“Unfortunately only my father, as the trustee, can authorize any transfers of your parents’ assets.” Seeing her brow wrinkle, he quickly added, “However, after your disappearance, he opened a savings account for you at the Orison Crossing Bank across the street. He made deposits from his own funds and managed it as a way to care for you when he had no other means of doing so.”
Melancholy filled her eyes as she accepted the folder.
“These are condensed account records for every deposit, withdrawal, and interest accrual. The current monthly statement is in there, along with a debit card and pin number.”
As she flipped through the papers, he continued, “Use the debit card to keep your identity a secret. This entire town spent weeks searching the countryside and woods for you. We feared you stumbled out of the car and got lost looking for help. When everyone learns that you’re back, well, you can imagine the commotion.”
Skimming the columns to find the balance, Paresh felt time slow and her body went alight from her toes up. Her jaw dropped. “Wha...?”
Closing her eyes, she spoke breathless from disbelief. “Miss Lydia paid for the train in cash and gave me the two remaining dollars.” She swallowed and took in a shaky breath. “That’s all I had when I woke up. Thankfully, Simon brought me breakfast. But this! It’s almost a hundred thousand dollars!” Questions swirled in the steel eyes that popped open and met his. “Your dad did this just for me?”
The caretaker had contacted her already. Eric concealed his concern with a small laugh. “He’d do anything for you. This account is only insured to a certain amount, so he invested excess earnings into your trust’s mutual funds.”
Her eyes glazed over. “My what?”
“Paresh,” he pointed to the balance. “This is nothing compared to your inheritance. Your parents desired a quiet life and lived frugally, so you never knew about the trust—all of your family’s investments, holdings, properties, and more.”
“This is nothing compared to my inheritance?” She jabbed past his finger at the number with all the zeros. “No way. How much rea—”
“Approximately five hundred and fifty million domestically, not including property values and foreign holdings.”
The paper drifted to the floor and her mouth seemed to go with it. She was frozen, unable to think. She might’ve stopped breathing.
Eric’s grin widened as he retrieved the paper and gently nudged her jaw shut. “The Hawthorne name has been tied to vast wealth since before the Civil War, mostly earned through railroad engineering and investments, which led to mining in Las Vegas and then casinos when the mines collapsed, plus hotels, restaurants, and politics. It even survived the Great Depression and boomed with well timed technological investments.”
“I-I-I need to sit. Down.” She stiffly sank into the couch. “Five... hundred... mil—”
“Oh, and speakeasies!” Eric interrupted, unable to help himself. He laughed heartedly. “One of your Prohibition grandfathers had ‘friends’ in Chicago. I’m sorry to surprise you like this!”
“It’s not the only shocking thing I’ve heard today.”
Sitting beside her, he sobered slightly. “Anything you need—anything at all—I will take care of personally.” Needing to touch her again, he slid his hand across her shoulders.
“Talk about a full day,” she muttered. “I had no idea Dad was—” She flicked the paper. “Rich.”
She made a thoughtful noise. “Is Uncle David, too? Does he own the entire community?”
“Probably. David and your father never got along, but it worsened a few years before your grandfather died in 1975. The Senator secretly altered his will to give Andrew the majority, and left David a smaller, but still comfortable, stipend.”
As Paresh gnawed on her lip, staring at the paper, Eric silently mulled over telling her about the decades’ old family drama that would reveal her uncle’s true nature and the less than honorable beginning to her parents’ courtship.
“Why would Dad not tell me he had a brother?” she asked, more confused than upset. “Or that Eric had a son?”
Eric inwardly flinched.
“Your father was truly a good man.” His smile faded. “And David, well, we’ll learn quite a bit about David and the community soon.”
She shoved the sheet into the folder. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t want to alarm you earlier, but kidnapping across state lines is a federal offense. Walter left to give the Federal Bureau of Investigation your statement. They’ll swoop down on the compound in Kansas and reveal everything we need to know.”
