For the next hour, they laughed and dined on elaborate, decadent desserts that included a citrus mousse topped with candied lemon spirals and lemon cream, a peppermint and chocolate cake with candied frosting, brown sugar caramel pound cake, peanut butter and chocolate pie, and a pear and almond tort. By the time the three of them scraped away the last of the cream and finished off another bottle of white wine, they were laughing as they recalled some of their high school pranks. It was one of the most relaxing afternoons Ella had enjoyed in a long time!
Chapter 2
“Dad?!” Ella called out as she entered her father’s cottage, dumping her messenger bag by the front door.
Silence. “Outside,” she muttered, smiling in anticipation of finding her father in his garden. Tom Fleming loved to garden and had the most beautiful tulips in the spring, the largest and most vibrant hydrangeas and, in late summer, the most glorious roses. He worked at the post office in the mornings, taking the early shift so that he could be home by mid-afternoon to work in his garden. Ella’s father barely took the time to take off his postal uniform before he shuffled off to get gardening. Tom Fleming cooked and cleaned his neat cottage on the edge of the village, but his garden was truly his pride and joy.
When there was still silence, Ella called out again, opening the back door. Then she paused, breathing in the scents of orange and lilac. “Oh my!”
“Ella!” her father called, poking his head up from behind one of the rose bushes. “You’re home!” and he pushed his hat back on his head as he shuffled out from behind the bushes. With open arms, he hurried over to Ella, wrapping her into a hug that was warm and reassuring. “Oh, it’s good to see you!” he gushed. Pulling back, he looked down into her eyes, his fatherly gaze making sure that she was whole and healthy. “You look wonderful, honey,” he told her sincerely.
“So do you, Dad,” she returned his hug with interest. “I missed you!”
He laughed and threw an arm over her shoulder. “I missed you too! Tell me where you’ve been over the past few weeks. I lost track of you when you headed out to Mozambique.”
They settled in the kitchen with the ancient appliances that still worked due to her father’s ability to fix any and everything. If it had an engine, he could make it purr like a kitten. He grabbed a pitcher of iced tea and poured them tall glasses, then sat down at the beaten kitchen table to listen and talk. They laughed about her travels and his garden while Ella felt the tension ease out of her shoulders.
“I saw Malcolm Reynolds yesterday,” she said, after taking a long swallow of her iced tea.
“You saw his lordship?” Tom asked, none of the animosity in his voice that Ella had conveyed yesterday. “How is he?”
She shrugged, nibbling a cookie. “Pompous as ever. He interrupted my lunch with Cassy and Naya.”
His furry eyebrows lowered. “Now, Ella, that doesn’t sound very polite,” he admonished, topping off their glasses. “Besides, he’s a lord. You should treat him with respect.”
Ella laughed softly, shaking her head. “Right. Not gonna happen, Dad. His family treated Mom horribly. I am only returning the favor.”
Tom sighed heavily. “How are your friends?” he asked, changing the subject. “I see their pictures in the papers occasionally. They become more beautiful every year.”
Ella smiled, ignoring the pinch of jealousy at the thought of her friends’ happiness. “They’re doing really well,” she replied.
“Do you ever hear from those other three girls from high school?” he asked. “What were their names? Tamara and…?”
Ella groaned. “We were just talking about them yesterday. And no,” she grimaced. “I don’t hear from Tamara, Willow, or Lana. Why would I? We might have lived across the hallway from each other, but we weren’t really friends. Acquaintances at best.”
Tom shook his head. “I never understood why. It seemed as if all of you girls had something in common. I remember meeting them during parent’s week and they seemed nice.”
“They came from a different background, Dad,” Ella explained, even though she’d explained this several times to her father. “They were all incredibly wealthy and could buy just about anything they wanted. What could we have had in common?”
“Seems like your commonality was school and living so far away from your families, but maybe that’s just me.” He stood up and started taking food out of the fridge to make dinner for the two of them. “So, what are you working on now? Any deep mystery happening out in the world?”
