The British Billionaire Bachelor, Act Three (23 page)

“Works for me. Let’s get the fuck out of here. We’ve got too much to do before the big night.”

Joseph saw the two men march away down the alley, waited until he was sure they were gone, then slowly stood up and stepped back into Badir’s store. As much as he’d been ready for the wrestle, he was glad it hadn’t happened. The information he’d garnered was far more reliable than anything he may have extricated from a man under duress.

“Badir, thanks. You were of tremendous help,” Joseph smiled, shaking his hand.

“You are most welcome. Anything for Mr. Sinclair, anything at all. This was easier than the last time.”

“The last time?” Joseph asked.

“Oh, dear, you don’t know. I have said too much, my apologies. I’m sure Mr. Sinclair will tell you all about it if you ask him.”

Badir looked uncomfortable, and Joseph smiled reassuringly.

“Don’t worry. I won’t say anything, and if I do I’ll be discreet.”

“The excitement of the moment…”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to worry, and again, thank you,” Joseph said.

After peering through the windows to make sure the men weren’t still lurking, with a hastened step he headed home, and as he turned the block his eyes scanned ahead; the van was gone. Feeling the relief he quickened his step, eager to give Simon the news, and once safely inside the house he walked straight into Simon’s study and called him.

“This is good news, and interesting, though the blackmail part doesn’t surprise me,” Simon remarked. “I wonder what they mean by the big night?”

“My sentiments exactly,” Joseph replied.

“At least we know you won’t be tailed anymore. Lucinda can come back, and I’m going to forge ahead. Whatever this big night is, I just hope it happens after I’m done with him. I’m going to push forward, put the pressure on, see if I can get this wrapped up before Friday.”

“Let me know what else I can do,” Joseph offered.

“You’ve been extraordinary, Joseph. I knew you were the right man for the job, but you’ve exceeded all expectations.”

“Uh, thank you,” Joseph replied, somewhat embarrassed.

“Take the praise,” Simon smiled, appreciating the modesty
.

“I’ll call Lucinda and let her know she can come back here,” Joseph said, needing to change the subject.

“Do me a favor, when you talk to her, ask her to tell Belle I’ll be in touch in a little while. I have some urgent calls to make.”

“You bet,” Joseph replied.

While Joseph had been hiding behind the boxes in the alley, Belle had been giving Lucinda the grand tour of the penthouse at City View. The young actress was first stunned by the stature of the building, then stunned by the views, and stunned again by the glass enclosed viewing deck and enormous telescope.

“This is where Simon proposed,” Belle told her, “the happiest night of my life. He had a dessert made in the shape of Saturn, and the ring was inside. He said it was because of the planet’s eternal rings, but of course he put it in a much more eloquent way than that.”

“I think that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Lucinda sighed. “It should be in a movie.”

Lucinda walked to the window and stared out at the grey city below.

“It’s like a painting,” she remarked, then turning around, looked across at Belle standing by the telescope. “Can I talk to you about what I did?”

“You mean, breaking into my room?” Belle asked, wondering if she would admit her other, terrible crime.

“No, I mean, reading your diaries. I know you know, I just don’t know how you know, or how I know you know. That came out weird, but-”

“I understand,” Belle interrupted. “Sometimes we just know things. I think that’s a talent we were both blessed with.”

“You must be furious,” Lucinda murmured.

“Yes, I am,” Belle replied. “It’s inexcusable.”

“You’re right, but, the thing is,” Lucinda tentatively began, “the thing is, when I read how much you hated me-”

“I don’t hate you,” Belle snapped. “I hate the things you do sometimes.”

“Sorry,” Lucinda muttered. “Please, can I finish? I really need to say this.”

“Fine, go ahead,” Belle replied, wishing she didn’t feel so impatient.
Remember what Simon said. Listen, don’t react.

“The thing is, when I read what you wrote, I felt really embarrassed,” she confessed. “I know I’m difficult sometimes, and I don’t know why I’m so short-tempered, but I’m going to be better, I swear, and Joseph has promised to help me.”

“That’s good to hear,” Belle replied.

