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Her hair was several shades darker, but her features were clearly the ones she was growing accustomed to now. She was dressed in a long, silken evening gown, her hair pulled to the crown of her head to cascade to her shoulders. It was a party of sorts, the older male she was standing with recognizable.
The leader of a Colombian drug cartel, Diego Fuentes. His hand rode low at her back, his smile clearly flirtatious as she laughed at something he said.
Her eyes narrowed as the ache in her head became stronger.
He wasn't just a cartel leader.
A double agent.
Diego Fuentes was a CIA a.s.set into the drug world as well as the terrorist influences invading it.
She had been on a mission.
There were other such pictures, but the one most telling was taken in the area where she had been shot. The picture had been taken in the winter. There was actually snow on the ground. Lilly was standing outside a warehouse talking on a phone. In the background she could make out a small sign that proclaimed the building holding the offices of Secure Escorts Etc.
This picture was taken before she was shot. Someone had been watching her, tracking her jobs, tracking her, until she had nearly been killed.
She slid the pictures inside the envelope, folded it, then shoved it into the waistband of her slacks at her back.
What was her uncle involved in?
She moved quickly to the computer, checked the progress of the files downloading to find they had finished, and quickly covered her tracks and shut down the computer.
As she was moving around the desk to make her way from the room, the slight beep of the security pad outside had her racing for cover.
It was daylight; hiding behind the curtains wouldn't be wise. Just before the door opened, Lilly slid behind the ornate couch along one wall, flattening herself against the wall as she lay on her side and watched as the door opened.
Her mother entered the office and moved to the file cabinet.
"I can't believe he forgot the files," she muttered as another set of legs followed behind her.
"Do you need any help, Lady Harrington?" one of the security personnel that Lilly remembered her father employing when she was sixteen asked softly.
"I have it, Samuel," she sighed. "He should know how important this is. Simply because he doesn't agree with them, he thinks we should just toss it away. There are days I simply don't understand that man."
"Yes, ma'am," Samuel answered noncommittally.
Lilly's brow arched at the irritation in her mother's voice as well as the fact that she was b.i.t.c.hing so vociferously to what she would consider a servant.
"Something simply must be done about him." Angelica's voice sharpened, "It's as bad as trying to deal with Victoria and her insistence on being called Lilly. Have you ever heard such nonsense?"
"No, ma'am," Samuel answered.
Angelica sighed heavily again. "Shall we leave then? I imagine this is something else we'll have to deal with ourselves."
"I'll take care of it, ma'am," Samuel promised.
Lilly's eyes narrowed as her mother and the bodyguard left the room, locking the door behind them.
Sliding from behind the couch, she dusted herself off, then stared at the door and shook her head in astonishment. Perhaps she should have paid more attention to her mother when she was younger. Spent more time with her or something. Never had Lilly known her to speak so familiarly with help. Not that she disapproved of it, she just knew her mother did disapprove of it. Highly.
The changes six years had wrought blew her mind.
Chapter 15.
two days later Lilly moved through the house, her hands jammed in the pockets of the violet silk slacks she wore, a heavy frown on her face as her hand gripped the silent cell phone in her pocket.
She hadn't heard from Travis since the morning he had left to take the metal and fluid samples he had found to Nik. She'd gone to the house, only to find it silent and empty. Even Henry the butler hadn't been in residence.
There had been no voice mail, no letter, no text, no message sent via anyone to let her know where he was or what was going on.
"Lilly, there you are." Her mother stepped from the sitting room, looking concerned. "I was wondering if you might like to go shopping?"
"Not today, Mother." Lilly gave her a soft smile, hoping to soften the rejection, although she could see the edge of hurt and anger in her mother's expression.
"You're ghosting about this place like a restless spirit," her mother accused, propping her hands on her hips and facing her with a frown. "Really, Lilly, perhaps you should see that psychiatrist the doctor recommded."
Lilly rolled her eyes at the suggestion.
"I don't need a psychiatrist, Mother," she a.s.sured her. "I'm fine, just tired."
Angelica crossed her arms over the tan and cream print blouse she wore and tapped her sandaled foot as she stared back at her daughter. The light, honey-brown above-the-knee-length skirt was a perfect complement to her mother's legs just as the cream-colored pumps were.
