as if they do this all the time. “I’ll text you the address, James,” Oliver calls out as they leave.
“Sir,” he says in response.