“I’m sorry about all that stuff that happened when we lived here, about mom being with me all the time I mean. I didn’t want to do all that stuff.”

“What do you mean?” Belle asked, finding Lucinda’s comment confusing.

“All those auditions and performances and everything. I met these really cool kids at school and I never got to be with them because I was always at some stupid audition or meeting agents or something.”

“I thought you loved all that?”

“What? No, I mean, I like my job, I really enjoy performing and acting, but not every minute of every day. It never stopped, and mom insisted I sing at the parties at the Embassy. God I hated it.”

“You’re kidding?” Belle remarked, shocked at the revelation.

“It wasn’t much fun, Belle. She never let me be by myself. Even when I came out to L.A. she wanted me to have a babysitter. For craps sake, I was over 21 and she still wanted to hold my hand. Ooooh, my blood boils just thinking about it. It’s such a relief to be away from her, you have no idea. I feel as if I’ve been suffocating my entire life. When I told her I was coming over here for two weeks, all she could talk about was making sure you were here to look after me. Look after me? Seriously?”

“My God, Lucinda, I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well, now you do, but my point is, I’m really sorry about everything, and I’m going to be calmer, and less crazy, and all that stuff.”

Belle stared at her beautiful little sister, realizing Lucinda had been as much a victim of their controlling mother as she had been, perhaps even more. Moving quickly across to her, Belle hugged her tightly, unable to recall the last time she’d done such a thing.

“Poor Lucinda,” she muttered, fighting the wave of emotion washing over her.

“I’ve always thought you were amazing,” Lucinda sniffled. “I’ve always been jealous of you.”

“Jealous of me?” Belle exclaimed, pulling back and staring at her. “Why? You’re gorgeous, and talented, and now you’re famous. Why on earth would you be jealous of me?”

“Because you were free,” Lucinda replied, her voice cracking, “and so smart about everything.”

Belle was about to hug her again when Lucinda’s phone chimed.

“It’s Joseph,” she declared.

As Lucinda answered the call, Belle watched her sister’s face light up; whatever the news, it was good, and when she ended the call, her smattering of tears had transformed into a broad grin.

“Everything’s good. Joseph didn’t even have to tackle the guy. There were two of them, and he was able to overhear what they said, and I can go back to the house.”

“That’s fantastic, Lucinda,” Belle grinned. “Did he say what it was he overheard?”

“No, he told me he’d give me all the details when I got home.”

“That is really fabulous news. I guess we don’t need Ian’s guys here now. You can go back with them.”

“Yep, that’s what Joseph said. He’s letting Ian know, and I guess Ian will let them know. He said to meet them in the foyer.”

“Then let’s get your bag and go.”

“Belle, do you forgive me, about your diaries I mean?” Lucinda asked, her eyes wide.

“I forgive you, but if you pull a stunt like that again, you’re in big trouble,” Belle warned.

“I won’t, but I’m glad I did,” she admitted.

“I am too,” Belle agreed.

B
randon Witherspoon was sitting at his local pub drinking a much needed pint, when a familiar voice spoke softly behind him. Swiveling on his barstool, he found himself looking at a smiling, Cordelia Cartwright.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, shocked to see her.

“It must be fate,” she smiled. “I’ve never been in here before, and I had such a harrowing day at work I decided to stop in for a drink.”

“But, your office-

“I was with one of the agents showing a house nearby,” she interrupted. “We were there forever. I couldn’t handle the journey home without something to sustain me.”

“Isn’t this my lucky night,” he grinned. “What would you like to drink?”

“Pimms and lemonade, please.”

“Why don’t you grab a table? I’ll be right there.”

He watched her turn and head to one of the empty tables by the window, and as he ordered the drink, he shook his head at his good fortune.

He’d located the property and Darren had been ecstatic. Not only had he slapped Brandon on the shoulder and told him how brilliant he was, he’d handed him ten quid and told him to grab a pint. To turn around and find Cordelia standing behind him was almost too good to be true.

“So, Cordelia, anything new and exciting,” he asked, sitting down opposite the pretty brunette and handing her the drink.

“There is,” she replied enthusiastically. “Not sure I should talk about it though.”

