The Billionaire's Con (13 page)

She blanched. “I don’t want anything to do with their money. Tell them I’ll sign whatever they want. I’ll promise not to ever ask them for a thing.”

His brows rose, but he shook his head. “Mrs. A. isn’t going to let the matter drop. She’ll be all over you—and that letter—before the week is out.”

“I’m burning it the minute I get home.”

That gave him pause, and the perpetual grin slipped from his face. “Don’t do that, Meggy. Mrs. A. is a tough old bird. She’s had to be. But she’s a human being, and deep down she has a soft heart.” His sentiment echoed Trevor’s description of his grandmother the night of their first date. “She’s lost or buried everyone she’s ever cared about with very few exceptions. Trevor being the most notable. That letter is a link to her granddaughter. Are you really willing to take that away?”

Her silence was answer enough.

He nodded. “Besides…” The smile returned. “Trevor would be pissed if you destroyed it.”

“You think?” She offered her sweetest smile. “You almost had me convinced not to burn it. Now, I’m going to have to give it some more thought.”

Brody threw back his head and laughed. “You’re a bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you?”

She smiled, a simple baring of her teeth.

“Poor Trevor.”

For several moments, she was silent. “What exactly did he hope to achieve by showing up in Palmerton and pretending to be someone he isn’t?”

“That’s two.” Brody held up two cigar-shaped fingers.

“Two?”

“Questions. I thought you didn’t have any.”

She decided it wouldn’t take much to learn to hate this man. “You’re right.” She sniffed and turned to study a brightly painted lighthouse on a cliff in the distance. “Forget I asked.”

His long sigh was full of regret and apology in one. “Look, Meggy. I work for Trevor, but he’s also a friend. He has a reason for everything he does. If you want to know what those reasons are, you have to ask him.”

She didn’t say another word, not even “thank you” when he delivered her to Palmer House two hours later.

****

“I’ll kill him! I want directions to that farm, Meggy.” Cara paced the hardwood floor in Shan’s kitchen. “Never mind. Martha’s Vineyard isn’t that big, I’ll find it myself. You can drive me, Erin. I’m liable to run him down the moment I see him.”

Erin smiled wryly at her sister. “We can’t have that. I’m not sure how Finn would feel about conjugal visits with you doing time.”

“You’re not helping, ladies.” Shan popped the cork from a bottle of wine.

“Says who?” Three identical green gazes turned on Meggy. She shrugged. “Picturing Trevor Bryce—make that Trevor Christos—with his body broken and bloody sure makes
me
feel better.”

The O’Shea sisters had reacted to this morning’s revelations with varying degrees of disbelief and outrage. Though she’d tried, she couldn’t seem to settle on one emotion. She felt like she was suffering from a raging case of PMS. Since she’d spotted the Ashford housekeeper and realized the last few weeks had been nothing but an elaborate ruse, she’d been catapulted back and forth between red hot fury and the uncontrollable urge to weep, with a healthy dose of fear thrown in for good measure. She was doing her best to stay focused on the fury.

“I can’t believe it.” Shan pulled glasses from a cabinet, pouring wine into the crystal. “He sat in the bar every night and talked to me. He asked me all kinds of questions about you. About when we were growing up. I thought he was infatuated. I even thought it was kind of sweet.” She sipped and waved her glass toward Meggy. “I can’t believe the jerk was pumping me for information all along.”

“I can’t believe any of it. I know he lied about who he was, Meggy.” Erin’s eyes filled with helpless apology. “But a man doesn’t look at a woman the way Trevor looks at you if he doesn’t have feelings. I can’t believe it was all just pretense.”

“Well, believe it,” Meggy said sharply. She reached for the wine bottle on the table and topped off Shan’s glass, then refilled Erin’s. Cara had said she was too upset to drink. She emptied the remainder of the bottle into her own glass. “According to Brody, Trevor is Elizabeth Ashford’s golden boy. He’d do anything for her. When I showed up at the farm, she sent him to find out everything he could about me.”

“
She
sent him?” Cara paused in her pacing.

