Chapter 6: Trust Fall (What Stella Remembers)
Stella took Max's hand as she stepped from the limousine. Her eyes took in the mansion before her. It had been over a year since she'd been home and her feelings were mixed. She missed life here, it was true, but she'd set up her own thing in England now. Especially with Max in her life. Besides, she wasn't stupid and if her dad wanted her home for a meeting after so long something was seriously wrong.
Max held out his arm to her and she took it eagerly. As she looked at him in his tux, she had to admit he dressed up damn good. The cut framed him perfectly, every crease was sharp as a knife. He looked the perfect gentleman and yet, somehow, still a deadly thug. For a moment she reflected that a few minutes over the hood of the car might relieve some of her stress. She allowed herself a smile. Later, she thought. Right now, her father expected her presence.
"Blancmange and Spoon have arrived."
Stella looked to the side where she'd heard the voice. There was a guard standing near one of the decorative hedges in the near distance, partially hidden in shadow. He was looking at Max and her as he spoke on his earphone. She studied him closely. He didn't belong. It took her seconds to realize why.
"Max, that's not one of dad's guards," she whispered.
Max looked towards the guy she had indicated. "How do you know?"
"Dad would never give me a codename based on food, nor would he give you one that's something that goes into that food. Besides, he sounds British."
Max nodded. "Right. Let's leave."
Stella shook her head. "No. I'm not leaving dad in there. Unless they've replaced his personal guard he probably doesn't know. We need to warn him."
The front door opened as they reached it. Joseph Wynterbourn stood before them, beaming like he'd won the lottery. "Stella!" he said, grinning as he threw his arms around his daughter. "I've missed you."
"Dad?" she gasped as he hugged her tightly.
"Come to the back office," he whispered. "Act natural. Bring him."
He indicated Max as he let her go. Max barely frowned; his stance showed he was ready to do whatever was needed.
"We need to talk about how school is going for you two. Let's go somewhere quiet."
Joseph turned and headed back through the house. Two armed guards flanked him closely, scanning the crowd within for trouble. Another walked behind Stella and Max, close enough to stop any problems happening to them before they began.
"That's Tomas, Frank and Eddie," said Stella. "Trust them with your life."
It took a couple of minutes to cross the mansion to the back office. Several guests insisted on stopping Stella to say hello, though she shrugged them off as politely and quickly as possible. Finally they stepped inside the room after Joseph. He took a seat behind a polished mahogany desk and pressed a few buttons on his computer. At once two screens on the wall came on, showing two guards - the one by the fountain that Stella had indicated earlier and another guarding an upstairs room.
"The Brits have got in," he said. "I told you shit kicked off over the work you did, Stella. It's worse than I thought."
"Dad, we need to leave," Stella responded. Nobody had got through her father's security before and now there were two armed men in their house who shouldn't be there.
He shook his head. "David and Henry have their eyes on them. Rachel's on the roof with her rifle too. And I'm not letting these three," he indicated the guards, "out of my sight all night. We're safe, and we need to see what they're going to try, find out who they're working for."
"Fuck that, dad!" snapped Stella. "How long do you think it takes for someone to empty a clip into you? You'll be dead before they can act!"
Joseph gave a slight laugh. "You think I haven't thought about that? Yes, they'd take me out as soon as look at me, but not if they know they'll be dead a second later. They're criminals, not religious psychos. And they're good enough to have got in here. There's no profit in them dying."
He turned towards Max, sizing him up carefully. Max stared back at him, quiet but unyielding. For a moment, Stella felt like a tree between two dogs seeing who could piss higher.
"You, boy," said Joseph. "Are you truly your mother's son? Are you prepared to kill for my daughter?"
"You need to ask?" said Max. "I'll take out everyone in this room if I have to... Including YOU!"
"Max!" Stella grabbed his hand urgently. Max liked to play the bad boy, and she loved that about him. But threatening her dad was stupid.
Joseph stared at him for a moment. "Good! Remember that. She's the only thing I give a damn about. You'll have two guards on you for protection all night, but I'm relying on you to keep her safe."
Stella exhaled as her dad accepted Max's words. Then she snapped at him. "Why the hell didn't you cancel the dinner if you knew the Brits had got past your security?"
Joseph shrugged. "We didn't know until it was too late. We're scrambling to find out what the hell's going on. We only know it's due to the work you did over there because things were already getting sticky. That and the two guards who got in are obviously British."
"You know nothing?"
"Very little. But the Brits doing this took work. It's bigger than your reality star at this point. Not government big, but at least someone with pull."
Stella nodded, "Right, go mingle. Do what you need. I need your computer to get to work."
Joseph chuckled. "Stella, relax. I've got people investigating this already."
She gave him that look that only daughters can give their fathers. Her dad might think he had his best people on this, and there were some damn good investigators he knew, but he didn't have her. The look in her dad's eyes said he would brook no argument.
"Go enjoy the party, just make sure you stay close to the guard and..." He looked at Max, his gaze evaluating, calculating. "Genie's son."
Stella bit her lip and grabbed Max's arm. She wanted to yell at her father, to tell him he needed her working through the net to find out what was happening. But she knew that look, and she knew arguing was pointless.
"Fine! I'll go. I take it you're staying in here then, meeting guests one at a time?"
"Yeah," said her dad. "They're coming for me, not you. I've got my three top guys in here with me. When I need anything, I'll send one of them out. Nobody's getting through. As long as you're safe, it's all good."
"I got her covered, Sir," said Max, laying his hand on Stella's shoulder.
Joseph studied him a moment longer before nodding. "Good, now take this."
He reached into a drawer and pulled out a revolver, handing it to Max stock first.
"Desert Eagle. Loaded. Packs a hell of a punch."
He took it with a thank you. Stella reached up and held his hand. She felt more comfortable with Max at her side than any body guard. Of course, she had her.22 hidden away too for emergencies, but she had little doubt Max would have two shots off against an enemy before she even reached her gun.
She smiled at her dad, glad he was choosing to trust Max. She'd felt certain that things would go very differently between them, but given the stakes her dad was being sensible. Taking her lover's arm again she turned towards the ballroom.
"Let's go mingle," she said.
It wasn't that Stella enjoyed balls -- in truth she'd rather be alone with Max or working on the computer -- it was that she was good at them. She drifted through the crowd like a battleship, slow, majestic, untroubled and assessing every threat and every opportunity in her way. To those who needed to be encouraged to trade with her father she gave compliments perfectly selected for their status and needs. To those who seemed like they might be trouble, she gave polite discouragement in the form of reminders that there were far more savvy moves than causing trouble for a Wynterbourn. And on the two occasions that someone seemed interested in more than business interactions with her she made it clear it was Max's flag that flew over her bows.
She felt like hell. Like a duck on water, she looked calm on the surface, but she was paddling like crazy underneath. Her dad was in danger and she was making small talk?
Battleships needed to be active in the war zone, not drifting safe waters. She reached for Max and held him close, glad when he guided her onto the dance floor for a while to get her away from intrusive conversations.
"So, your first Wynterbourn affair," she said. "What do you think?"
"Seems like pretty standard stuff," he said. "High society smells about the same whether it's old money or new. I can't say much for the food though."