“Why is that?” he asked, his radar beeping.

“I guess it doesn’t matter. I mean, it will all be over by tomorrow, and it’s not like you’re going to tell anyone,” she giggled. “I mean, do you know someone with twelve million…make that more than twelve million…who can swoop in and steal a deal?”

“Not this week,” he chuckled, his pulse quickening, “but I’d love to know what’s going on.”

“It’s the Sinclair thing,” she whispered, leaning across the table. “He’s transferring all that money into an account tomorrow afternoon. The office was crazy all day preparing all the documents. Tyler himself will be taking them over to Sinclair’s office to sign.”

“Why is he moving so fast?” Brandon asked, trying to sound casually interested.

“I have no idea. Maybe someone else has been sniffing around and he wants to make sure he doesn’t lose it,” she suggested.

“Would you excuse me for a second,” Brandon smiled, rising from the table, “nature calls, and I think I’d like some crisps. Do you want anything else?”

“Sure, maybe a sandwich to tide me over until I get home,” she smiled.

“I’ll find you something,” he replied.

Walking briskly towards the men’s room, pulling out his phone on the way, he speed dialed Darren’s direct line; his boss was going to have a complete cow.

“FUCK!”

“At least we know, and it’s just by a stroke of luck,” Brandon said quickly. “Can you make it happen before tomorrow afternoon?”

“I haven’t even had a chance to check out the properties around it, find out their value, do any kind of due diligence,” Darren complained.

“Do you even need to?” Brandon asked. “I mean, if you’re just going to flip it to Sinclair, does it matter?”

“I’ll ring you if I need you,” Darren barked, and ended the call.

In a small town, a few hours outside London, a semiretired country gentleman, Oliver Whitney-Jones, was about to close up shop for the day. He led a calm, peaceful life in rural England and handled most of the local real estate needs.

When higher-end farms or historical properties came on the market, they were generally handled by larger firms in the city, so when a very polite, bespectacled and warm man had stepped into his humble office and asked him to handle the sale of a property that was many thousands of acres of land, the price to be listed at eight million pounds, Oliver was astounded.

“I’m extremely flattered,” Oliver had stammered, “but don’t you want a, well, larger, better known firm?”

“My employer wants someone local, someone who knows this area, someone who isn’t bogged down with too many other deals and can give this personal attention,” the man had explained. “My employer has reason to believe a buyer will be making an extremely generous offer, but it will require expeditious handling. The land is held by a company,” the man continued, opening his briefcase and removing a file, “and here is all the paperwork you will need. When an offer is made, all you will have to do is fill in the blanks. I would suggest you read it through, and if you have any questions just call the law office that drew up the contract. You will find all their contact information in the file.”

“Ah, we have our own forms,” Oliver had replied.

“Not for this deal,” the man had smiled, “but if that’s a problem for you…”

“No, no, I’ll read it through. I have a solicitor who can check things as well.”

“My employer is insistent that you do,” the man had said.

“And you are, Sir?”

“I am the personal assistant to the man who owns the company, who owns the land, and as such, I too, must keep my identity confidential, but you can call me Mr. Smith if you wish.”

“I’m…uh…this is all highly irregular,” Oliver had frowned.

“You will find the law firm who will be handling the transaction to be one of the most respected in London. Thomas Digby of Digby and Jones is handling this personally. I am simply an errand boy,” he smiled. “Mr. Digby will be able to answer any further questions you or your lawyer may have. So what do you say, Sir, will you handle the property for my client?”

“As long as my lawyer says this paperwork is in order, I’d be delighted,” Oliver had replied.

. “If the sale goes through, and my employer is pleased with your service, you will receive a fifty-thousand pound bonus in addition to your commission. In the file you will also find a confidentiality agreement. That must be signed before we can move forward.”

“No problem, I understand how celebrities and such like their names kept out of things,” he nodded.

“Good. You do have scan/email capabilities?”

“Oh, yes, I was forced into it. My son helped me, but I can do all of that sort of thing now.”

“Excellent. Let Thomas Digby know when you’ve reviewed the documents and are comfortable taking on the property. We will need your answer within hours.”