Seduced by the Billionaire: The Complete Collection

by Lee, Nadia

  The light mood vanished from everyone’s face. Gavin steepled his hands. “What did the auditors say?”

  “Nothing concrete yet,” Kerri said carefully. That wasn’t entirely true, but she didn’t want to say anything definite until she was one hundred percent sure.

  “But I thought they said it looked like the missing money was going to Catherine,” Meredith said. She was Ethan and Gavin’s younger sister, and had been overseeing The Lloyds Development during the past few months.

  Kerri shook her head. “That’s hardly sufficient. I want hard facts and numbers before making any accusations.”

  “I don’t know…” Meredith looked uncertain. “From what I’ve heard, forensic accounting isn’t easy.”

  “Have faith,” Gavin said. “I hand-picked the auditors.”

  Kerri nodded. She knew her brother-in-law well enough by now to know that he hired the best or no one at all, which was why she’d been happy when he’d volunteered to select the auditors for the company. “Anyway, the point is that we don’t know if Catherine did it. And until the audit says she did, I don’t want any awkwardness or recriminations in the family.” She took a deep breath. Ethan squeezed her hand and nodded in encouragement. “I’ve invited her to the wedding.”

  Everyone erupted in shock. Ethan’s uncle Tony and his wife Martha, who had both been looking like they were semi-asleep, stared at Kerri like she was crazy. “Why?” Tony asked finally.

  “I grew up in a…tense family environment. I don’t want that in my new family,” Kerri said, willing them to understand. “I don’t want Catherine to be treated shabbily over suspicions when she might well be the victim. I’m sure none of us have forgotten what Jacob did to her. Whatever hurtful things she might have said or done—well, would any of us have been different?”

  Everyone quieted down. “Do you think she’s going to come to the wedding?” Amandine asked.

  “I hope so.”

  “Has she RSVP’d?”

  “Not yet,” Kerri said unhappily. She’d been sure Catherine would see the invitation as an olive branch and accept. But then maybe not. Kerri cringed inwardly, recalling how coldly Ethan had spoken to her. Catherine had provoked him, but still… She’d been in total panic over discovering that her husband was a bigamist and that the family business was doing badly…and that she might get all the blame.

  “Let me reach out to her,” Amandine said.

  On the computer screen, Gavin turned to look at her. “Are you sure, babe?”

  “At the end of the day, I’m her flesh and blood. Let me do it.”

  “Thank you,” Kerri said. If anyone could talk to Catherine, it was Amandine.

  “But what are we going to do if the auditors say she stole from the company?” Tony asked.

  “I think you have to question why she would do that,” Kerri said. “She had access to all the money she could ever want through Jacob, and the embezzlement has been going on for quite a while, based on what I found. A long time before anyone found out about the bigamy.”

  Tony didn’t seem convinced. “We’ve never let anybody get away with stealing from us.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it,” Ethan said. “In the meantime, Kerri and I plan to have a happy, low-stress wedding where everyone—everyone—can enjoy themselves. I hope that all of you are with us on this.” He made eye contact with each person in turn, bringing the force of his personality to bear, and no one said anything to the contrary.

  * * *

  After the call ended, Gavin wrapped his arms around Amandine, pulling her close. “Are you really sure about this? You don’t have to accommodate Kerri just because. I’ll talk to them about it. In fact, I can hire—”

  “I’m sure, Gavin.”

  “But you’ve always felt so weird about the fact that she and I dated.”

  She held his hand and ran her finger along the wedding band. “What’s past is past, but you’re with me now. She’s my cousin, your sister-in-law and our son’s aunt.”

  “Technically, she’s really only the first…”

  “Well, whatever she is, she’s family. Actually I’d love to check up on her and make sure she’s all right. She’s always been so proud and regal, it’s not like her to just…disappear like this. Not even Aunt Olivia knows where she is, and that’s pretty strange.”

  “Okay. If that’s what you want, go for it.”

  “Thank you”—she kissed his knuckles—“for your support.”

