by Laura Burton
But truth be told, Anita was convenient. She had great connections, knew how to work a room in any social setting, and the sex was good.
He’d thought that was enough for both of them. Mutual convenience. He’d thought they were on the same page.
But lately it was becoming increasingly obvious that Anita was several chapters ahead.
This business trip was something of a blessing in disguise, as it turned out.
He’d keep contact with her to a bare minimum and by the time he got back, he was sure some other billionaire would have caught her attention.
A flash overhead drew Conor’s attention, and he saw the fasten seatbelt sign come on.
He moved his laptop and papers to the seat beside him and clipped his belt together then turned his head to look out the window again.
There it was.
The evening sun glinted off the window, but he could still make out the distinguishable green of the west coast of Ireland sprawled below him.
As they got closer to Shannon Airport, he knew he’d see more buildings and cars.
But from up here, still over the Atlantic, it looked like a painting below him.
Conor couldn’t wait to disembark and stretch his legs.
A private jet afforded a lot more leg room than a commercial one, but still – seven hours on a plane was long enough. Especially when one was over six feet tall.
And when he got to Shannon, he still had a couple of hours in a car until he got to Dunkilly Castle, the crumbling pile of bricks he’d just acquired.
Conor reached back and squeezed his neck, trying to relieve some of the tension in it.
He hoped that by the time he’d landed his lawyers in Dublin would have fixed the problem of the property on the seafront.
He’d instructed them to offer the owner whatever it took to get rid of her so he could bulldoze the thing and break ground on his villas before Fall. He knew enough of Irish weather to know that he needed to make hay while the sun shone. Because it didn’t shine often in Dunkilly.
Keeping his eyes on the window as the plane began its descent, Conor watched as buildings and cars came into view.
By his reckoning, it should take a couple of days at most to survey the property, meet with the lawyers, architect, and construction team, and get the ball rolling on this project.
When he’d left New York, he’d instructed his personal assistant to get him a room close by for three nights.
It shouldn’t take longer than that to sign off on the development.
In fact, it couldn’t take longer than that. His schedule didn’t allow for longer.
Within an hour he was through customs and in the rental his assistant had organised for him.
A quick stop for fuel for the car, but more importantly for himself, and he was on the road.
Coffee from a service station wasn’t exactly gourmet, but he only needed it to keep him awake until he reached his hotel.
He drove non-stop for two hours before finally hitting the nearest town to Dunkilly.
There were no hotels near the castle, which was precisely why he was building one, so the large town around twenty minutes out was the best his PA could do.
Pulling into the car park, he grabbed his small case and walked inside.
It wasn’t exactly five-star luxury, he thought as he hurried inside, but it looked clean and pretty decent, and that was enough for him.
Walking across the lobby, he’d gotten at least five hellos before he even reached the front desk.
They were a friendly bunch, the Irish. And he fully intended to cash in on that.
He’d hire locals to work in and manage the hotel, Conor had explained to his brothers when they’d had their last board meeting. Callie hadn’t bothered showing up, as usual.
And he’d already scheduled meetings with local tour groups to partner with them to offer exclusive, luxury tour options for their discerning guests.
The West Coast of Ireland was a goldmine for tourism.
But it was something of a saturated market.
That’s why he’d jumped at the chance to buy Dunkilly Castle when his property department had stumbled on it.
One quick look at the information they’d sent his way had confirmed it for him. It was a property gem. A castle for the history buffs on the famed Wild Atlantic Way with its rugged coastline and rocky beaches.
The local village had potential, too.
Art and souvenir shops. Traditional Irish pubs with the music that tourists lapped up.
It would be one of their better investments; he was sure of it.
And when Caleb had rightly pointed out that the travel industry was pretty much decimated in the current climate, Conor had waved off his concerns.
His brother was a genius with numbers. But with that came a risk aversion that could hold him back if the others didn’t force him to take the occasional leap of faith.
“It is right now,” he’d told his brother. “But it won’t be a couple of years from now. Trust me.”
And they did.
As CEO of The King Corporation, and the eldest brother to boot, the others tended to defer to his judgment. It helped that he had an almost legendary business acumen. He wasn’t sure where he’d gotten it – he just had good instincts.
Instincts that had taken his grandfather’s company from modestly successful to a billion-dollar corporation in less than ten years.
The pretty girl behind the desk looked up from her computer to beckon him forward.
He saw the slight widening of her eyes as they quickly raked him head to toe but ignored it in favour of getting to his room quicker. Usually he wouldn’t mind a quick, harmless flirtation, but he was wiped out and he had a lot to get done here in a pretty short space of time.
Maybe it made him arrogant, but he knew he had a certain effect on women. All of the men in his family did.
Maybe Callie did with men, too, but he’d prefer not to think like that about his baby sister.
The receptionist made short work of his check in, handing him his key card and getting his signature within only minutes.
“Are you here for business or pleasure, Mr. King?” she asked pleasantly, a blatant invitation in her eyes.
“Business,” Conor answered firmly. “Three days of boring business. No time for anything else.”
He hoped she got the message as he thanked her and headed for the elevators.
He’d meant what he said. Three days of business meetings, and he was out of there.
A couple of dinners, a few handshakes, some papers signed, and that would be his part wrapped up for at least a year.
Conor prided himself on being able to get things done quickly and efficiently.
This would be no different.
Chapter 3
“What about a human barrier? We could link arms and refuse to let them past us.”
“It would depend on when it was. I’ve bingo on Friday.”
“And Wednesdays are no good for me because my Laura works late, and I’ve the kids till after dinner.”
“Would it be night-time or day-time, now? Because if it goes on for long, I’d have the kids to collect from school and their clubs.”
Jenna bit back a sigh as she listened to the conversation going on around her.
Nobody could deny that the people of Dunkilly wanted to help her. But she couldn’t take on a Goliath like The King Corporation with promises of protests as long as they didn’t clash with bingo or school pick-up times.”
She looked over at her gran, and her heart tightened painfully.
Gran was putting on a brave face, but Jenna knew how worried she was about having to leave her beloved cottage.
And, as had been happening since she found out yesterday morning, every time she thought of that bloody letter with its talk of selling the cottage and turning Dunkilly Castle into one of those awful resorts, her temper flared until her blood felt like it was bubbling inside her.
Gran should be enjoying her later years. Not worrying about some American corporate machine swooping in and destroying her home.
“Alright, alright. Let’s all just take a few minutes here. Have a cup of tea. We can get back to it afterwards when we’re all rejuvenated.”
Jenna smiled in relief as her father tactfully ended the conversation that was growing steadily more ridiculous.
Honestly, Jenna loved the people of Dunkilly like they were her own family but when talk turned to using sheep to replace the people who had bingo, it was time to end it.
Gran immediately jumped up and started handing out cups of tea and plates of baked goods, and Jenna sidled over to her father, who was looking over the information she’d gathered on this King family.
“Thanks again for coming down, Dad,” she said, holding out a cup of tea. “What do you think?”
Jenna had called her parents the same evening that Gran had told her about the offer on the cottage.
Her parents were as horrified as she was. Especially Dad, who’d grown up in that cottage.
He’d made immediate plans to travel down and help. And given that he was a college lecturer who specialised in corporate law, Jenna figured he was her best chance at fighting this.
Her mum would have been a great asset, too. But as partner in her own Dublin firm, she didn’t have the time to come down to Dunkilly. Dad still had a few weeks left of his summer break.
More importantly, he had a colleague whose speciality was environmental law, who had agreed to help out, too.
“I think you were right, Jen,” her dad said, still frowning at the file in his hands.
She placed the cup on the table, since he was too immersed in the file to take it.
“It’s an incredibly generous offer. The cottage isn’t worth what they’re willing to spend.”
He sighed and finally dropped the file on the table, looking at her with bleak eyes the exact shade of blue as her own.
“This King Corporation. They know what they’re doing, and their reach is – incredible. It’s worth billions, and they have billions to spend. I’m not sure this is a fight you can win.”
Jenna swallowed a lump in her throat.
She’d thought the same herself.
Which was why she’d spent the last two sleepless nights pouring over everything she could find on this company and the people who ran it.
It was as her father had said though, they had money to spend and their offer was bordering on obscene.
“What about the castle, though?” she asked, hearing the desperation in her voice. “What about your friend? Does he have any ideas?”
“Martin,” Dad answered with a sigh. “He’s joining us tomorrow but honestly, without the cooperation of the office of public works or the county council, I don’t know what we can do.”
Jenna hated the despondency in her dad’s tone. It made her scared. Scared that she wasn’t going to be able to stop these King people and protect her precious castle.
“How’s it going over here?”
Jenna turned at the sound of Gran’s voice behind them and immediately plastered a smile onto her face.
“Great!” she answered before her dad had the chance to tell the truth. “Dad’s friend will be here tomorrow, and we can get started on a motion to halt building works on the castle.”
“And the cottage?” Gran asked hopefully.
“They won’t bother with the cottage when they find out they can’t destroy the castle,” Jenna told her with a confidence that she didn’t feel.
Gran’s smile of relief just made her feel guilty, but she refused to give way to that feeling. Instead, all of her energy would go on protecting her castle and her gran.
“Jenna – “
“I know, Dad,” she interrupted the warning that she knew was coming. “But what’s the sense in worrying her when we don’t have to? I wrote to the lawyers first thing yesterday morning. Asked them for a meeting. Maybe these King people aren’t so bad,” she said, but it sounded more like a plea than a statement. “Maybe whoever they’re sending over will be reasonable and decent and will decide to leave us and our castle alone.”
Her dad eyed her sceptically, his black-rimmed glasses slipping down his nose.
“Do you really believe that?”
“No,” she sighed. “But if there’s even the slightest possibility I’m right then I’ll take it.”
“No.”
One word, but it was enough to silence the entire room.
Conor sighed, the beginnings of a headache pressing against the back of his eyes.
Jet lag was bad enough, but jet lag coupled with the news that some earth-hugger was trying to ruin his business deal? That was more than he was willing to put up.
Turning to the lawyers that had travelled from Dublin to meet with him, he kept his expression emotionless. He didn’t want anyone knowing how irritating he was finding this particular bump in the road. Not even the people who worked for him.
“I thought this was taken care of,” he said evenly.
“We did, too, Mr. King.” His lawyer pulled at the navy tie that looked like it was choking him. “We couldn’t have foreseen the woman’s unreasonableness. The offer on the cottage is, as we told your people, extremely generous. We just don’t understand it.”
Conor bit back a curse.
This was a complication he really didn’t need.
“That’s why we thought – if you would just meet with Ms. McCarthy, perhaps smooth things over?”
Standing from his chair at the top of the conference table they were currently seated at, Conor looked out at the courtyard of the hotel. Unsurprisingly, rain lashed against the flagstones.
That was one of the prevailing memories he had of childhood days here in his grandfather’s beloved birthplace.
Rain.
But it wasn’t depressing. In fact, in a weird way, the weather just seemed to add to the charm of the place.
Right now though, he was feeling anything but charmed.
“Fine,” he said after a tense moment of silence. “I’ll meet her. She represents the property owner, you say?”
He turned back to his team of lawyers and property managers to see them exchange a nervous look.
Clenching his jaw in frustration, he asked the question that he knew he wouldn’t like the answer to.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“Er – Ms. McCarthy. She’s – she’s trying to stop works on the castle, too. We got a letter from the Historical Preservation Society. They’re anxious to see the place before we break ground.”
Conor pinched the bridge of his nose, the only outward portrayal of his annoyance.
“Great,” he drawled sarcastically. “Anything else I need to know?”
The lawyer visibly gulped.
“She’s the cottage owner’s granddaughter, Mr. King. And – she has a bit of a reputation for fighting against corporate greed.”
Conor raised a brow.
“Her words,” the lawyer said quickly. “Not mine.”
“Maybe a meeting will smooth things over,” he finally answered. He imagined that a few platitudes and an invitation to stay at the hotel when it was up and running would make this little irritation go away and let Conor get back to the actual important things. That was usually the way of things with these bored, small town folk with nothing else to do.
“Do you really believe that?”
“Of course,” Conor answered confidently. “You set the meeting. I’ll do the rest.”
Chapter 4
The next day, Conor eyed the small town of Dunkilly as he drove along the main street and pulled up outside the address he’d been given.
“I’m here,” he said, glancing at the clock on the dashboard of his rental.
He was early but only by a few minutes.
“And?”
Cameron’s voice sounded through the Bluetooth speaker.
“And what?”
�
�What’s it like?”
“It’s quaint and pretty. Great for tourists,” he answered swiftly. “And this woman’s ‘office’ is pink.” He scowled.
Cameron laughed at Conor’s disgust.
“Look, just get in there, flash those baby blues, and get the signature,” his brother instructed. “I’m going to Rome in a couple of weeks, and I’d like to see you before I head out.”
Conor snorted.
“A couple of weeks? You’ll see me in a couple of days, brother,” he said. “I’m not going to let this woman or her client stop me from finalising this deal.”
“Alright, let me know how it goes.”
“Will do. And you’ll update Caleb and Carter? Callie, too, if she makes an appearance.”
Cameron laughed again. “No problem. Gotta go.”
His brother signed off, and Conor switched off the engine, checking the time once more.
It was just coming up for two in the afternoon, which meant it was seven am back home. That’s why Cameron had answered and not Caleb. Conor could guarantee that Caleb had already been up for at least an hour, done one of his insane workouts, and was probably out running right now.
They all liked to keep in shape, but Caleb was a machine.
Carter was probably still in bed sleeping off whatever party he’d been at the night before.
And Callie – well, who knew with Callie? She came and went as she pleased, and half of the time none of them knew what she was up to.
The offer half, they didn’t want to know.
As the youngest and the only girl, Callie was a bit of a wild child.
But Conor didn’t have time to worry about his erratic little sister right now.
He had another potentially erratic female to deal with right then, one that he hoped wouldn’t take him too long to deal with.
Climbing out of the car, Conor eyed the building in front of him.
It hadn’t been a hallucination. It really was bubble-gum pink. The old-fashioned barn door was painted a brilliant white, as were the sash windows and sills. Sills that were covered in blooming flowers.
What sort of lawyer worked out of a place like this? It looked like one of those doll houses Callie had played with as a girl.
