Page 92 of Spin Control

When Elio told me I’d be flying commercial and alone, I was overjoyed. But then I quickly realized he was sending me here blind and bound—no phone, no credit cards, and no backup. All I know is that someone will pick me up at the airport, and that when I have the opportunity to hand the envelope to Étienne’s dad, I have to take it.

This has all moved so fast that I doubt Jane has made much headway. Even if she were the most connected woman in the world, it’d be hard to find Elizabeth and Stas in such a tight time frame.

I look around the arrivals lobby for someone with my name on a sign and am entirely shocked to find a familiar, smiling face in the small crowd.

“Beaumont!” I yell the same way I did back in Monaco since I need to convince him I’m completely fine and not terrified. I hustle over to my friend, who matches my energy, crying “Grant!” before giving me a hug accented by a firm pat on the back. “Welcome to Druvia.”

I’m very aware of the eyes and cameras trained on us—and I’m sure Étienne is, too. We quickly head out to the parking garage, flanked by a security team, and pile into a sleek SUV with tinted windows and diplomatic plates.

We chat amiably on the drive, and I do my best not to seem anxious—it’s not easy to manage, especially when it dawns on me that I’m not being escorted to a hotel, but to the palace. After my bags are whisked away to my rooms, plural, Étienne asks if I need to rest or freshen up, but I just shrug. That’s how I find myself receiving a tour of the city-state in Étienne’s 1961 Jaguar E-Type.

“I’m no stranger to European vistas,” I say from my spot in the passenger seat as we pass stunning architecture nestled against a dramatic, mountainous backdrop. “But this is really something.”

“It’s not too shabby, right?” he says, smiling. With his wind-tousled blond hair, designer sunglasses, and dark blue linen button-up, he looks like some throwback movie star.

Étienne pulls over at a scenic overview on the side of a steep gradient that he tells me is going to be one of the most challenging hill climbs in the next Tour de France, then kills the engine. “Wes, why are you here, alone?”

My stomach does a very large somersault. “What do you mean? It’s summer break. Where else should I be?”

“In bed with your gorgeous girlfriend,” he says, a glint of amusement in his eyes. But there’s a note of concern in his voice that I don’t miss.

“She’s busy,” I say, hoping it sounds casual. “Plus, I’ve never been here before. I figured it was time.”

My friend hums. “It’s just like you to pick the weekend of my father’s birthday, when there are a ton of visiting dignitaries in town for the masked ball.”

I still can’t believe Elio is making me do this when everyone at the event will be wearing masks. Why not get one of his goons to do his dirty work? Why go through the trouble of kidnapping two people and blackmailing me? But I can’t blow this. “You know me. Can never pass up a good party.”

“What mask did you land on?”

“Oh, it’s super sexy,” I say, trying to keep the conversation light. “It’s black and has this gold design on it.”

I expect Étienne to laugh, but instead, he looks stricken. “What has Elio asked you to do?”

My jaw drops.

“Don’t lie to me, Wes,” Étienne says. “I suspected something was up the second I got a message from you that used proper capitalization. But when you said you wanted to come here when you could be spending your break with Elizabeth, I knew something wasn’t right. The only reason I can fathom is that Elio fucking Rocca has done something.”

It would be so simple to tell Étienne that he’s right. That Elio sent me here, that he has Elizabeth and Stas, that I need help.

But is this a trap? Is it possible Étienne is working with Elio? If I spill my guts to him, will he throw me off this completely deserted and highly treacherous mountain road to my inglorious death?

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

“There’s no masquerade, Wes,” Étienne says gently, his eyes kind. “It’s a detail we only gave to our person on the inside Elio’s operation. It’s how I know Elio sent you here—I assume against your will.”

Well, damn. But also, thank fuck.

“Do you really think I’m capable of being a villain?”

Étienne laughs. “After the way you terrorized me at Suzuka? Absolutely.”

I messed with his head during that race. I had more pace, but waited to overtake until I knew his tires were in too bad of shape for him to get past me again. He thought he was going to end up on the podium, but I stole that from him at the last minute. The fact that he still considered me a friend after that is pretty incredible. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Étienne grins over at me, but then switches back to the more serious topic. “Elio has been running a criminal enterprise for decades. From what we know, he started with trafficking drugs and has diversified his business over the years. He’s a master manipulator, has absolutely no moral compass, and will do anything for more money and power. And he’s had claws so deep in Stas and his family that it was hard to know whether or not he had them in you, too,” Étienne says. “I can help you, Wes. But I need you to trust me more than you fear Elio.”

I want to believe that I can. But how am I supposed to know for sure? Étienne could be a Grade-A liar. It wouldn’t shock me to learn that how to gain trust and manipulate your friends is something young royals specialize in. But I also know I can’t trust Elio. Even if I do what he asks, I have no guarantees that he’ll actually let both Elizabeth and Stas go.

I can’t take the chance that he might not.