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Astrid glanced down at her watch as she stepped off the train. Shit. She was going to be late for lunch with Sophie. The morning briefing had taken ages—one of the agents couldn’t get a PowerPoint to project and everyone suffered for it.
She quickened her pace, weaving through commuters and ducking into side streets toward the café. Sophie was only in town for a few hours before flying out for another Leverage job, and Astrid was determined to spend as much time with her mother as possible.
She burst through the café door, brushing windblown hair out of her face.
“Sorry, Mum, I—”
Her next words died on her lips when she spotted Sophie already seated at a table with someone standing over her, her posture rigid and suspicious. The man turned and Astrid’s eyes widened.
“Section Chief Sterling, sir.” She straightened at once, hands neatly folded behind her back.
“Inspector Pickford.” Sterling blinked, eyebrows lifting. “Fancy seeing you here…”
His gaze shifted between her and Sophie. “You weren’t coming to see…?”
“Yes, she’s here for me, Sterling,” Sophie cut in sharply. Her face immediately softened as she looked at Astrid. “Hello, darling.”
Astrid stared between them. “Do you two…know each other?”
“Unfortunately,” Sophie muttered at the same moment Sterling said, “We have a history.”
Astrid’s brain short-circuited. Her two worlds were not supposed to occupy the same physical space, let alone collide. She tried to form a question—any question, but her mouth just opened and closed soundlessly.
“Come sit with me,” Sophie invited, elegantly crossing one leg over the other. “Sterling was just leaving.”
Astrid hesitated, torn between her superior and her mother. This was rapidly becoming one of the strangest afternoons of her life—which was saying something.
After a moment, she slid into the chair across from Sophie. Sterling’s incredulous stare burned into the back of her skull, but she pretended not to notice.
Sterling turned back to Sophie. “Now, why are you having lunch with one of my agents, Devereaux?”
His tone made Astrid want to sink under the table.
Sophie took a sip from her teacup. “I don’t see why that’s any of your business. Don’t you have a promotion to weasel your way into?”
Sterling looked between the two of them again, his eyes narrowing as realization dawned. “Astrid Pickford.”
“Sir?” Her voice was about an octave higher than normal.
“As in—Pickford.” His gaze flicked to Sophie, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Charlotte Prentiss.”
Oh, no.
Sophie rolled her eyes. “Brilliantly worked out, Sterling,” she said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Run along now.”
She paused—then sat up straighter, eyes flashing.
“Astrid, darling,” Sophie said, her voice dangerously sweet. “Tell me you were not part of his entourage.”
Astrid blinked in horror. “His…what?”
“His entourage,” Sophie repeated, glaring at Sterling. “The gaggle of pretty twenty-somethings he drags around to make himself look important.”
Sterling groaned. “It wasn’t an entourage, Devereaux.”
Sophie shot him a vicious smile. “Oh? What would you call it then? A flock? A harem?”
Astrid nearly choked.
“They were agents. Junior agents. I was mentoring them,” he said, straightening his suit coat.
Sophie arched a brow. “By having them trail after you in matching suits and heels? They looked like your next Bond girl audition lineup.”
“Mum,” Astrid hissed, mortified.
Sterling whipped toward her. “Mum?”
Oh, fuck.
Sophie set down her teacup. “Yes, James. As in my stepdaughter. I assumed you’d figured that out already.”
Sterling steadily grew redder in painful increments.
Sophie leaned towards Astrid. “If I find out he recruited you for decorative purposes, I swear—”
“I didn’t!” Sterling finally exploded. “She’s one of Interpol’s best agents!
Astrid wanted the floor to open up and politely consume her.
Sophie leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she watched Sterling unravel.
Sterling managed to calm himself with visible effort before turning to Astrid. “And why was I unaware of your…family relation, Inspector?”
Sophie opened her mouth, but Astrid spoke first. “I didn’t see how it was relevant to my work, sir.”
Sterling stared at her, momentarily speechless. Sophie’s smile deepened with unabashed pride.
“She takes after me, you know,” she said triumphantly and warmth spread through Astrid’s chest despite everything.
“No,” Sterling said tightly. “Because Inspector Pickford doesn’t break the law. Unlike a certain art thief.”
He shot Sophie a loaded look.
“Your mother once spent an entire auction insisting that she hadn’t stolen a priceless painting—when she and Nate Ford had actually stolen two. And then fed me nonsense about the originals in the collection being fakes.”
Sophie threw up her hands. “Ex-art thief! And you’re also conveniently forgetting the bit where they were fake and you got a promotion off our hard work!”
Astrid watched this exchange like she was watching a tennis match, head swiveling between them. She knew Sterling had a long career, but she never expected this.
She finally cleared her throat. “Sir,” she said carefully. “With respect, could we not do this in public? These events sound…classified.”
Both froze, turning to look at her. Sophie looked almost chastised while Sterling nodded curtly.
“You’re absolutely right, Inspector Pickford.” He tapped the table. “I’ll leave you and your mum to your lunch.”
He said “mum” with just enough smugness that Sophie narrowed her eyes.
“Be seeing you,” he said, smirking as he strode out of the café.
Astrid craned her head to look out the door, making sure he was really gone before turning back to Sophie and folding her arms. “You do realise he is my superior?”
Sophie took another sip of surely lukewarm tea. “Mm. I recall. You really weren’t a part of his harem, were you?”
“Mum!” Astrid sputtered. “Absolutely not.”
Sophie smiled. “Good. You’re far too good for him, my darling.”
She opened her menu, effectively ending the conversation. Astrid’s curiosity gnawed at her, but she forced herself to drop it—for now. Instead, her stomach sank as she remembered she had to return to work.
Under one now very aware Section Chief.
She groaned, lowering her head onto her arms. “This is going to be complicated.”
Sophie didn’t miss a beat. “When,” she asked airily, “has anything in your life been simple?”