  Chapter Five

  The phone next to her bed rang, and Catherine opened her eyes with a frown. She didn’t remember if she’d given the number to anybody. Actually, she couldn’t have; she didn’t know the phone number to the house. She fumbled for the receiver and said, “Hello?”

  “Catherine, my dear. It’s impossible to get a hold of you.”

  “Hello, Salazar.” She stacked pillows behind her and settled against them. The Blue House had a great bed. The one in the master bedroom was like a fairytale princess’s, with a huge ivory lace canopy and cotton sheets with a thread-count so high they felt like silk against her skin. Thankfully the bedroom didn’t have any of Salazar’s cheap paintings. Instead there was a mirror on the wall in a soothing blue-green frame. “What are you doing up so early?”

  “I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d call you. Is that new cell-phone of yours working? I tried calling four times but no one picked up.”

  She sighed. “I don’t have it.” Thanks to that Willie Rae.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a long story. So to what do I owe the honor?”

  “Oh, no special reason. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

  Meaning he wanted a status report on her and his son. “Things are okay. I met Blaine.”

  “So soon?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure I’ll be able to convince him to join the Pryce family. I don’t think he likes me all that much.” It was very unusual for a man to be as standoffish to her as Blaine had been.

  There was a short pause. “You think he’s gay?”

  “No. I’m probably just not his type.”

  Salazar laughed. “You’re every man’s type.”

  She shrugged it off. Her life experience proved the opposite. “Regardless, I’ll do what I can for you. But I don’t know why you can’t come talk to him yourself. That might do wonders to improve your relationship.”

  “It’s complicated. I mainly don’t want Ceinlys to know that I had a baby with another woman until I have to. You know how she can be.”

  “Actually I don’t.”

  “She’ll be hurt, then angry. And then she’ll do something she’ll regret. No need for drama like that in the family, so…” Catherine could almost hear the shrug in his voice.

  It was a universal constant: Salazar liked women. Not even the vows of marriage could stop his bed-hopping. Ceinlys had given him four sons and a daughter, but that hadn’t been enough to change him. Salazar’s having a son with another woman, especially one whose name was as outlandish as Georgia Love, probably wouldn’t go over well. “Fine. But you owe me big time.”

  “Yeah, sure, fine. I told you I owe you, and I don’t go back on my word.”

  “And there’s something else. I lost my credit cards and cash.”

  “No cell phone and now no money? What happened? Did you get mugged?”

  “Again, it’s a long story. In fact, it’s the same long story. Would you send me a bit of cash? I’ll pay you back.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Sebastian was a good friend, and I won’t leave you stranded in a town without any money.”

  “Thanks, Salazar.”

  She hung up and got ready for another day in Cooter’s Bluff. She should call the sheriff and see if there was any update on her purse. Then she’d figure out an angle for dealing with Blaine. The fact that he didn’t seem to like her made things a little more difficult, but all she had to do was find out why he was saying no to Salazar. Then she�
��d have Salazar’s protection and clout on her side to withstand whatever accusations Jacob’s family wanted to throw at her.

  In the kitchen, she opened the fridge and wrinkled her nose. Thanks to Willie Rae, she was stuck with the eminently unsuitable food that Irene had bought. Catherine should’ve gone to the supermarket before stopping by The Line. No low-fat, low-sugar yogurt meant no breakfast. She sighed. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that she had nothing to eat. She’d had some extra calories the night before when she’d had the Stoli Vanil and Diet Coke.

  See, she told herself. You can view this positively.

  The pantry didn’t have any coffee. Neither did the freezer. Catherine sighed again, looking at the top-of-the-line coffeemaker on the counter. What was the point of having a great machine if there was no coffee anywhere in the kitchen? Could anybody in this little town do anything right? So far she’d been confronted with less than ideal housekeeping, a kleptomaniac, a criminal sympathizer in a sheriff’s uniform, and an unfriendly bar owner.