This was a subject she felt more comfortable talking about. “Yes!” she said eagerly. “Remember when Mom came home from cleaning the house after those big, secret parties on the estate?” she asked.
“Sure!” he chuckled. “Nothing irritated your mother more than not knowing what was going on. She loved walking through the neighborhoods at night in the fall, so she could see into everyone’s windows.”
Ella laughed at the memory, relieved that it didn’t hurt anymore to think of her mother. Instead, there was simply a soft, warm feeling. “Well, I remember one time she showed me a small, gold pin, the kind that men wear on their lapels.”
Her father tilted his head slightly, thinking back to that day. A moment later, he nodded as he spread mustard on fresh bread. “I remember that. Something about a hand and…” he shook his head. “I can’t remember what else. But she talked about it for days after that party, thinking that she’d stumbled onto a secret society or something.”
Ella’s eyes sharpened as the spark of curiosity leapt up inside of her. “A flame coming out of the palm of the hand.”
“Right!” he said, pointing the mustard-covered knife in the air. “That was it. Okay, so what about it?”
“Well, I was in a village in Tular recently,” she explained, leaning forward. “Several of the women had disappeared one night. When I started asking questions, a witness said that they remembered seeing a stranger wearing a shirt with an emblem on the right corner. A hand with a flame coming out of the palm.” She waited for her father to understand the significance.
He stopped making sandwiches and turned to look at Ella. “You think there’s a connection between a party an old man had more than fifteen years ago and someone walking by a village in another continent?” he asked incredulously.
Ella shrugged and accepted the sandwich he offered. “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
Tom sighed and took his seat across from her again. “If Edward Reynolds is involved, it might be dangerous, honey.”
Ella took a sip of her lemonade. “I don’t care. If that man is doing something illegal, I’m going to find out.”
Her father’s eyes turned wary. “What if the man just had a party with weird, kinky sex?”
Ella cringed. “Eww! That’s too horrible to think about.” She put her sandwich down, not really hungry anyway. “It’s possible that he had some kinky sex parties, Dad. But what if he had a party with women who weren’t there voluntarily?” she offered. “What if that man is involved in sex trafficking?”
Her father’s eyes sharpened now, anger starting to burn inside of him. “You think it’s something that nefarious?”
Ella sighed and looked down at the table, thinking, trying to put the puzzle pieces together, but there were too many holes. “I won’t know until I look into the issue. There’s definitely a connection. That pin and the description of the symbol on the shirt…they’re too similar. And the women who had disappeared, they were sick and vulnerable. Two had been kidnapped the month before, beaten brutally, and weren’t recovering well. They needed medical attention, the kind that the small villagers couldn’t provide.”
“That’ sounds awful,” Tom replied with a heavy sigh. “I know that you dive into these mysteries and, so far, you’ve come out unscathed. But Ella, please be careful with this one. If there is a connection to Edward Reynolds and the disappearing women, then…”
Ella put her hand on her father’s forearm. “I’ll
be careful,” she promised. “I’ve learned over the years to be discreet.”
Tom sighed, nodding but he didn’t pick up his sandwich again. “Good,” he told her. “Good.”
Chapter 3
“Figures,” Ella grumbled, staring up at the imposing building that housed the headquarters of Reynolds Industries. Over the past few days, she’d done her research and, although the Duke of Theeds, Edward Reynolds, was still alive, he wasn’t active in the social world anymore. But he hadn’t passed his title or wealth on to his son, Malcolm Reynolds. In a way, Ella respected Malcolm more because he’d created so much from nothing. He hadn’t inherited his wealth, like so many rich aristocrats in the world. He’d created a massive empire through grit and determination. He was thirty-six years old and a billionaire many times over. He bought ailing companies, fixed them up, and sold them off. So he didn’t really own anything, other than a huge amount of land and real estate, all of which was separate from his investment company.
