I hadn’t considered that it must be hard for him to move away from his team.”
Frankie nodded, tension a vise around her neck. This was wrong—she was wrong. Adam was Zara’s boyfriend. Subdued, gentle. Living with her, sleeping with her. Oh, God. She swallowed the revulsion that rose in her throat. No, she was wrong. Running on sleep fumes and obsession. Seeing connections that weren’t there.
She held the pin up with a cocked brow. “You sure it’s his?”
“‘A’ for Adam,” Zara intoned, picking up a tartlet and biting into it. “It’s definitely his. I see it every couple of weeks—he wears it when he goes out for drinks with his cousins. His great-grandfather gave it to him for his sixth birthday. I’m sure he’s noticed it’s missing.”
Shit.
“I’m sure he has,” she lied.
Zara held her palm out across the coffee table as she continued to eat. “I’ll give it back to him.”
Alarmed, Frankie said, “Actually, I’m heading to Mark’s place later to touch base with my team about tonight’s events. I’ll find Adam while I’m there.”
Her friend raised a shoulder. “Okay.”
Okay. Damn it. Zara might even mention this to Adam when Ava and Mark’s parties met up later that night. Which meant Frankie had to pursue this fast. If Adam wasn’t a part of the anarchist group, he could chuckle about the improbability of Frankie finding a pin so similar to his. But if he was . . .
Frankie eyed her friend, dread in her heart.
If he’d played a role in the balcony collapse—then they’d all been fooled.
“Do you have anything else you need to organize before tonight?” Frankie pocketed the pin and mentally added, because I sure as hell do.
Zara slumped back in the armchair and blew a breath up her face, shifting a wispy hair away from her eyes. “I think that’s it.”
“Then let’s finish these.” Frankie grabbed another tartlet and let out a sigh. The silence of the sitting room was ringing in her ears. “Thanks for coming. It’s good to have an excuse to sit still for a second.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So, Adam.” How was this for subtle? “How are things going with him, anyway?”
Zara blinked. “Oh.” Her surprise swept into a small smile. “Good, I guess.”
“I don’t remember your hook-up story.” Frankie quirked a vaguely amused brow. “How did you meet the man who personally serves our king?”
Blushing, Zara said, “It’s not very exciting. I advertised a room for rent like six months ago to help pay off my mortgage, and he seemed the most respectable of the applicants.”
“The handsome part had nothing to do with it, obviously.”
Her friend grinned.
“It worked out well for you both that he didn’t take up residence at the palace when he became Mark’s manservant.” Which, now that Frankie thought about it, was an odd logistical choice.
“He prefers having his own space. More privacy.”
Frankie bet he did. “And you hit it off once he moved in?”
“Well. I know it’s weird, but for the first few months he was hardly ever around. When he was home, he was polite, but distant. I found it pretty mysterious and got this huge crush.” Zara shook her head at herself, reaching forward for more tea. “It wasn’t until Ava’s visit that things changed.”
Frankie’s dread expanded at the suspicious timing.
“Yeah?” she asked, extending her own cup. Zara poured for her and they both leaned back again. “He finally noticed how freaking awesome you are?”
“Supposedly he’d already noticed.” Her friend laughed, cheeks still pink. “But he was so subtle, I couldn’t tell. Anyway, I’d seen his bags packed inside his bedroom door one morning. I assumed he—”
“Sorry, when was this?”
Zara blinked. “Uh. Like, Ava’s visit. So, around the royal funeral and stuff? I assumed he’d wanted to leave because he’d figured out that I was into him and he wasn’t interested.”
Frankie nodded. Having his bags packed so soon after the balcony collapse screamed quick getaway.
“I got in first,” Zara continued. “I bumped into him randomly at the palace after I’d called on Ava and told him that he should move out—it would be better for both of us. He looked so shocked.”
Frankie shoved the rest of the tartlet into her mouth so she wouldn’t have to think of a response. Yeah, it must have been quite the shock to discover his flat-mate was friends with the very princess who was getting close to his king. Zara would have gleamed like a gold tap of information—but he had to get close before her words would flow freely.