THE KING'S PROPERTY

Chapter 2: The Study

Xavier's mother held her smile like a blade she hadn't decided where to plant yet. Abigail stood frozen between them, the camera strap biting into her shoulder, aware that whatever came out of her mouth next could tip everything in one direction or the other.

"I only photographed what I was asked to photograph," she said, careful, neutral. "I don't know the history here."

"Of course you don't, dear." The woman's gaze swept over her, quick and dismissive, the kind of look that catalogued a person's worth in half a second and moved on. "Xavier, why don't you let the girl finish her work and come inside. We have things to discuss."

"We have nothing to discuss that requires an audience, Vivienne."

The use of her first name instead of Mother landed like a slap. Abigail watched something flicker across the woman's face before it smoothed back into composure.

The half brother stepped forward, hands in his pockets, the picture of ease. "Come on, Xavier. No need to be dramatic in front of the help."

Abigail felt her spine straighten. She wasn't the help. But she also wasn't about to correct a man who looked at her like she was furniture in someone else's argument.

Xavier turned to her instead of answering his brother, and the shift in his attention was so sudden it startled her. "Miss Lee. Inside. Now."

It wasn't gentle, but it wasn't cruel either. It was the tone of a man pulling something out of the blast radius before it went off.

She went.

The study was cooler than the garden, all dark wood and tall windows, a desk buried under folders that looked like they hadn't been touched in days. Xavier closed the door behind them and the noise from the terrace disappeared, replaced by a silence so complete Abigail could hear her own pulse.

"You didn't have to do that," she said.

"Do what."

"Get me out of there. I can handle two people being rude to me."

"That wasn't rudeness." He crossed to the desk, dragged a hand through his hair, and for the first time she saw the exhaustion underneath the control, the kind that came from months of holding a line by himself. "That was a performance. Everything Vivienne does in front of witnesses is a performance. She wanted you to see me lose my temper so she could tell a judge I'm unstable."

"And your brother?"

"Half brother." The correction came fast, automatic. "Julian doesn't need a reason. He wants what I have. He's wanted it since we were children. The rest is just choreography."

Abigail set her camera bag down on a chair, unsure what she was supposed to do with any of this. She'd come here for two thousand dollars and a few hours of work. Now she was standing in a stranger's study, holding evidence that could end a man's claim to his own home.

"Show me," Xavier said, nodding toward the camera. "Please."

There it was again. That word, foreign in his mouth, like he'd had to dig for it.

She pulled up the photos on the small display screen and turned it toward him. He leaned in, close enough that she caught the cedar again, close enough that she noticed the tension in his jaw easing slightly as he scrolled through image after image of cracked stone and water stains.

"These are accurate," he admitted. "The east wing does have damage. I've had contractors out twice this year."

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is context." He straightened, and something about the way he looked at her then was different, less guarded, like he'd decided in the last ten seconds that she wasn't the enemy after all. "Alone, these photos say the house is failing and I've done nothing. They don't show the contractor invoices. They don't show the repairs already scheduled. Vivienne will submit them to the court as proof of neglect, and Julian's lawyer will argue I'm incapable of maintaining what our father left me."

"That's not fair."

"Fair has nothing to do with it." He said it simply, without bitterness, like a fact he'd made peace with a long time ago. "This house was supposed to go to me outright. My father's will was clear. But wills can be contested, and money buys very good lawyers, and Vivienne has both."

Abigail looked at him for a long moment. Up close, without an audience to perform for, he looked younger than she'd first thought, and tired in a way that made her chest ache in a way she didn't have a name for yet.

"I can write a statement," she said. "For your lawyer. That I was hired without full context, that these were meant to be selective documentation, not a full survey. It might not help much, but it's something."

He looked at her like she'd offered him something rare.

"You'd do that."

"I don't like being used as a weapon in someone else's fight. Especially not against someone who just stood between me and two people who looked at me like I was disposable."

Something in his expression cracked open, just slightly, just enough for her to see the man underneath the armor. He didn't say thank you. He didn't seem like a man who said it easily. Instead he crossed the room to a small cabinet, pulled out a bottle of water, and set it in front of her without a word, the kind of small unthinking gesture that meant more than a hundred practiced ones.

"You've been out in that garden since morning," he said, like that explained everything. "You should sit."

"I have three more sections to shoot before Delphine expects the memory card back."

"Delphine can wait." His voice had an edge of command in it now, low and certain. "You're not finishing this job today. Not until I know exactly what she's planning to do with what you already have."

"That's not really your call to make."

"No," he agreed. "It isn't. But I'm making it anyway."

There was something dangerous in the way he said it, possessive in a way that should have made her bristle and instead sent a strange heat through her chest. She opened her mouth to argue, and that was when the study door swung open without a knock.

Julian stood in the frame, that same hungry smile stretched across his face, eyes flicking between Xavier and Abigail with an expression that made her skin crawl.

"Well," he said. "Isn't this cozy."

Xavier stepped half in front of her before she even registered him moving, a small shift, barely noticeable, except that it put his shoulder between her and his brother like a wall going up.

"Get out of my study, Julian."

"Mother sent me to remind you the meeting with the estate lawyer is in an hour. She thought you might want to bring your new friend." Julian's gaze slid to Abigail again, slower this time, assessing. "Miss Lee, was it? I do hope Xavier is paying you fairly for whatever it is you're doing in here."

"She's leaving," Xavier said flatly. "Alone. And you're not to speak to her again."

Julian's smile widened, unbothered, almost delighted by the reaction he'd gotten. "Careful, brother. People might start to think you actually care what happens to her."

He left before Xavier could answer, the door clicking shut behind him with a softness that felt worse than a slam.

Abigail stood very still, heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with fear anymore.

"He's wrong," Xavier said, after a moment, not quite looking at her. "About the caring part. I don't know you well enough to care what happens to you."

"Okay," she said slowly, not sure why that landed somewhere tender in her chest.

"But I know what it looks like when Julian decides someone is a piece on his board." His eyes found hers, dark and steady. "And I'm not going to let that happen to you because you walked into my garden with a camera and no idea what you were stepping into."

Abigail's phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced down. A text from Delphine, three words long, and the moment she read them her stomach dropped straight through the floor.

Send the card now.

She looked up at Xavier, and the question in her eyes must have shown, because his expression sharpened instantly, reading trouble before she'd said a single word.

"What is it," he said.

Abigail turned the phone toward him, hand not quite steady.

"She knows I'm still here," she said. "And she wants the memory card before I leave this house."