"You wouldn't be so tired if you slept at night rather than sneaking out at all hours," she retorted. "Really, Lilly, you can use the front door, you know. You are over twenty-one and hadn't had a curfew for several years before you disappeared. I doubt I'd try to enforce one now."
"How do you know I've been slipping out of my room at night, Mother?" she asked.
Lilly had a very well-developed intuition and she knew she hadn't felt prying eyes watching her. She had been aware of the investigator her uncle used to spy on her. He normally watched her balcony window. As though that were the only place she could sneak from the house.
"Does it matter how I know?" Angelica advanced further into the foyer. "I'm simply curious to know why you feel you must. What are you doing, Lilly, that you feel you have to hide it?"
"Perhaps I've just needed to get out," Lilly said. "I don't sleep well."
"And the doctor gave you something for that." Angelica frowned in concern. "You're out with that Caine person, aren't you? Do you think I hadn't noticed he hasn't been slipping into your bedroom lately?"
That Caine person, as though he didn't matter enough to actually have a first name.
"Does it really matter what I'm doing?" Lilly finally sighed. "As you said, Mother, I'm a big girl now, I don't have curfews and I know how to make my own friends."
"I used to think you knew how," Angelica said sadly. "I'm not so certain anymore, Lilly. I don't think I even know who you are anymore."
That makes two of us, Lilly thought.
"I don't want to argue with you, Mother."
"I do have a suggestion, dear," her mother said. "Dr. Ridgemore has suggested that perhaps you need to rest more. You know he has a fine facility in southern France. It's the perfect place to relax. You'd be well taken care of."
Lilly stared back at her in incredulity. "Ridgemore's facility is a joke," she burst out.
"Surely you're not serious, Mother!"
Angelica's face tightened. "You're not acting well, Lilly, and your uncle and I are extremely worried. Even Jared agrees that might be the best choice. And Ridgemore is not a joke. It's a very well-respected medical facility."
Her mother wanted to have her committed? Did she really think that Lilly would allow her to do such a thing?
But her mother was serious, and Lilly knew it. Angelica had decided several times when Lilly was younger that she might need therapy or counseling. Both of which meant that Lilly wasn't doing as Angelica wanted and might need to be convinced by a harrowing stay in Ridgemore's clinic.
Lilly had heard rumors of the clinic, and she had seen the few friends she'd had who had been sent there. They returned much too quiet, too restrained. They no longer trusted their friends, and made choices on what their parents considered acceptable rather than what they themselves wanted.
"You've obviously been through a very trying time, dear." Angelica touched her arm gently, her blue eyes darkening with remorse and sadness. "Whatever happened during the six years you were away was traumatic enough that you chose to block it out of your mind. I only want to help you to become better. Jared thinks-"
"Jared thinks, my a.s.s," she snapped. "What's his problem? Is he scared he's going to have to share the Harrington inheritance or something?"
"My G.o.d, Lilly, listen to your language!" Her mother gasped. "You sound like a street tramp rather than a lady."
Lilly pushed her fingers through her hair and fought for a way to tamp down her frustration. She had no doubt her mother was looking into having her committed. It was popular among the upper cla.s.ses to force children into asylums for drug or alcohol addictions, even for something so minor as consorting with people the parents considered too common.
Defiance was often diagnosed as a mental problem that needed advanced psychiatric help.
Such treatment did nothing more than create greater problems than before.
"Mother, there's nothing wrong with me, mentally," she said as she stared at her mother in disbelief. "I'm perfectly fine, I promise you."
She tried to pa.s.s her mother, to put as much distance between the two of them as possible right now.
"Lilly, we need to discuss this." Her mother's fingers tightened on her arm. "This is a serious issue, and one that must be addressed."
"And does Uncle Desmond agree with you?" Lilly s.n.a.t.c.hed her arm back. "Tell me, Mother, how long do I have before Ridgemore's friendly' a.s.sistants arrive to drag me to his asylum?"
"How common you sound," Angelica said. "You are not the child I raised, Lilly. You need help and you know it. As always, you have Desmond wrapped around your little finger, just as you had your father. Neither of them dared to disagree with you then, and Desmond wouldn't risk it now."
As far as Lilly was concerned, Desmond was anything but "wrapped." As normal, her mother did love to exaggerate.
