CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

"Hello?"

"Daph? It's Brix."

"Oh, hello. It's great to hear your voice," she smiled.

"Yours too, honey. Listen, we're headed that way, and we need to get into that warehouse and see what's there. Can you meet us and give us access? If not, we can figure it out. We just didn't want to raise any alarms if it wasn't there."

"No, no, of course I can. It will give me an excuse to refuse dinner with my parents. They're driving me mad," she said with exasperation.

Brix was quiet for a long moment, working up his courage. She didn't say anything, but he could hear her soft breathing.

"Brix? Are you there?"

"I'm here, honey. Daph, I have no right to ask this of you, but please don't have dinner with anyone. I want to be the only person you want to have dinner with for the foreseeable future. I know that's wrong and selfish, and…"

"Exactly what I was hoping you would say," she laughed. "I've been waiting for you to say something that told me you wanted more than one night, Brix. I've never felt a stronger connection with anyone in my entire life. I want to spend some time with you, and it seems as though now is the right time to take a break from the auction house."

"I think it's a perfect time, Daph. Listen, I'll text you when we land. Don't leave the house right now. Wait for another, let's say, ninety minutes. Find a restaurant or other public place to sit in until I text you. Do not go to that warehouse alone."

"I promise. Brix? Is it true that Elena's father is alive?"

"It's true," he said. "Hey, I'll see you soon. We're almost there. Be careful, Daphne. Don't take any risks. If you have to turn around and go home, do it fast."

"I will. I'll see you soon," she smiled. The call ended, and she quickly put on a pair of black leggings, hiking boots, and a warm sweater. It might be summer, but England was still cold at night.

Pulling an overnight bag from her closet, she packed several changes of clothes and took them downstairs and into her car. When she walked back inside, she could hear her parents talking.

"She's got to take some responsibility here," said her mother.

"She will, dear. She's a good girl. She knows that we need an heir. I admit we made a mistake the first time, but we'll do better this go around." Daphne stood in the doorway, staring at them.

"Better this time around? You mean someone who won't beat me to death?" They started to speak, and she held up her hand. "Don't. Don't attempt to make this sound as if you have my best interests at heart. I'm sorry you lost a daughter. Truly, I am. But this behavior is going to cause you to lose another.

"I am not going to marry anyone of your choosing. If I get married, and that's a big if it will be a man that I choose, that I love, that I have a connection with. I will not be forced into another relationship."

"We admitted that we'd made a mistake, Daphne. Your father needs a grandchild to give all of this to."

"Give it to charity, mother. I don't care. I make a good living. My trust is performing well in the markets. I don't need this house or your money." Her mother just stared at her, fuming from her alleged disinterest.

"What are you wearing?" frowned her father. "You look as if you're going to dig in the garden."

"Maybe I am," she smiled. "I'm not going to be here for dinner for the next few nights. I'm going to meet some friends in the city, and I'll be there for a few days."

"We'll send security," said her mother, racing toward the house phone.

"Nope," said Daphne, waving at them as she walked out the door. "I'll see you soon. I love you both but don't do this, or you'll lose me."

Just as she opened the door, three men and a woman were standing there, ready to knock. Daphne knew exactly why they'd come. She turned to her parents.

"A woman?"

"We were trying to cover all possible bases," said her father. She could only shake her head.

"Apologies, everyone. I won't be joining you for dinner tonight." She got into her sports car and sped away, spinning gravel with her tires as she did. When she felt certain no one was following her and that she was clear of her small village, she felt more at ease.

Traffic was moving in the opposite direction, with London workers catching trains home, driving their miserable commutes, and hopefully getting home in time for a hot meal. She weaved through the busy city streets, then took the roads that led her around the congested portions of the city and to the warehouse near the airport.

She knew the area like the back of her hand. The Wicked Wick was a local pub with great food and a fun atmosphere. She'd been in it many times with coworkers and knew it would be a safe place to wait for Brix's call.

Daphne ordered a pint and shepherd's pie. She savored the flavorful gravy, hot vegetables, and lamb. The waitstaff and bartender knew her, smiling and chatting for a few minutes. When Brix texted her that they were ten minutes out, she paid her bill and drove to the warehouse.

She followed Brix's directions. Or at least she tried to. When she saw the bright bursts of lights inside the warehouse, she knew something was wrong.

"Shit," she muttered. She tried calling Brix but gave up, realizing that she had to get inside.

Using her key card and code to bypass the alarm, she entered the warehouse and slowly closed the door, trying not to make a sound. She removed her hiking boots, setting them on one of the dozens of crates. Walking in her stocking feet, she didn't make a sound.

As she neared the source of the lights, she heard two men talking but couldn't make out what they'd said. The lights were no longer flashing, only the overhead lights on. Thinking she could send Brix a message, she opened her phone and began to type. She never realized that her phone would send a light straight to the men in the warehouse.

"What are you doing here?"

"I-I work here," she said. "What are you doing here? Are you here for a pickup?" She was scared to death but had to think of something. The man looked down at her feet and smiled.

"You are a foolish, foolish girl."