  She settled for a glass of water and glanced at the clock. Should she call Sheriff Earl now? How long could it take to locate a well-known thief? On the other hand, this was a small town, and small town law enforcement might not be as focused as what she’d been used to in Houston. Or maybe they’d just been nicer to her because of who her husband had been. Right now she didn’t have that leverage. She couldn’t tell people her husband was Jacob Lloyd—he wasn’t—and Earl Webber didn’t look like the type she could melt with her charms.

  Why couldn’t he have been younger and eager to please?

  Suddenly the doorbell rang, and she jumped, almost dropping her glass of water. Muttering under her breath, she answered it and blinked at the sight of a pricey private courier in a white and red uniform one size too small. His eyebrows were so bushy, she wasn’t sure how he could see anything through them. Maybe he had X-ray vision like Superman.

  “Catherine Fairchild?” he asked brusquely. She could barely see his mouth under the thick salt-and-pepper mustache.

  “Yes.”

  “Sign here,” he said, shoving a piece of paper her way.

  Could he be any friendlier? “What’s this?” She wasn’t signing anything if she was being served.

  “A package.”

  “Yes, I can see that. From where?”

  He sighed mightily. “California.”

  Was Gavin doing the dirty work? She’d been so sure it’d be Ethan leading the charge. “Sender?”

  “S.P. via Kimberly Sanford.”

  Salazar’s executive assistant. “Okay.” Catherine scrawled her name.

  Huffing, the delivery guy handed her the package and left. She kicked the door closed and felt the weight of the white Tyvek envelope. It was too heavy to be money. Salazar was just eccentric enough to send her a wad of cash rather than using a wiring service, but this would be far too much.

  She located a pair of scissors and ripped the package open. A large manila folder fell out, along with two inch-thick printouts of some sort. What the…?

  The first thing in the folder was a set of color photos of Blaine in Cooter’s Bluff. Given the foreshortening of the street signs and buildings, and excessive blurring of some of the objects, they must’ve been taken from a distance with a powerful lens…the kind of equipment you would expect paparazzi to carry around. She flipped the pages. There was one hand-written sticky note, which she ignored. The rest were densely typed reports on something…probably Blaine, based on the pictures.

  What did Salazar expect her to do with this? Read every single page? She never read, and she didn’t see why she’d need to waste days reading up on Blaine. It wasn’t like the report had anything useful. If it did, Salazar wouldn’t have asked her to go to Cooter’s Bluff.

  She stuffed everything back into the envelope and put it in a kitchen drawer. What would be more helpful was some money. And a way to cancel her cards and get them reissued before Willie Rae figured out the PIN to her ATM card. Catherine needed the money more than Willie Rae. It was expensive to get a husband—mani and pedi, hair, makeup, clothes and shoes. The kind of man she needed didn’t always look beyond the surface. No, the exterior—how she presented herself—was more important than anything else. Not even the Fairchild name would be enough if she didn’t look right.

  Almost ten minutes later, the doorbell rang again, and this time it was Irene. She came bearing a large black plastic bag. Her hair had been teased until her head looked like a giant wad of cotton candy. She wore a big frown, her lips in the shape of an upside down U. “Here,” she said, shoving the bag at Catherine. “Property management told me to give this to you.”

  “Thank you.” Catherine glanced inside. Bundles of cash. Oh Salazar, Salazar.

  Irene licked her lips. “You gonna count that?”

  “Should I?” Catherine asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “I’m just asking. Wouldn’t want to be accused of anything later.”

  Catherine shrugged. “I’m sure nothing’s been touched.” If she guessed right, Salazar had sent at least ten thousand dollars. The man rarely had any sense of proportion when it came to money, but then he’d been born rich and lived in the lap of luxury all his life. The amount in the bag was pocket change.

  She could’ve been like that too, if her father hadn’t made such foolish decisions with money. What had he been thinking, leveraging himself in the stock and commodities markets? The only person she knew who could do that and actually come out ahead was Gavin. Everyone else blew up.

  “So you need anything else?” Irene said.