Lilly shook her head in disbelief. She couldn't comprehend this. Her mother had been strict when she felt it was necessary, and Lilly knew Angelica had often agreed with her friends when they sent their own children away. But Lilly had never believed, never even imagined, her mother would seriously consider such a thing for her own children. She had threatened in the past, often. She and Lilly's father had argued over it. But a part of Lilly had never thought she would actually do it.
"You made a mistake warning me, Mother," Lilly a.s.sured her. "Trust me, there's not a chance in h.e.l.l I'm going to allow you to have me committed."
"No one allows it, dear," Angelica promised her. "You may think you can make such disastrous decisions on your own, but you are a member of royalty, which means you can be forced to adhere to our rules."
And she was right. Angelica could very well force her daughter into an asylum, unless her uncle Desmond blocked the move. As head of the family, Angelica couldn't force Lilly into anything without his help.
She had to fight the tremors threatening to rush through her body now, the fear that her mother would do something so horrible tearing through her. This was the part of her mother that her father had always s.h.i.+elded her from.
Lilly shook her head, disbelief still warring with fury as she stared at the mother she had always loved.
"Father would have never let you do something like this," she whispered painfully. "And you would have never truly considered it when he was alive."
"Oh, really, Lilly," her mother spat. "Surely you remember the arguments your father and I had? The screaming matches? They were all about you. He treated you more like his lover than his daughter."
Lilly recoiled in shock and disbelief. That hadn't been true! Her father had loved her. He had taught her to protect herself. He had trained her to protect the Crown. He had trusted her.
But there had been nothing indecent in her father's love for her.
"You're crazy!" Lilly stared at her mother in horror. "You're the one who needs to be committed, Mother, not me. You've lost your mind if you think you can make such an accusation or that I will allow anyone to lock me up. I'd kill them first."
"You should see yourself," her mother sneered. "You're at the edge of violence and unable to control yourself in the least. I'll be d.a.m.ned if I let you destroy yourself or the Harrington name further."
"That's enough, Angelica." Lilly swung around to face her uncle as he glared at her mother, the battle of wills heating the foyer with tension.
"You know it's the truth as well as I, Desmond," Angelica snapped. "Harold spoiled her atrociously. She believes she can do whatever she chooses now and embarra.s.s her family.
She's not some common little wh.o.r.e ripping around the countryside. She's related to the Queen, for G.o.d's sake."
"I'm sure the Queen really doesn't give a d.a.m.n what I'm doing at this moment or any other," Lilly snapped back. "I do know I've had enough of this conversation."
Turning from her uncle and her mother, Lilly headed for the winding staircase.
"Dr. Ridgemore will be here tomorrow to speak with you." Her mother's words had her freezing in her tracks. "Please try to look presentable, if you don't mind."
Lilly turned and looked at her uncle. "Are you going to allow this, Uncle Desmond?"
His expression was filled with disbelief as he stared at Angelica. "h.e.l.l no, I won't allow it."
He glared back at his wife.
"You think you're the only one who has the right to make a decision here." Angelica's head lifted arrogantly. "Jared can overrule you, Desmond, as you are not her legal father, and I promise you, he will."
Jared. Her brother. Oh G.o.d, the brother she had known and loved all those years ago would have never allowed her mother to do something so heinous.
"We'll see about that," Desmond said. "I'll call Ridgemore myself, Angelica. You don't have the power to stand against me on this."
Angelica was nearly shaking with rage as Lilly quickly moved up the stairs. Her voice lifted furiously.
"You think I have no power? Do you believe I will spend my life arguing with you over that child's destructive tendencies? I'll be d.a.m.ned if I will. She will learn to behave like a lady once and for all. Nothing else will be acceptable."
Lilly knew she had to get out of here.
She hurried to her bedroom and the large walk-in closet. There, she jerked the hidden backpack from inside one of the heavy pieces of luggage she had stored it in and threw it to the side. Pulling a change of clothes from the racks, she quickly dressed in jeans, a T-s.h.i.+rt, and hiking boots. She threw a light leather jacket over the backpack, slung the strap over her shoulder, then went quickly to the balcony.
Within seconds she was over the railing and hurrying toward the garage. But rather than enter the cavernous parking area, she moved past it, sprinted into the heavy foliage surrounding the stone wall, and within minutes was jumping lithely to the sidewalk beyond.