The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 816

By nine o'clock the whole coast was watching the harbour on its phones, and the Baroness had called the house to breakfast.

Nobody was eating there either.

The Baroness sat at the head with her cane against her chair, Patricia at her right hand in pale silk. Serena sat beside her husband, who was buttering his third piece of toast.

The television on the sideboard showed the docks again. Police tape. Wet cranes. White sheets.

"All of them," the Baroness said flatly. "Victor Russell and every man he had. In one night."

"I heard there were nearly two hundred," Patricia said softly.

The door opened, and Preston came in.

He had changed his shirt and combed his hair, and he did not look at Serena.

"Morning, Gran." He kissed the Baroness's cheek. "I suppose you've seen the news."

"Sit down, Preston."

He sat and buttered a roll slowly, and the whole table waited.

"I told you I'd make a few calls," he said at last. "I made them."

Serena's hand went still on the cloth.

"What calls?" the Baroness asked.

"Friends of mine. From the capital." Preston shrugged, very modestly. "People Victor Russell should have been afraid of. I told them what he'd done to our family at the Grand. I told them he'd threatened my cousin. And I told them a Tiffany doesn't forget."

Patricia put a hand on her heart. "Preston. You didn't."

"I did. I don't like to talk about it."

"You're talking about it now," said Alex, with his mouth full.

Nobody laughed. The Baroness looked down the table at Preston for a long moment, the way she looked at a good account.

"Well," she said. "It seems somebody in this house can still be useful."

Preston smiled into his roll.

Serena breathed in. "Who did you call, Preston?"

"I can't say names, cousin. These are serious people."

"But the man on the television," Alex said helpfully, "said it was a shadow."

Patricia laughed first. Then Preston. Then half the table.

"A shadow." Preston wiped his eyes. "Gran, he believes the television."

"The man with the hood," said the Baroness, "was drunk. Alex. Be quiet, and thank your cousin."

Alex looked up from his toast. "Thank him?"

"He saved your wife's life last night. He saved yours too, though I can't think why he bothered. Stand up and thank him."

Alex put the toast down, stood, and bowed to Preston across the table, low and polite, the way a waiter bows.

"Thank you, Preston, for calling your friends." He straightened up and smiled. "What's their number? I want to thank them too. I could bring them bread."

Preston coughed, reached for his water, and missed the glass.

"It's a private line," he said. "They don't like idiots ringing them."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify