Page 13 of After Felix (Close Proximity #3)

I laugh. “I should probably just buy the place. It’ll make the frequent visits a lot more comfortable.”

The three men laugh. They’re so bright, they’re like a mirage, and I feel a twinge of insecurity.

I know Henry is a family lawyer because Zeb told me.

And Ivo and Max are renowned war journalists.

And meanwhile, here I am, a lowly assistant who lives on a boat.

Then I remember my spine and stiffen it, giving them a smile that’s more assured than I feel.

I feel Max’s eyes on me. I glance at him and the pride in his face warms me. I sidle a little closer, and he throws his arm over my shoulders as we follow Henry and Ivo into the big house.

Once we’re inside, I look around while the three men talk idly about the wedding and people I don’t know. I catch the name Gabe and then Asa Jacobs.

“Asa Jacobs is coming to this wedding?” I gasp.

Henry turns to me, laughter in his eyes. “Want me to sneak you into his bedroom so you can sniff the sheets?”

“ Henry .” Ivo sighs.

I laugh. “Just give me the sheets when he’s finished with them. I’ll make them into a set of curtains.”

Max shakes his head. “You do know that Ivo and I were respected war journalists, don’t you? It’s bemusing why you’re so excited about meeting an actor.”

“Not just any actor,” I say solemnly. “Asa Jacobs. With all that hair and that arse. And let's face it, you were just roaming the world indulging in your natural nosiness.”

Ivo breaks into loud laughter. “You know him well.”

“Definitely in the biblical sense,” I muse.

Max drops a kiss on my head. “I’m going to get the bags.”

Henry nods. “We’ll go and find what room you’ve been put in. ”

I’m left standing in a pool of sunshine.

I think this room would have been known as the great hall back in the day.

It’s huge and whitewashed, with a high ceiling and windows through which the light pours in.

There’s a battered suit of armour standing to one side, and the walls are lined with rather grim portraits of grumpy-looking men and women.

I wander over to examine one particular monster.

“Hello.”

I jump and spin round to find a small dark-haired man standing there. He has a sharp face and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” I say uncertainly. “I’m not nicking the silver, if you’re worried.”

He grins. “It’s a load of old tut anyway. If you want to nick one of those portraits though, do help yourself.” His accent is Irish.

I laugh nervously. “Oh no, that’s funny.”

“It’s not a joke. Take that one.” He nods at one of the grimmest pictures. It’s of a man dressed in Tudor clothes, and his expression suggests he’s contemplating gruesome murder.

“His eyes follow you around the room. No one believes me,” the stranger says.

“I believe you,” I say fervently.

He grins at me again. “I’m Oz. Silas’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, the earl.”

He nods carelessly. “That’s the one. He’s easy to recognise. He’ll be the one looking like he’s been dragged through a hedge backwards and borrowed his clothes from a tramp.”

I smile. “I’m Felix. I’m with Max Travers.”

“Is he here? I’ll have to lock the alcohol away.”

“He’ll still find it,” I say with a laugh. “He’s like an alcoholic bloodhound.”

“Journalists,” he says in a tone of doom. His grin returns. “I’ll take you up to your room.”

“Oh, thank you. Max has gone out to the car to get the bags.”

He shrugs. “He’ll find you. He’s been here before.”

“Will he find me next week? Because this house is bloody huge.”

“We’ll probably have wedding guests turning up a month from now looking haggard and traumatised.

” He turns and gestures for me to follow him, and I fall into step.

I quickly lose track of where we are. Staircases run here and there, and we twist and turn until finally, we rock up outside a room. Oz opens the door and gestures me in.

It’s a big room with a mullioned window and a four-poster bed made up with white bed linen and a faded rose-patterned eiderdown. A big vase of scarlet-coloured roses emits a gorgeous scent.

“It’s lovely,” I say, going to the window. The view is of a back lawn that stretches down towards trees and the sea beyond. “Although I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to find my way back to it.”

Oz laughs. “I’ve lived here for a year, and I’m still finding bits I’ve never seen before.

Last week I found a lovely little music room with a grand piano.

It looked like something from a Jane Austen film.

Left it, and I’ve never been able to find it again.

Silas hadn’t a clue about it.” He smiles at me.

“There’s a rehearsal tonight, and then after that, there’s a meal.

It’s informal, so don’t bother dressing up. ”

And then he’s gone, and I’m at a complete loss as to what to do. I wander around the room, opening and shutting drawers and finding a little en suite bathroom in the process. Eventually, I yawn and settle down on the bed.

