Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

“Can I pet your dog?”

Magnus looked up from where he had been scrolling through the emails on his cell phone as he sat on a bench in one of London’s smaller parks. It was late summer, and the sun was shining brightly overhead.

He immediately did a double take as he found himself looking into the most innocent and unusual violet-colored eyes he had ever seen.

The innocent part, considering the little girl standing near him could only be, at most, four or five years old, was a given. She also had long golden hair brushed back in a high ponytail and was wearing a T-shirt with a rainbow unicorn depicted on the front of it, along with pink shorts. Her pink-sandaled feet dangled a foot or so off the ground as she sat opposite him. All adding to her air of innocence.

None of which was in the least relevant when a hasty glance in the near vicinity didn’t reveal a frantic mother, or father, desperately searching for their missing angel.

“Are you here with your Mummy?” Magnus considered her to be a very remiss mummy if the lack of her concerned presence was any indication.

“No.”

“Daddy?”

“No.”

The fuck…!

“Nanny or Grandpa, then?”

“No. Can I pet your dog?” she repeated with a covetous look at the panting cream West Highland Terrier sitting at his feet.

“You can, yes,” he answered. Angus was super friendly and not at all aggressive, but Magnus was becoming more and more concerned at the lack of an adult to supervise—and protect—this beautiful little girl. “But he isn’t my dog,” he added distractedly.

Luckily, she had chosen wisely when she had decided to speak to Magnus. There were a hell of a lot of deviant men, and women, whose motives in answering her wouldn’t have been as trustworthy.

“Then why is he sitting beside you?” she persisted.

“Because I’m looking after him for a friend.”

“What friend?”

“My cousin Rufus.”

“Your cousin is your friend?”

“He’s also my business partner.” He didn’t feel the need to tell a little girl that he and his two brothers, plus their cousin, owned and ran the worldwide company, Wynter Security.

Magnus usually ran the New York office, but he had stayed on in England, in the apartment he kept in London, after Rufus’s wedding so that he could look after the London office in his cousin’s absence and also take care of Angus. He was enjoying it so much, he was thinking of moving back to London permanently and letting Knox, his deputy, remain in charge of New York.

“I don’t have any cousins or a busi—busi—a partner.”

“I’m sorry.” Considering the sadness of her expression, it seemed the right thing for him to say.

“Why isn’t your cousin looking after his own dog?”

“Because he’s away on his honeymoon.”

She wrinkled her tiny nose in concentration. “What’s a honeymoon?” She looked up into the moonless sky, as if searching for the answer to that question.

Magnus grinned at how cute that was.

Cute?

Had he just thought something this little girl said and did was cute ?

Fuck!

“It’s a holiday people go on after they get married,” he bit out.

“Oh.” She looked suitably unimpressed. “My mummy isn’t married.”

Okay. “Neither am I,” Magnus offered.

“Do you have any little girls of your own?”

“No.”

“I’m not your cousin or busi—partner, or your little girl, so can I be your friend instead?”

The thought of this little angel being his daughter caused an ache in Magnus’s chest.

Which was fucking ridiculous!

All Magnus had done was leave the office to go to Rufus’s house at lunchtime to collect Angus and bring the cream-colored West Highland Terrier to the park for a walk. He had then intended taking the dog back to Rufus’s house before returning to work in the executive office situated in the London-based Wynter Security building for the rest of the afternoon.

He certainly hadn’t envisaged being accosted by a three- or four-year-old child—he’d now decided she was probably younger than he’d initially thought—while he was at the park.

Or feeling as if he were being interviewed for a job he hadn’t applied for… “Look, angel?—”

“How do you know my name?” She gave him a pleased smile.

“I don’t,” he answered cautiously.

She frowned slightly. “But you just called me Angel.”

His brows rose. “That’s your name?”

She nodded. “Angelique, but Mummy always calls me Angel.”

Magnus would too. “My name is Magnus. It was the name of a Norwegian king,” he explained when she eyed him quizzically, obviously never having heard the name before. “Where is your mummy right now?” He diverted the conversation rather than continuing to explain the meaning of his name or where Norway was.

“At work. It’s Tuesday, and Mummy always works in the library on a Tuesday?—”

“Angelique Jones!” a strident voice shouted across the park as a thin and harried-looking red-haired woman, probably aged in her midthirties, hurried toward them.

Magnus frowned at her. “Is that your mummy?”

“No, that’s Miss Francesca.” She leaned forward across the table so she could confide, “She’s mean.”

Magnus’s hackles rose defensively at the thought of anyone being mean to this little sweetheart. “In what way is she mean?”

“She won’t let me bring Henry with me into nursery, even on Show and Tell day, and if I don’t eat my lunch quickly enough, she won’t let me have any dessert either.”

