that.”
“Yes, the Council of Nobles,” Arthur agreed, nodding and commiserating. He still had no idea what that meant.
“I need Maxence here because I need his damn vote, not fucking off with Estebe Fournier’s wife!”
Funny, neither Arthur nor the others had mentioned Estebe Fournier or his wife, Simone Maina, yet.
Pierre had not only known that Maxence was missing, but also with whom.
Now, was it a collaboration or a competition to kidnap Maxence?
Also, Pierre seemed very assured of Maxence’s vote in whatever matter that was, so maybe Pierre hadn’t killed him.
Arthur wasn’t sure, though. He ventured, “It was like she made him disappear within the casino.”
“That’s what Jordan Defrancesco said.”
Arthur nodded and allowed a hint of a smile on his mouth. “Oh? Jordan Defrancesco saw it happen?”
“Yes.”
“How fortuitous that your man happened to be right there and saw them.”
Pierre flipped his fingers in the air, exasperated. “I had him following Maxence.”
“Is he reliable?”
“He’s a special forces operator.”
Pierre had commandos following Maxence that night, not merely bodyguards. Interesting. “It’s good that you had Maxence under surveillance last night.”
“I always have a team on him.”
That was true.
And yet—
Something was still not right.
Maxence always ditched his bodyguards. It wasn’t a game for him or mere petulance. Max eluded Pierre’s bodyguards because, in most situations, it was safer for Maxence to be on his own rather than under Pierre’s thumb.
Last night, Pierre’s security had been closing in on Max. As Arthur had seen in the surveillance footage at the casino, at least two bulky men had been encroaching on Maxence’s position between the two casino rooms before Simone Maina had bolted through the salon to Max.
And then he’d disappeared.
The question was, had Max evaded Pierre’s security as usual and disappeared on his own, or had Pierre or someone else taken him and Arthur hadn’t detected the snatch?
Yes, Pierre could have been working with Estebe Fournier to find Simone and, most likely, capture Maxence.
Both of them were just the type of psychopaths who would do it, too.
There had to be some way for Arthur to force Pierre to make a mistake.
Arthur said to Pierre, “Good foresight of you to have security on Maxence.”
“Of course, I do. I always do. If anything happens to me—” Pierre shook his head.
Arthur let his gaze drift away from Pierre as if he were bored, turning to look out of the windows and beyond to the sparkling, blue Mediterranean Sea that shaded to silver in the morning sunlight. His tone was careless. “Yes, yes. I’m sure you go to great lengths to protect your brother.”
“I do,” Pierre snapped.
“Especially with the impending Council of Nobles meeting.”
Pierre’s hand drifted up to his forehead, and his fingers combed through his hair, mussing it, a gesture of significant distress for him. “Yeah.”
“Is that why you had him taken to your yacht?” Arthur kept his tone thoroughly disinterested. “For his own safekeeping?”
“I didn’t have him taken anywhere,” Pierre said. “I told you, he slipped away from Defrancesco.”
“And yet,” Arthur still seemed to stare out the window, but he was watching Pierre with his peripheral vision, “your yacht is missing.”
“My yacht is missing?” Pierre stammered. “Which one?”
“The Last Toy. Were you on it last night?”
“I haven’t been on it in months. Ever since—” Pierre paused, and he turned to look out of the window and to the glittering sea beyond.
“Ever since what, Pierre?” Arthur prodded, knowing that Pierre meant since his wife had disappeared. Arthur wondered vaguely if the yacht had anything to do with her disappearance.
Pierre said, “Nothing. Immaterial. Fuck, he stole my yacht?”
That was interesting. Pierre’s exclamation and easy blame were predicated on his underlying belief that Maxence was still at liberty, or at least that Pierre didn’t have Maxence stashed away somewhere.
It seemed that Pierre did think that Max had gotten away and had not been taken by someone, not even his own men.
Arthur said, “I think ‘stole’ is a harsh word. Is it your personal yacht, or does your family trust own it?”
“That’s not relevant,” Pierre grumbled, his habitual response to any question he didn’t like.
Arthur continued, “The trust, then. Has Maxence officially given up his inheritance yet?”
Pierre frowned. “No.”
Ah, so Maxence hadn’t formally and legally relinquished his rights to his inheritance, and thus he was a threat to Pierre when Rainier Grimaldi died. Arthur had wondered when Rainier had allowed Maxence to sign those papers, and it appeared he hadn’t. “Perhaps we could ask the Navy to raise The Last Toy on the radio to see if he’s okay?”
As they left Pierre’s apartment,