I frantically scan the area. His car’s next to the curb, but Thio’s nowhere, and I don’t even get out a question before Hordon’s opening the rear door for me.
“He’s visiting his mother,” Hordon tells me.
“He’s—did he send you for me?”
Hordon straightens his suit jacket, his face impassive. “Mr. Tourael’s instructions were to deliver him to Blooming Grove despite our scheduled trip to today’s presentation.”
So… no.
One of my brows lifts.
“Given his change of plans over what I know is a very important event,” Hordon continues, “intensified by the fact that he seemed… uncharacteristically upset, I delivered him to Blooming Grove and took my break early.”
Hordon nudges the door wider.
Some of the tension unwinds from my shoulders, and I slump forward. “Thank you.”
He shrugs, like it’s part of his job, like it’s no big deal that he came to get me when he sure as hell didn’t have to.
“Wait right there!”
The door to Bellanor Hall bangs off the wall, and Hordon and I spin to see Arasne and Thio’s family pointing at us, looking slightly winded; which, for uptight, rich assholes, is the equivalent of being completely disheveled.
“Mr. Walsh,” Hordon says. “I do believe we should hurry.”
I dive into the car.
He shuts the door and calmly rounds the hood as Arasne and her brigade storm toward us.
Hordon takes the driver’s seat. Adjusts his rearview mirror.
“Seatbelt, Mr. Walsh,” is the only warning I get before the dude guns it into a full one-eighty.
Tires scream over the blacktop, the engine bellows like a cave monster, and somewhere behind us—beside us? We’re spinning—Arasne shouts about Hordon being fired.
“Um, Hordon, I think you lost your—”
“Seatbelt, please,” he repeats as he tears out of the parking lot, expertly weaving into traffic.
I obey with a discreet click, unable to scrape off my grin.
We get to Blooming Grove in under twelve minutes.
Hordon squeals up in front of the main doors and I lurch against the seatbelt as he slams the brakes.
“Would you like me to get the door for you, sir?” he asks evenly.
I stay glued to the seat, one hand gripping theoh shitbar by the window.
“Nah, man.” My voice is squeaky. “I’m good.”
“Very well, Mr. Walsh.”
“You got fired for us.”
Hordon looks back at me. “I have driven the Tourael family for almost twenty-five years. And your Mr. Tourael?” Gods, I like that,my Mr. Tourael. “I suspect I would not have been driving him muchlonger anyway. This is as good a time as any to take an early retirement.”
I pry my fingers off the handle and lean forward to squeeze his shoulder. “Thank you.”