And yet, she remembered that shiver of awareness a couple of days ago at the restaurant. The man was tall and arrogant, she thought. But if there was one thing that had never impressed her, it was wealth. In fact, because of the way Edward Reynolds had treated Ella’s mother, the way the arrogant jerk had simply tossed her out of his house because he could, his disdain for decades of loyalty and service had caused Ella to despise people with a disproportionate amount of wealth. They had too much power and, in most cases, wielded that power with contemptuous disregard for anyone outside of their social circle.
But staring up at this imposing building, Ella felt…something. Something strange that…well, it wasn’t important, she thought. “He’s just compensating,” she muttered.
“What do you suspect I’m compensating for?” a deep voice asked from behind her.
Startled, Ella swung around, finding Malcolm Reynolds much closer than she’d anticipated. Much closer and…had he grown a few inches taller over the past few days? The man was crazy tall! Well over six feet. Ella was five feet, seven inches, so she was relatively tall for a woman. Plus she’d worn black boots with three inch heels. But good grief! Malcolm Reynolds still towered over her!
“What are you doing out here?” she gasped, stepping back to put some space between them.
Those cobalt blue eyes sparkled with amusement, the corners crinkling enticingly. “Am I not supposed to be outside?”
Her eyes narrowed as she realized that he was teasing her. “You’re supposed to be inside, destroying people’s lives,” she retorted with a defiant lift of her chin.
“Ah,” he laughed, leaning back slightly. “Well, I broke up ten families this morning, so I thought I’d take a break. Would you like to come inside?” he offered. “We can throw a dart on the wall and see who I should destroy this afternoon. Would be fun….”
Ella bristled at his tone. “This is funny to you?” she demanded, her temper increasing with his mocking attitude.
“A little,” he replied with a soft chuckle, putting a hand to the small of her back as he led her into the building. “I think that you are a brilliant reporter, Ella. I’ve followed your career over the years and I’ve been impressed with not only by your bravery at reporting on horrible situations, but also your talent at conveying those issues.”
He pressed a button on the elevator and, almost immediately, the elevator appeared. With that hand still at her back, he nudged her into the elevator and they rose. Since this was a glass elevator that looked out at the city, Ella automatically stepped away from the glass and the scary heights. Unfortunately, she stepped back…against him. For a stolen instant, she could feel the hard muscles of his chest against her back and his strong arms around her waist. It was a shocking but intensely pleasant sensation and, since it had been a long time since she’d even kissed a man, it took her a moment to pull away.
“Sorry,” she muttered, jerking away from him. But she didn’t move too far. The glass of the elevator might be thick, but she didn’t trust anything to keep her safe this high above the ground. Unfortunately, that left her standing awkwardly in the middle of the elevator and she almost jumped through the doors when they finally opened on the executive floor.
Breathing deeply, she looked around, trying to calm her racing nerves. Obviously, Ella wasn’t a huge fan of heights and she looked up at Malcolm, bracing herself for his amusement at her expense.
“This way,” he said and gestured towards one end of the elegantly decorated hallway. No jokes about her fear of heights, no pity or laughter in his eyes? Ella was confused because…he wasn’t going to laugh at her?
Reluctantly grateful, Ella followed him down the elegantly decorated hallway, looking around, trying to take in everything as she passed. Feelings, smells, other people’s expressions. Everything would be included in her story.
Malcolm paused at an older woman’s desk. “Nancy, would you order some lunch for us? We’re going to be a while.”
Ella frowned. “I’m not staying for lunch,” she told him, even though she was famished. She’d skipped breakfast this morning, wanting to check in with her editor before coming to meet with Malcolm.