Meggy shrugged. “She sent him...he came himself. What difference does it make? They recognized me and decided on a preemptive strike before I tried to cash in on their empire.”

She’d learned that much when to her surprise, Finn had recognized the Ashford bodyguard the moment they’d pulled into the driveway. It always surprised her how small the world really was. The world of pro football was even smaller. As an ex-strong-safety for the New England Patriots, Brody hadn’t exactly been a friend, but he’d rubbed shoulder pads with Finn, back when they’d both played in the NFL.

To her disgust, they’d shared a gridiron reunion, right there in her driveway. She’d flung the trench coat at the annoying bodyguard and stomped off in fury. Though Brody hadn’t answered
all
of Finn’s questions, he’d been happy to share what he could.

According to Brody, Meggy was the spitting image of her grandmother, Elizabeth Ashford’s daughter, Anne. When she’d shown up at the farm several weeks ago, Elizabeth caught a glimpse of her. She’d given Trevor three weeks to find out what he could about her, and today had been the deadline.

“But why not just introduce himself and explain the situation?” Confusion wrinkled Shan's brow. “Why the subterfuge?”

“That’s the billion dollar question,” Meggy said bitterly. “Or
close
to a billion, if Brody can be believed.”

“I vote we all go down to the carriage house and take a machete to his Armanis.” At the three blank stares turned her way, Cara crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her shoulders. “But that’s just me.”

Meggy loved Cara’s deep loyalty. “As tempting as that sounds, I think we’d better just pack up his stuff and have it delivered to the farm.” She glanced around at her three closest friends, at her two partners. “Losing the rent on the carriage house is going to cut into our capital. I’ll wave my paycheck until Jill can find us a new tenant.”

“I don’t think so,” Cara growled. Shan shook her head.

“He only took the carriage house to get at me.” Her trashed heart’s shards were so sharp she could hardly breathe.

“And he signed a six-month lease,” Cara reminded her. “It’ll be a pleasure to sue him if he tries to break it.”

She understood Cara’s hostile anticipation of a little payback, but admitted, “I’d just assume we let the bastard break it.” She paused. “But that’s just me.”

No one laughed at her attempt at humor.

Ever the voice of reason, Shan leaned on her elbows to say, “The lease aside, you said Brody believed they wouldn’t let the identity issue drop. Trevor will be back, Meggy. And he won’t be constrained by his guise as a charming writer this time. You’ll be dealing with the billionaire’s grandson. You need an attorney.”

“I’ll call mine.” Cara took the last open chair at the table. “He’s been known to eat small corporations for breakfast. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled at the chance to take a big bite out of the Ashford pie.”

“And I’ll be permanently trapped in the Ashford crosshairs.” Meggy shook her head. “No thanks. Call your lawyer, Cara. Shan’s right, I’m going to need one, but only to draw up whatever papers are necessary to wave any and all connection to that family. Brody said they’ll want Rachel Hadley’s letter. They can have it, if they promise to leave me alone.”

Chapter Sixteen

“You may want to get down here,” Shan said the moment Meggy picked up the call on her cell phone.

“Why?”

“Look out the window.”

Meggy scrambled to the tiny dormer window beside her bed. Early morning sunlight stabbed at her eyes, and she groaned at the sight of a black Mercedes and a silver Bentley parked at the end of the path leading to the carriage house. As she watched, Trevor stepped out of the Mercedes. He waved off Brody to help Elizabeth Ashford alight from the Bentley himself. With a hand on her elbow, he led her toward the main house. “Tell them I’m not here.”

“I could do that, but even if Trevor believed me, which he won’t, they’ll be back, Meggy. And they’re on
your
turf now. I’m here, and Cara and Erin can be here in two minutes. Wouldn’t you rather face them and get it over with?”

She rolled her neck and shoulders and winced at the hot stab of pain flaring through her tensed muscles. The last twenty-four hours had only intensified the righteous anger that had kept her company throughout the long, sleepless night. Exhausted, her eyes scraped against her lids like high-grade sandpaper with every blink, but not from crying. A man willing to go to such extremes for his own selfish purposes wasn’t worth a single tear, and she counted it a small victory that so far, she’d managed to defeat the tidal wave of grief threatening to drown her.

