Working Stiff(129)
“But we’re fine,” Casimir told him, pounding him on the back. “We’re fine, and we’re here now.”
Arthur released them, almost throwing himself backward, and straightened his shirt cuffs under his suit jacket.
Rox stumbled but grabbed a seatback to steady herself.
“Jackasses,” Arthur muttered.
Casimir reached over the seats, extending his hand to Maxence, who stood and calmly shook his hand.
Maxence said, his voice low and cultured, “I’m very pleased to see you.”
“And you. Thank you for the use of your men.”
Maxence waved it off. “I was gratified to hear that they had secured you and that you were en route to the plane.”
Arthur edged past them and walked up to the front of the airplane, leaning into the cockpit. He told the pilot, “Get us out of here.”
The engines whined, winding up.
Rox found a seat and stowed her purse that held, as far as she knew, everything that remained of all her possessions in the world. Her other possessions were supposed to be in storage, moved there by the property company that owned her apartment building, but she hadn’t been able to take that key and look, yet. Everything that she had taken with her had probably burned up or been soaked in the fire at Casimir’s house.
Three more security men climbed the ramp, each holding one of her cats. They held the beasts securely, one arm around their bellies and the other hand grabbing the scruffs of their necks. The cats looked terrified and simultaneously insulted at the indignity. Pirate was on the verge of snarling.
A flight attendant swung the door closed with a thunk and spun the ship’s wheel to secure it.
The three security men lowered the cats to the floor, releasing them.
All three cats swarmed Rox, piling onto her lap and shoulders and purring hard.
VAN ORANJE-NASSAU VAN AMSBERG
Casimir lowered himself into the seat beside Rox, stretching his legs under the table and under the chair across from him until his ankles touched the bottom of it.
Not enough leg room, as always.
No wonder Maxence and Arthur had claimed the couch in back with the television where they could stretch out.
He commandeered Pirate from Rox, dragging the huge ginger cat onto his own lap and petting the beast’s broken ears. The stumps felt crispy along the edges, and Casimir was careful to be very gentle as he sank his fingers into the cat’s deep fur.
Well, this had to be done. “Can we talk after we change planes in London? We’ll be alone at that point, or at least Arthur and Maxence won’t be around.”
“No,” Rox said, her sweet brown eyes stretched wide with anger. “We need to talk now. I feel like I don’t even know you.”
“You know me,” he said quietly. “You know me better than anyone else in the world. I’ve never lied to you.”
She rolled her big, brown eyes and scoffed, “You need to talk to Maxence about sins of omission.”
He nodded and stroked Pirate, who was crouching on his lap. He had known exactly what he had omitted all these years. Time to make reparations. “Ask me anything.”
Rox had a beautiful, heart-shaped face, even when her little jaw was grinding her teeth in anger. She asked, “What’s your real name?”
“Casimir Friso van Amsberg.”
“Really?”
He bit his lip. “My baptismal name is Casimir Friso David Constantijn Christof, and my surnames are theoretically van Oranje-Nassau van Amsberg, but that almost never comes up.”
“David?”
“As is traditional, I’m named after my four godfathers.”
“Holy cow. That sounds like Dumbledore. He had ‘Brian’ in the middle of a whole bunch of weird names.”
He nodded, staring at the cat in his lap. Rox had pressed him to read the Harry Potter books years ago, and he had read all seven of them. He liked her fun, fanciful taste in books. “I suppose it’s incongruous.”
“What country are you really from? Are you British?”
He glanced at her, watching to see if she thought that. “I am Dutch. I haven’t ever lied to you.”
“And yet you have a longer name than anyone I’ve ever met, and I didn’t know half of it.”
He bit his lip. “Van Amsberg is the name of my great-grandfather, who was German. I told you about him.”
Rox waited, stroking the cats in her lap. Speedbump buried his face under her arm.
He finished, “And Oranje-Nassau is the name of my House.”
“House,” she said.
“Like the House of Windsor or Romanov or Hannover.”
“So you’re not House Hufflepuff.”
A smile lifted one side of his mouth. “Nothing wrong with Hufflepuff. They’re loyal. There’s a lot to be said for loyalty.”