Magnus could see by the earnest expression on Angel’s face that she considered both those things to be the height of meanness. Magnus didn’t think it was particularly nice to deny a small child her cuddly toy named Henry, or dessert either.

He also found himself agreeing with her that Miss Francesca certainly looked mean when the cross and slightly breathless redhead arrived beside where they were sitting.

She ignored him completely as she grasped Angel’s arm to pull the little girl off the wooden seat so that the woman was now towering over her. From the way Angel’s skin showed white around the edge of those fingers, the woman wasn’t being gentle about it either.

“I have told you before about wandering off.” She bent down to snap furiously into Angel’s face. “It’s dangerous. There are people in the park who might take you away and do terrible?—”

“Hey, now, I don’t think there’s any need to frighten the child.” Magnus stood to look down the length of his nose at the woman who was obviously an employee at the nursery Angel said she attended. “Unless that last remark was aimed at me? In which case, we’re going to have a problem.” He raised a single eyebrow in challenge.

Magnus was well aware of how some people found his height and appearance alarming.

He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit and shirt, with a silk tie. But those expensive trappings didn’t detract from the fact that at four inches over six feet tall, with a wide and muscular chest and shoulders, he looked intimidating. He also had a thick dark beard the same color as his hair, and it pretty well covered the lower half of his face.

Which was why it was doubly interesting to him that this cute little girl, out of all the people in the park she could have chosen, decided to speak to him. He accepted the draw of Angus was the reason for her initial conversation, but it wasn’t why she had continued to stay and talk to him.

The woman had the grace to look a little uncomfortable, but she didn’t back down. “I am merely trying to instill in Angelique how dangerous it was for her to run off and then to start speaking to a complete stranger.”

“Of course you are.” Magnus took a step forward to pry the woman’s fingers off Angel’s arm. As he had expected, the skin beneath was already red as an indication it would later bruise. He lifted his narrowed gaze to glare at the woman as he spoke to the child rather than this poor excuse for an adult. “What is the name of your nursery, Angel?”

“Buzzy Bees,” she announced proudly.

“Mm.” Magnus’s cold gaze narrowed on the woman standing beside her. “What are you doing at the park?”

“I and four of my colleagues brought ten of the older children to feed the ducks in the lake over there. We were in charge of two children each,” Miss Francesca explained tartly. “None of us realized until a few minutes ago that Angelique had wandered off,” she accused with another glare at the little girl.

“She prefers to be called Angel.”

“I don’t approve of nicknames,” the woman informed him with a haughty sniff.

Did she just fucking sniff at him?

Magnus had only met this woman a few seconds ago, but he already knew there would be a whole slew of things Miss Francesca “didn’t approve of.” Including him.

Unfortunately for her, Magnus didn’t approve of her either. “And was it you or one of your colleagues who was put in charge of keeping Angel safe?”

Angry color darkened those thin cheeks. “I wasn’t put anywhere.”

“But she was under your protection?”

“Yes, but?—”

“I’m sure you are as aware as I am that there are no acceptable buts where the safety and well-being of a child is concerned,” Magnus bit out before turning to the little girl. “It has been a privilege and a pleasure to meet you, little Angel,” he told her warmly as he drew out his wallet from the breast pocket of his jacket to take out one of his private cards. It had the address of his London apartment and his cell phone number on it. “Would you please give this to your mummy and ask her to call me?” He crouched down to hand the card to the little girl. “There are a few things I would like to discuss with her.” He gave Miss Francesca a pointed glance as he straightened back to his full height.

The woman’s scowl told him there was very little possibility of that business card getting into the hands of Angel’s mummy. Or anyone else in a position of authority who might demand answers for her behavior. But Magnus wasn’t concerned, because he now had the name of the nursery.

How many Buzzy Bees nurseries could there be?

A whole damn lot, as it happened, Magnus discovered when he returned to his office and started looking online. Bees were apparently a thing right now, and Buzzy, the lady in charge of the second nursery he’d called wanting to know if a Miss Francesca worked there had explained, was a play on the word busy.

Magnus had decided before making the calls that it would be more prudent to ask if a Miss Francesca was an employee rather than if Angelique Jones was one of the children in their care. He doubted the name of a child, or confirmation she was one of their charges, was the sort of information any self-respecting person running a nursery would be willing to share.

At least he sincerely hoped that not everyone who worked at a children’s nursery was as careless with the safety and privacy of their young charges as this Francesca woman had been earlier today.

Magnus struck lucky at the fifth nursery when he spoke to a very pleasant-sounding young lady who confirmed that yes, they had a Miss Francesca in their employ. She happily introduced herself as Allison Fairbody, but refused to give out any other details about one of her employees.