He mentally chided himself for using the “k” word. She had instantly stiffened. Her shoulders were like stone under his palm.
Molly’s voice rang through his mind. Let her feel her emotions.
Easier said than done, he thought grimly as he gently cupped Paresh’s cheek and turned her toward him. Stealing her gaze with deliberate eyes, he said, “Don’t worry. Don’t fear. You are home and you are safe with me.”
Thankfully, the saying “money talks” applied to her, and the ability to buy privacy on the national level would give him extra time to keep her hidden. He and Walter would act as intermediaries with the FBI, but reality was never ideal. Eventually she’d need to speak to the FBI and the media would descend on Orison Crossing. Beautiful, missing heiresses never turned up quietly.
And locally, of course, money meant nothing. He easily conjured memories-in-waiting of parades and parties that would put her in an unwanted spotlight.
Staring into her empty eyes, he added, “You’ll see Eric sooner than you think.” Her body relaxed and her lips turned up into a half smile. His heart both sang and sank. He hated the lie. Patting her knee reassuringly, he closed his eyes and broke the suggestive link.
Clearing his throat, he asked, “So, do you need any help getting settled?”
“I...” She fidgeted with the folder, feeling like she’d just surfaced from underwater again. This was the strangest migraine she’d ever had. Glancing around, she said uncertainly, “I’m on my own for the first time in my life and the cottage is the same. Nothing is different. I keep expecting my parents to come home.”
A flash of clear blue caught her earnest attention.
“I don’t want to be alone with that,” she openly confessed, not looking away.
“You aren’t alone.”
The intensity in his eyes made her heart leap. After an apparent eternity, he finally lowered his lids and whispered, “I am here for anything you need.”
“Thank you,” she replied quietly.
He stood and offered his hand. Accepting, she said, “Um, well, Simon said I should replace the appliances and I doubt I can lift a refrigerator on my own.” She half laughed at her feeble joke.
Eric laughed despite himself. “You can pay people for that,” he said, pulling her up. “And I can take you to dinner tonight.”
The instant the words left his mouth, he regretted them. A night of lies, pretending to be someone else? It was another betrayal by someone who supposedly loved her, someone who had just said he’d never deceive her.
As his lips parted with an excuse, her cheeks flushed and she shyly said, “Dinner sounds nice. I’d love to learn more about you. I didn’t know Eric had a son.”
A sudden urge to avert his gaze washed over him, but he held it steady. He was a natural predator, patient with an eye for weakness, like a hidden cat waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. He rarely lied and only bent the truth as needed—after all, it was much easier to use bait and bring the prey to him.
But Paresh wasn’t just some human to be manipulated. For the rest of her life, he would stand by her side, regardless of her reaction to his truth. He always kept his promises.
It’s to protect her, he told himself, as though the excuse for excuses was actually morally consoling. You’ll tell her in time.
She stood, tucking the folder under her arm. “Use the debit card and don�
�t give out my name. Anything else?” Her eyes were sad, but her smile was genuine.
“Ah—” He fidgeted beside her, flustered from his tangled thoughts. “You don’t have to go. Do you want to meet Karen Daley, one of my partners? Kenshin Dugao is—” He glanced at his watch. “Currently out at court.”
She shook her head. “I’m tired and need to grab my bags and rent a car. What time will you pick me up?”
He seemed not to hear her as he crossed to the desk to open the center desk drawer. “I have a few engagements I can’t break this afternoon, so let me give you my contact information. If you need anything at all, call me.” His brow furrowed as he looked at the card in his hand. “Well, um, unfortunately, I don’t have any cards of my own.”
He grabbed a pen and scribbled on the back. “Here’s one of my father’s. The information is all the same. I’m house sitting for him and have his cell phone—easier for clients.” He flipped the card to show her the private number he had jotted down.
Inconceivably, he had almost slipped, again. He felt like a fool tripping over himself trying to keep his lies going straight. He had never been this off kilter.
Handing her the card, he asked, “Do you have a cell phone?”
She shook her head.
“I’ll have Molly give you one of ours,” he said. “We have several that we lend out to clients so we can access them as needed.”
“Can you show me how to use it?”
“Do you know what one is?” he asked, wondering how sheltered she’d been.
“I’ve seen them on TV, but I was never alone, so I never needed one.” She took the card and stuffed it into the folder.
Trying to keep the topic light, but wanting to sate his curiosity, he asked, “Did you have a computer or Internet access?”
“Mmm-hmm. I used it for homework, but Master Jon or Miss Lydia had to supervise when I was online. I only used it for assignments or to get the news.”
Eric surmised they had censored much of her access to the news. As they stepped into the lobby, Molly stood to greet them. To her, he said, “Please assign phone one to Paresh and file the bills under the Hawthorne business account. She’ll have it indefinitely.”
While Eric explained how to use it, he sent Molly across the street to withdraw cash from his account. Although he doubted anyone would recognize Paresh, the faceless debit card offered more anonymity in stores.
“Thank you so much,” Paresh said when Molly handed her an envelope brimming with twenties. She pushed the money, along with the phone and instructional booklet, into the folder. “Is it dangerous to carry this much cash around?”
“In the city it can be, so be mindful, but here you’ll be fine. Oh, I forgot to mention that patrols will drive by the cottage periodically and Chief Hodges may knock for a safety check. If anyone from Kansas contacts you, act normally and don’t say anything about meeting with me or Walter. Call me right away, okay?”
Fear crept into her eyes. “Do you think they’re going to come back for me?”
“No, it’s only precautionary—” Eric’s eyes narrowed. “Use our car and driver,” he offered suddenly.
“But I was going to rent—”
Eric’s features relaxed into a smile. “There’s no need. This way, if you want to do some shopping, for appliances or whatever you want, you don’t have to worry about getting lost or being alone.”
“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I’d like that.”
“Relax and enjoy the sunny afternoon. Our driver will take you anywhere you want and has access to our company credit line if you feel like splurging.” Eric winked and patted her on the shoulder before shooting a look at Molly, who was standing a few feet back.
“Tell him to stay with her,” he mouthed.
Molly nodded and headed to her desk.
“Can he meet me at the train station?” Paresh asked. “I want to enjoy the walk by myself.”
“Molly, have him report to the Orison Crossing Terminal and get an e.t.a.,” he called over his shoulder. He and Paresh now stood at the first exit door and she had her hand on the push bar. He slid behind her to open the door. “Our driver’s name is Sammy Weaverly.”
Eric described the car, a silver four door Lexus, and gave her Sammy’s estimated arrival time. Then he advised that he would see her for dinner.
“You never did tell me when to expect you,” she said, suddenly aware of how close he was.
“How about six-thirty?” he offered.
She smiled, bit her lower lip, and nodded. Waving to Molly, who was on the phone with Sammy, she stepped into the entry’s vestibule. She turned to face him, and, after briefly leaning in for a hug, held out her hand.
Eric grinned, taking her hand to fold her into his arms. The clean scent of her hair and skin was the sweetest perfume; it roused heat deep inside him where he had been cold for far too long. Andrew’s little girl may have been missing for ten years, but he felt as though she, the woman in his arms, had been missing his whole life. “I’m glad you’re back. You have no idea...” he whispered in her ear, squeezing her gently. “Welcome home.”
Butterflies fluttered beneath her ribcage. She melted against him and laid her head on his shoulder. The world outside slowed to a stop as the spicy scent of his cologne hit her nose—familiar and warm, like smoke on a crisp fall day. For the first time, she truly felt like she was home.
She slid her hands up the solid muscles of his back and felt his arms tighten around her. The butterflies crashed madly into each other. She firmed her embrace and closed her eyes, fully aware that he was holding her longer than was normal.
Eric clenched his teeth tightly to hold his desire at bay and forced himself to let go. When she pressed against him, every nerve in his body had fired at once, and the changes in her breathing and heartbeat had not helped.
The dreamy glaze hanging over her eyes as she lifted her head made his body sing. In that moment, he knew she felt the same way he did—or at least felt something. Neither spoke as they parted. He shared a silent look with her and watched her walk out the door.
After she disappeared from his vantage point, he returned to the lobby and faced the smirk on Molly’s face. She held his sunglasses in an extended hand. “Mr. Ravenscroft, are you actually smitten?” she asked. “I can honestly say that I’ve never experienced you in your many forms today.”
Chapter Five: Temptation
I
W alter returned to the firm later that morning trailed by two federal agents, Patrick Fieldcrest and Alfred Stone. They skimmed Walter’s written report and agreed to cooperate with Eric’s request to keep Paresh’s homecoming secret for as long as possible.
The men were on their way out when Agent Fieldcrest eyed the boxes on the coffee table and paused to look over Walter’s report again. Pointing at one page in particular, he walked over to the sitting area and asked about the letters mentioned in the report. Upon receiving confirmation that the boxes did indeed hold the documents in question, he snatched up both and headed for the door, announcing, “They’re evidence now.”
That move triggered a change in Eric that few other than Walter or Molly would have noticed. Crossing the room at a questionable rate of speed in just a few strides, he blocked Agent Fieldcrest at the door. FBI or not, he would not permit either man to take those letters. He hadn’t had time to read a single one, and the scribbled notes on those pages were his only link to a past that belonged not only to the child he had failed to protect, but also to the young woman who needed him now more than ever.
Hooking his finger over the bridge of his glasses, he slid the frames down his nose. A look from Walter, laden with warning and a hint of shock, brought him back to reality and made him drop his arm.
Eric stepped aside and offered his hand. “Thank you gentlemen for coming so quickly and agreeing to my requests.” He nodded at the boxes and offered a tight smile. “I expect a receipt for those and will file the proper release requests this after
noon. There is no reason copies cannot be used in court, if they are deemed noteworthy.”
Agent Stone shook Eric’s hand. “What happens to them isn’t up to us.”
“But we’ll get you a receipt and the name of the prosecutor assigned to this case,” Agent Fieldcrest added.
Eric nodded a farewell and pushed his glasses up as the agents left. Walter’s hand landed on his shoulder.
“Thank you, for not—” Walter rolled his hand through the air. “Well, you know. At any rate, I know that was tough, but you’ll get them back once this is done. They won’t be evidence forever and you’ve got the time to wait.”
“She really did write me every day, didn’t she?” Eric muttered.
Walter nudged his chin toward the lobby door. “I called your detectives in from Chicago, like you asked. They’ll be here in the afternoon with every case note they have, and I have the files from our investigation in my squad. We’ll figure this out. You don’t have to worry about her anymore.”
Eric nodded absently. Walter gave Eric’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“Why don’t you come with me and Molly to grab some lunch? You can check in with Sammy to see how things are going with Paresh and use the hour to unwind a bit. Have a drink or something.”
Eric didn’t answer, and it took a hard tug on his arm for Walter to get him to make eye contact.
“Hey! The way you were there, earlier?” Raising his eyebrows, Walter pointed at the sitting area. “You know, after that guy made Molly bring those boxes in? I’ve never seen you that angry before. You need a distraction, if for nothing more than to help clear your head.”
“I’m fine, Walter, really.” Eric sighed and motioned in the direction of the vestibule doors. “I just... I’ve been waiting for so long and now she’s here. I thought I’d be better prepared, but seeing her—she caught me off guard, that’s all.”
Clucking his tongue against his teeth, Walter shook his head. “I disagree with your assessment, Counselor. And I think Molly would concur.” He stuck a finger in Eric’s face. “Now, you’re usually the one with all the answers, but it’s time to listen to an old friend. Clear your head, even if you think you don’t need to. If you don’t, you won’t be able to help the investigation or that girl, and you know it.”
The Arrival (Children of the Morning Star Book 1) Page 6