I didn’t intend to go to sleep, but when I open my eyes and check my watch, I find I’ve been asleep for a couple of hours.

A quick glimpse of the room shows me that I’m still Maxless and bagless.

I nip into the bathroom and freshen up, slinging cold water on my face.

As I’m drying off, I catch my reflection in the mirror.

I look my usual self—too thin, too much hair, and eyes big in my face.

I shake my head and straighten my slightly crumpled T-shirt before wandering out of the room.

Hopefully, I’ll find some helpful person ready and willing to tell me what the fuck is going on.

Unfortunately, there’s no one, so I cautiously set off down the corridor.

And then down another. And another. This place is like a very genteel rabbit warren.

Corridors run off here and there, leading into dead ends and more rooms. Finally, I happen onto a staircase and catch the sound of voices from down below.

Following them, I descend into a wide hallway.

There’s a doorway from which the voices are coming, and when I go through, I find myself in a vast room filled with people talking loudly.

Glasses are clinking, and the atmosphere is loud and happy.

I feel suddenly self-conscious in my rumpled clothes. The odd one out.

Nobody has spotted me yet, and I take the opportunity to look around, searching for Max. I see him immediately. His height makes him stand out. He’s with Ivo, and a group of people are clustered around them laughing at something that Max has just said.

I stare at them, my brow furrowed, feeling sudden and disconcerting anger stir and rise in me. He’s here laughing and drinking with Ivo, completely forgetting that I was upstairs on my own waiting for him to turn up with the bag as promised.

Everyone looks put together and wealthy. Neat and happy. I look like I slept in my clothes for a year.

I step back involuntarily and then take another step before I hear my name being called. When I turn around, I exhale in relief. Zeb.

“Hey,” I say, smiling and falling into the hug he gives me. “When did you get here?”

“About an hour ago. We’d have been earlier if it wasn’t for Patrick.”

“Did he break his broom?”

He shakes his head. “Be nice. He’s aggravated enough as it is.”

“Why?”

He sighs. “Max swore he could see a forehead wrinkle.”

I laugh but can’t stop my glance over to where Max is standing. I bite my lip when I see him laughing with Ivo. “Well, that’s Max. He’s a chuckle a second.”

He shoots me a look but ignores the undercurrent adeptly. I suppose he’s used to doing it with Patrick. “Where were you, anyway? I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind about coming.”

“Oh, upstairs, waiting for Max and the luggage for an hour or two,” I say lightly.

I force a laugh because this is Zeb’s stepbrother I’m discussing.

“God knows where our luggage has gone. I hope a random stranger isn’t trying to get into my briefs.

” I nudge Zeb, who is now frowning. “Wouldn’t be the first time, I suppose.

” Zeb doesn’t laugh. His frown intensifies, and, as if he senses us watching, Max looks up. He grins at Zeb and then sees me .

For a wild second, I expect him to act as if I’m a stranger to him. Probably because that’s how I feel at this precise moment. However, his face lights up, and after saying something to Ivo, he leaves the group and forges his way through the crowd.

“Hey you,” he says affectionately when he reaches me. “I was beginning to think I’d lost you.”

“Hardly lost,” Zeb says coolly. “Felix was waiting upstairs for you.” There’s a pause. “For a couple of hours, but who’s counting?”

Max’s eyes widen. I shake my head at Zeb from behind Max’s back. No , I mouth, pulling a finger across my throat. When Max turns back to me, I abort the gesture and push my hair back.

“You were waiting for me?” His tone is surprised.

I bite my lip as anger stirs again, but this isn’t the place for a row. “Where else?” I say lightly. “Only an hour or so, but it was very peaceful.”

“I expect it was, seeing as Max was socialising,” Zeb says coldly.

Max directs a fulminating glance at him before turning back to me.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, gathering me into a hug.

“You were asleep when I looked in and were so peaceful that I let you be. I only intended to come down and say hello, but then Ivo started to tell the Danish embassy story, and I had to be there for that.”

“It’s okay.” I’m suddenly embarrassed about causing a fuss.

He’s at his best friend’s wedding and wanted to talk to him, for God’s sake.

He left me alone in a lovely room in a posh house, not a brothel in a warzone.

I’m behaving like a little bitch. I force a smile.

“Hope you’ve still got the bag though. I don’t fancy attending a wedding in my jeans and a My Little Pony T-shirt. ”