Luckily, Magnus didn’t need to know anything more than he did to feel justified in making an appointment to see Allison Fairbody at five thirty that evening. When she’d asked what it was in connection to, he’d told her the truth. He wanted to talk about Miss Francesca, but it was also in relation to Angelique Jones. At the mention of Angel, Ms. Fairbody had become even more guarded in her manner.

Magnus knew it was none of his fucking business if this Francesca woman was incompetent at her job. But he didn’t like cruelty or bullying in any shape or form. Plus, he’d witnessed the woman’s physical cruelty toward Angel today. Angel had also told him of how the woman denied her the comfort of her cuddly toy and the pleasure of desserts. The first for no good reason Magnus could see, and the second for the minor infringement of not having eaten enough to earn the dessert.

As far as he was concerned, Francesca sounded like an all-round nasty piece of work. She certainly shouldn’t have any authority over small children, but especially a cute little girl like Angel.

There he went again with the cute , when he had never called anyone that in his entire life before.

Put that together with his appointment to visit the nursery this evening, and Magnus knew he was well and truly fucked.

Sapphie desperately tried to remain outwardly calm. Which wasn’t all that easy to do when inside, she was already frantically making plans for as quick and quiet a getaway from London for herself and Angel as she could in the next couple of hours.

All because Allison Fairbody had been waiting for Sapphie when she arrived at the nursery a few minutes ago. She had wanted her to know that a man called Magnus Wynter, a man Sapphie had assured the other woman she didn’t know and had never heard of, was due to arrive any minute after telephoning to make inquiries about Angel earlier today.

“I did ask for you to call me if something like this happened so that I could take Angel out of school as quickly as possible.” She winced at hearing the accusation in her tone. “I’m sorry, that was unfair of me when you kindly agreed to take Angel in the first place, even knowing of our…family circumstances.”

“As I told you then, and I’ll repeat now, several of our charges come from contentious family backgrounds,” Allison soothed. “It’s the way of the world nowadays. It’s the reason we have a security guard on duty during the day.” She nodded to the man standing off to one side of the hallway. “As well as cameras strategically placed to ensure we know the children are safe at all times in their classrooms.”

Which was the main reason Sapphie had chosen Buzzy Bees Nursery when Angel expressed a wish to go to playschool and be with other children when they arrived in London six months ago. But something had obviously gone wrong with Sapphie’s own security measures, either here or at the building where they rented a small apartment, for this man to have made an appointment to come here this evening to talk about Angel specifically.

Sapphie frantically tried to think of how or what she might have done to draw attention to herself and her beloved daughter.

She honestly couldn’t think of a damn thing. But she must have done something, or this man wouldn’t be arriving at the nursery school in?—

God, five minutes!

Which meant she only had that amount of time to collect Angel from the playroom and get the hell out of there.

“I tried to call you several times this afternoon, but your cell kept going to voicemail,” Allison apologized. “I left a message each time.”

Sapphie always turned her cell phone to silent when she was working in the library, as a courtesy to the other people there. The phone had been sitting on the desktop this afternoon as she worked. She must have been too distracted to see it light up with Allison’s calls. She’d then been late leaving the library, which was why she hadn’t checked her messages either before hurrying here to pick up Angel at five thirty.

“Besides,” Allison continued with a frown, “I was curious about the fact Mr. Wynter’s initial query was if a Miss Francesca worked here, before he even got round to mentioning Angel.”

A fact that puzzled Sapphie too, but it in no way lessened her feelings of panic.

Or the way her mind was still racing as she inwardly cataloged all that she had to do before they could leave London.

She always arranged their lives in such a way that she and Angel could, if they really had to, leave with just the clothes on their backs and their passports and money in the backpack Sapphie always carried with her.

But she would prefer, for Angel’s sake, not to have to do that.

Her daughter was going to be upset at them having to move yet again. Leaving behind what few personal possessions they had would only increase the trauma of the situation.

“Mr. Wynter didn’t sound threatening,” Allison tried to assure.

As Sapphie knew only too well, most monsters didn’t. Not initially, anyway.

In any case, it really didn’t matter what or who this Magnus Wynter was. The fact he had mentioned Angel by name was enough to set off all of Sapphie’s finely honed survival instincts.

She and Angel needed to leave London.

She would take the time to collect their two small packed to-go bags from their apartment on the way to the railway station. She’d decide their destination once they got there. Whatever train was leaving the station next!

Unfortunately, before Sapphie could put that plan into action, she saw a black SUV turn into the driveway.

Its windows were tinted so that the people inside couldn’t be seen as the vehicle parked directly in front of the door of the nursery building where she and Allison were standing. But Sapphie instinctively knew the driver would be Magnus Wynter.