Nancy ignored Ella and nodded to her boss before turning back to her computer. Order lunch online? That would be excellent! Ella had been out of the country for so long, living in mud huts, tin-roofed houses, or tents…none of which had had reliable internet service. She’d read articles about these conveniences, but since she’d only been back in London for a few days, she hadn’t experienced the glory of ordering food from one’s phone and having it delivered, hot and yummy, to one’s doorstep. Her idea of convenience over the past few years was picking ripe fruit from a tree.
Ella tore her curious eyes away from Nancy’s computer and hurried after Malcolm into the office.
“Close the door,” Malcolm ordered.
Ella had to restrain herself from slamming it while curtsying. Sarcastically, of course. But she stepped back and quietly closed the door, then turned to face the man she was going to put into prison.
“So...”
“I read that story you did on last month on human trafficking. It was brilliant. Do you think it will do any good?”
Ella had written about the desperate situation in several countries, which created an environment where teenage girls could be enticed to apply for “jobs” in other countries. Unfortunately, the modeling jobs, nanny positions, and housekeeping roles never materialized. Instead, those vulnerable girls were forced into horrible situations, beaten and drugged, sold off as prostitutes, and never seen by their families again. Most of them died and were simply tossed into the streets or a pit somewhere out of the way, easily replaced by yet another girl trying desperately to “make it” in the world.
“I don’t know. I ensured that the articles also ran in the smaller newspapers. So if the article saves even one girl from being kidnapped and used, then that’s a good thing.”
He nodded sharply, those cobalt blue eyes sharp and intelligent. “I agree. What are you working on now?”
She smiled, sitting down in the club chair across from him. “I’ve come across some interesting leads for a story that, I suspect, started decades ago. Maybe longer.”
“I’m intrigued.” He opened his mouth to say more, but a knock sounded and Nancy stepped into the office carrying a full tray of food and drinks. “Thank you, Nancy,” Malcolm said and she smiled, set the tray down onto the table between them and walked out quietly, pulling the door closed behind her.
“Please, help yourself,” he said, referring to the tray of small sandwiches. There were small plates and fruit along with sodas.
“I’m fine,” Ella replied, waving the food away.
“Do you mind if I go ahead? I’ve been in meetings since early this morning and I’m starving.”
Ella shrugged. “Fine by me,” she told him, then watched, fascinated as he put several of the small sandwiches onto a plate.
“You were telling me about your next r
evelation?” he prompted.
“I’m working on putting you and your rich cronies into prison,” she announced.
That got a smile out of him and Ella wondered about it. Was he so confident about his social status as an aristocrat that he thought of himself as immune to conviction? Or was he innocent of whatever was going on with the secret society?
“That is really going to put a dent in my social life,” he chuckled. “What do you think I’ve done to warrant a prison sentence?’ he asked, leaning back and taking another bite of his sandwich.
Ella watched him, oddly fascinated by his hands. They were strong, with long, deft fingers. What was it about those hands was so interesting?
She jerked her eyes away from his hands and looked up at his features. “Um…” focus! “Have you ever heard or seen a symbol like this one?” she asked, pulling out her notebook and flipping to the page where she’d sketched the flaming hand symbol.
Malcolm leaned forward, his eyes looking over the picture before leaning back. “What does it mean?” he asked.
Ella noticed that he hadn’t answered her question. Interesting, she thought. “I don’t know what it means. Yet,” she paused significantly. “But I’m going to find out, Malcolm.”
“Where did you first see that symbol?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. But what do you know about it?”
“Oh, I’m sure that there are secret societies all over the world, Ella.”
She smiled triumphantly. “Another evasive answer.”
He laughed and Ella ignored the jump in her stomach at the deep, rich sound. “You’re not giving me a whole lot to go on. Perhaps if you tell me when you saw the symbol, I might be able to help you a bit more.”
She shook her head. “I don’t give out my sources, Malcolm. You should know that, being in business and all.”
“Being in business isn’t nearly as mysterious as investigating crimes, I suspect.”
The Secrets of Seduction (The Ladies of The Burling School Book 7) Page 2
