Chapter 96: Inseparable

Daphne

Louis had carefully noted down everything I knew about the father of my baby, even the details that were vague and nonspecific. I described his appearance. I told him about the bullet scar in his back, and the fact that I suspected he might be ex-military. I mentioned that he drove a black Jeep, and I told him the first three letters of the plate number, but I couldn’t remember the whole thing.

He asked about things I hadn’t even thought to question. How did he speak? Did he have an accent? Was he right-handed or left-handed? What kind of food did he prefer? What kind of clothes did he wear? What kind of shoes? Did he wear a watch? What kind of phone did he carry? Did he have friends? Did he call or text anyone?

The more questions that I couldn’t answer, the more concerned Louis became. When he finally set down the pen and tore off the piece of paper he had scribbled notes on, his face was very solemn. “I hate to tell you this, Daphne, but this guy sounds like a professional.”

I gaped at him, “A professional what?”

“Ghost. This guy knows how to get in and out without leaving a trace of himself. If he was military, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was special ops.” He folded the paper carefully and tucked it in his breast pocket. “But I will give this to my security team, and see what they can dig up. You’d be amazed what they can do.”

He stood, stretched, and then leaned down to place a kiss on my forehead. “Get some rest. You are safe here.” He straightened, and his eyes seemed to glitter with golden sparks. “You are safe with me.”

Since then, I had seen very little of the king.

I suppose it was to be expected, he was an important man with so many responsibilities. I couldn’t expect him to babysit me or entertain me around the clock.

Louis’s assistant, Leanne had provided me with an ID card on a lanyard and a set of keys to my rooms. The ID card allowed me access to certain parts of the palace, the grounds, and the stables. I was also provided with the use of a car when I required it.

I took the time to get acquainted with my new home over the weekend. The palace was everything you would expect a palace to be; full of luxury, grandeur, a mix of priceless antiques and the latest and greatest modern technology. The staff was courteous and professional, everything was spotless and clean, and the housekeeper left a bouquet of fresh flowers in my room every morning.

After I had explored the immediate surroundings of my new home, I took the car out and checked out the nearest human town. It was small, but it had most of the basics. If I wanted anything special, I could order it online, or make a drive into Quebec or Montreal. I found a nice little cafe in town where I could come to get away, sit in a corner, and work on my laptop.

Everything was nice. This was to be my new home, probably for the next several years, if not for the rest of my life, so I needed to feel comfortable with my surroundings. However, I was already feeling a pang of loneliness, for my brothers, for Bella, for my chubby-cheeked nephew. But most of all, I attributed that empty ache in my chest to the absence of Nathan Straight.

After enjoying a cup of hot chocolate at the café, I drove back to the château. I was stopped at the gate by security, but after they checked my badge and their records, they allowed me to drive into the outer courtyard. I followed the road around the exterior of the castle to the garage area on the backside, where about twenty vehicles were kept, all bearing the official royal crest with the fancy double looped L.

I returned the car to the fleet manager, and passed through a second security check, until I was once again inside the stone walls. It was too early for dinner, so I decided to try and find the library by myself. I’d seen it on my quick tour, but the matronly lady who had been guiding me had not allowed me any time to explore the massive, two-story library, or its treasure trove of books.

After several wrong turns, I finally found the place. It had tall, narrow windows that looked out on the gardens, a twisting staircase that led to the second story of bookshelves, cozy-looking leather chairs next to tables that sported stained-glass lamps, and on the back table, a bank of high-powered computers, printers, and other office equipment was set up and ready for use.

I thought I would have the cavernous room to myself, but I found another occupant on the sofa in front of the cold fireplace. Pilar Larkin sat, still dressed to the nines. She had slipped off her heels and her feet were tucked under her on the sofa. A glass of wine dangled between the fingers of one hand.

She looked up at me lazily and swirled the wine. “Oh, hello Darlene.”

I smiled back. I wanted to tell her point-blank, I’m a f.ucking psychologist, you don’t think I know the ploy of purposely “forgetting” a name to make a person feel small and unimportant? “Hello Patty.”

Her grin widened, and for a moment, it might actually have been a sincere smile, like she appreciated the fact that I didn’t play right into her hands. “Dreadfully boring here, isn’t it?”

“Oh I don’t think so,” I went to the nearest bookshelf, pulled down a random, ancient-looking tome and opened it in my hands. The pages were yellow with age, and the print was uneven, but the language wasn’t one I recognized. “There is so much to explore here.” I snapped the book shut and replaced it on the shelf.

“I looked you up,” She said, turning off the screen and setting her tablet aside. “You are an alpha’s daughter, too.”

See, she did remember my name. “I am.”

“Yet Louis introduced you as a member of the staff?”

“I am that, too,” I tried not to let my hackles rise over the fact that she had spoken Louis’s name without using his proper title. That was my privilege, not hers. “I will be taking over from the current pack psychologist.”

“You are a shrink?” Her eyebrows shot up.

“If you want to call it that.”

She unfurled her long legs and stood, slipping her dainty feet back into her heels, probably so that she could stare down at me. I ignored her and turned back to the bookshelf. I reached for another book.

“Is he really mad?”

I froze, my arm extended, and then pulled it back. “Pardon?”

She rolled her eyes at me impatiently. “The king. Is he as looney as they say?”

I pushed my hair out of my face and considered my words very carefully. “King Louis is not my patient. Even if he was, doctor-patient privilege would not permit me to discuss any patient’s condition with his permission.”

“But he is crazy, isn’t he?” She asked, her tone strangely urgent.

I shrugged, “Who gets to decide what is insane, and what is not?”

I saw her eyes move over my head, and her face froze for a moment in a look of guilt and fear. I turned around slowly, and found Louis leaning in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed. I had no idea how long he’d been standing there, listening to us. “Good evening ladies,” he said smoothly. “I’ve come to escort you to dinner.”

He smiled, but for the first time, I noticed something cold and hard behind his eyes.