  Catherine was about to answer when there was another knock on the door. What now? She opened it and saw Sheriff Earl. He was in the exact same uniform he’d been in the night before, with the addition of a pair of sunglasses and a cup of coffee that smelled tantalizingly fresh. Catherine looked at it longingly.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” he said in a booming voice. “Got a minute?”

  “Sure. Come on in.”

  Earl walked inside, but stopped in the foyer.

  “Did you get a chance to see Willie Rae?” she asked.

  “I did, and she says she doesn’t have your purse. Hasn’t seen it and doesn’t know who could’ve taken it.”

  Irene snorted. “What’d you expect her to say? ‘Here ya go, Earl. I had it all along’? Might as well expect a frog to sing gospel.”

  “Now, Irene. It ain’t nice to speak ill of your neighbors.” He turned his attention back to Catherine. “But she did say she found these last night.” He pulled out a clear plastic bag, which contained Catherine’s new phone, keys and Aston Martin fob. “Recognize ’em?”

  “They’re mine!”

  “Well then.” He handed her the items.

  “Where did she say she found them?”

  “On the bar counter.”

  “But that doesn’t make any sense. I always keep my stuff in my purse.”

  “Well, you got ’em back now. And just so you know, I do believe she has your purse.”

  “Then get that back from her as well, please.”

  Earl pursed his mouth, which had the effect of making his moustache bristle. “Well, see, there’s a problem. Nobody saw her leave with your bag.”

  “You said she was the town’s kleptomaniac.”

  “I don’t remember saying that,” Earl said, then turned to Irene. “Do you?”

  Irene cleared her throat. “No. You never said that.”

  Catherine huffed. She wasn’t letting her fate rest in the hands of an incompetent sheriff and even more incompetent housekeeper who’d forgotten to get coffee. “She had my keys and phone. What more proof do you need that she has my bag too?”

  “A lawyer would say that the thief might not have wanted your keys and phone and left them on the counter before taking off with your bag,” Earl said. “Lotsa people have those geo-locator things on their keychain nowadays, and you can always track a phone.”

  “Are you serious? Do you know
how much my car’s worth?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t just barge into her house and start looking for your purse.”

  “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “’Fraid not. But just be patient and you’ll get it back in a few days.”

  “After she spends all my money and treats herself to god only knows what with my credit cards?”

  “Oh she’s never done anything like that. She’s not a bad sort.”

  “Not bad? She’s a thief!”

  Earl’s mouth tightened. “Ma’am, I’m sure you have your way of doing things where you’re from, but out here we try to solve our problems without making too much of a fuss. Just hang on a bit and things will work out.” He tipped his hat at her and walked out to his car. “Have a good day!” he called out before driving off.

  A good day. Right. Catherine slammed the door shut. “This is beyond frustrating.”

  “Well, don’t let it get to you,” Irene said cautiously. “Willie Rae isn’t really a bad person. She’s just a little…odd.”

  “If by ‘odd’ you mean ‘criminal’. Theft is a jailable offense around here, right?” It was the last time I talked to my in-laws.

  “Yeah, but she has her problems and her history. We try to help as much as we can, but really. Willie Rae’s okay.”

  “Why are you defending her to me?”

  “Oh you know. Wouldn’t want you doing anything hasty.”

  “What? You mean like sue her? And Earl…and this entire town?”

  “Uh…” Irene looked surprised. “Well…”

  Shaking her head, Catherine put the fob in her pocket, which ruined the line of her slacks, and grabbed a handful of bills from the black bag. “I’m going out. You?”

  “I guess I am.” Irene cleared her throat and licked her lips. “Seeing as how you don’t have your car here. Drive you somewhere?”

  “To The Line if you don’t mind. My car’s there…unless some saintly thief took that too.”

  * * *

  “Whose car is that?” Dusty said, settling onto a stool at the bar. He made a show of looking at the brunch/lunch menu, but Blaine already knew what he was going to order: a ham sandwich with extra mayo, fries and a tall glass of Coca-Cola Classic.