Embarrassment and fury gushed through her like a geyser as she watched Trevor and Elizabeth disappear beneath the portico’s eve. Shan was right. The sooner she got the inevitable confrontation over with, the sooner she could put the entire sordid episode behind her and get on with her life. Why that thought would cause her airway to constrict, she refused to consider.

She attempted to jump-start her lungs with a breathy growl. “I hate it when you play the logic card.”

Shan’s laughter came through the phone. “They’re at the door. What do you want me to do? Shall I hide behind the bar like a five-year-old, or do you want me to call my sisters?”

“Neither.” She headed for the stairs. “I’m on my way down. And don’t call your sisters. Cara is so mad she’s libel to show up with that machete.”

She pushed open the door from the kitchen, entering the dining room just as Elizabeth Ashford sank into an upholstered sofa in the lounge, guided gently by Trevor’s hand on her elbow. Seeing him caused a spike of pain to slip past her anger. She swallowed and forced herself to cross the room.

Three gazes turned at the sound of her heels on the hardwood floor.

Shan shot her a sympathetic smile from the bar.

Elizabeth sat forward on the sofa, clutching a leather binder in her lap.

Trevor stood beside the sofa, his pale gaze passing over her from head to toe in a slow inspection.

The familiar once-over left her seething. He looked confident and comfortable, standing with his hands tucked into the pockets of his black dress slacks. Only the stormy gray of his eyes indicated he considered this meeting more than just a casual gathering.

The sight of the overnight bag she’d left on board his boat, sitting at his feet, made her stomach cramp.

“I figured you’d refuse to see us—”

“And I would have, but someone convinced me this meeting was inevitable.” She gave Shan a tight smile. “I decided to get it over and done with.”

Trevor didn’t respond. He looked to Shan where she stood with a hip leaning on a barstool. “Do we have you to thank for not having the door slammed in our faces?”

Shan shrugged, her gaze narrowed. “I didn’t do it for you.”

“I didn’t think you had. I’m grateful just the same.” He turned and held out a hand. “Will you sit?”

She had to move closer to him to enter the seating area and when she did, his voice dropped to a low rumble that only she could hear. “I’m sorry, fairy girl. So sorry.”

She stiffened and turned from the entreaty in his eyes. Holding up the envelope containing Rachel’s letter, she met the excitement in Elizabeth’s. “I assume you’re here for this. You can have it,
if
you promise never to do anything to harm me or my business. That includes my family and friends.”

“Jesus, Meggy.”

She continued to ignore him as if he weren’t there. “My lawyer is drawing up documents denying any rights I might have to the Ashford millions. You can have your attorneys go over them to make sure I haven’t slipped in any sneaky loopholes.” She swept Trevor with a disdainful look. “When that’s done, Rachel’s letter will be delivered to you with your copies of the signed documents. I never want to see it again.”

“Of all the stubborn...”

“Trevor,” Elizabeth interrupted sharply without looking his way. “Why is it you assume we would do something to harm you, Megan?”

Her gaze flicked to Trevor. He didn’t look calm or confident now. He looked frustrated and furious. She met Elizabeth’s waiting gaze with a fierce one of her own. “Oh, I don’t know.” Sarcasm dripped from her every word. “Maybe because your first instinct on seeing me was to believe I was there to screw you somehow?”

“My first instinct,” Elizabeth corrected, “was that you were my great-granddaughter.” She opened the leather binder and pulled out a glossy photo. Her hand shook as she extended it. “Go ahead. Look at it.”

Shan pushed away from the bar, stepping around the couch to look over Meggy’s shoulder when she took the photo. “Wow.”

She refrained from verbally echoing the sentiment, but she wholeheartedly agreed. The woman smiling back from the aged photograph could have been her twin. If she didn’t know better, she would swear the photo was one of herself, taken without her knowledge.