Valley of Fire (Valley of the Moon Book 2)

by Bronwyn Archer

“Ten million to a Mr. Charles Bernardo of Walnut Creek, California.”

  “Yep.”

  “A wire of five million to a bank in Moscow, care of a Miss Nastasia Makarova.”

  “Right.” Nastia had saved me—and then flown back home to raise her little boy once I’d testified that her actions leading to the death of notorious Russian crime lord Victor Savitch had been in self-defense—and in defense of me. I’d hired the best criminal defense lawyer in California to avoid a trial and get her home fast. Five million felt like the least I could do. I didn’t want her to have to date another Victor and abandon her son again.

  “And finally, Headmaster Wimbish at the Briar School for Girls has gratefully accepted your offer to start a scholarship in your mother’s name for all girls who qualify.”

  “That’s awesome. Thank you, Bernard.” No Briar girl on scholarship would ever be pressured to maintain a straight-A average to keep her place in the school. “Oh, and one more thing—please make sure my sister Cressida’s treatment bills are paid. Whatever the cost.”

  “It’s been taken care of.” I’d found the best drug rehab in California—and it was in Malibu, just a few miles from Eden and her dad and stepmom. Cressida had balked and refused to go if her dad was paying—so I’d stepped in. Eden needed her sister healthy. Eden, somehow, was dealing with her mother’s death in a shockingly mature way. Somewhere deep down, I think she understood that her mother had very real, unfixable problems, and it was all very tragic, but at least the nightmare of being Ramona’s daughter was over for her.

  Her fate would not be Cressida’s. Plus, I’d made sure she’d never have to know the truth about what her mother had almost gotten away with.

  “Thank you, Bernard.”

  “My pleasure, Miss Goodwin. Oh—and Mr. Ambrose? How is he doing?”

  I hesitated. “Ah, he’s fine. Fully recovered.” Or so I’d heard.

  “Wonderful news. Was the car delivered to your satisfaction?”

  My stomach twisted into knots. “Yes, my dad delivered it yesterday.”

  “Very good. Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy your evening.”

  I hung up, spritzed my entire body with perfume, and went to the closet. I slipped my new gown off its hanger and laid it out on the bed. It had cost ten times more than the old Lana would spend in ten years on clothes—but it was a big night. Maybe it was too sophisticated for someone my age, but the new Lana was a thousand years old.

  The last six weeks felt like an eternity. I’d spent most of it on the phone with Bernard Bannister, going over paperwork and making financial and legal decisions.

  And hiding.

  Because it turns out that inheriting hundreds of millions of dollars from the last surviving princess of New York’s Gilded Age is newsworthy. Not to mention getting kidnapped by the Russian mafia, and witnessing a double homicide on Point Bonitas involving my con artist ex-step mother and her cop boyfriend.

  I was news. Huge news. Worldwide news.

  Papers and websites all over the world had me and my story on the front cover. They’d sent reporters to Maya’s house, to my dad’s house, and even to random girls from high school that I’d never spoken to.

  I’d even seen an interview on TV with Justine, my old boss from the Valet of the Dolls.

  Some reporter got my dad’s home number, and then it seemed like every reporter in the country got it. It rang and rang, so he’d had to shut it off. There was paparazzi camped out on Chauvet Drive, so I’d secretly checked into an Airbnb rental house in the middle of the night. I didn’t even tell Maya where it was.

  Even the cops had a hard a time believing my story. The part that seemed to impress them the most was how I’d successfully escaped from a notorious hitman by slicing off my ponytail high atop a rocky cliff at the Valley of Fire state park.

  I never told any of them about how my dead godmother had helped me.

  Who would ever believe me?

  In the tiny bathroom decorated with vineyard-themed knickknacks, I finished my makeup with some mascara and glossy pale pink lipstick. I’d shaved and scrubbed myself raw in the shower, but the hair on my head was still a problem. At least my bangs were longer, so I swept them to one side and pinned them there.

  The last six weeks had been painful, surreal—and weirdly productive. I had decided to press charges against Trevor and Brett, and once their lawyers saw the nanny cam video, they’d both pled guilty. There would be no trial—just some nice, relaxing jail time for both of them.

  Even though I was trapped in my little cottage, my dad snuck over late some nights to bring me groceries and moral support—each time driving a different car to avoid getting spotted by the papparazzi.

  I had all my belongings piled in the tiny guest room—things that had survived the road trip and Victor’s yacht, and all the clothes I’d bought in New York. But you can’t eat $200 jeans, and I couldn’t step foot in downtown Glen Ellen without drawing a crowd.

  John Goodwin had basically recovered from the shock of Ramona’s death and attempted murder of me. The fact that he no longer had to worry about paying Victor or being killed really cheered him up. He was almost back to his old self.

  When he’d refused a single dollar of my help, I’d hired a company on my own (with Bernard’s help) to rebuild my burned-down childhood home. He was still furious I’d decided to postpone college, but I had too much to do. After my gap year, I’d make long-term plans.

  First, I had to figure out who the new Lana Goodwin was. The one who was fearless. The one who was richer than any eighteen-year old in America, practically.

  The one suddenly in total control of her destiny.

  Except for one thing.

  I didn’t tell my dad about Alexander and me. It was over, so there was nothing to tell, anyway. I didn’t want him to know how it had all ended, or that the Ambroses had ordered me not to contact him. And how could I blame them? I’d caused a lot of damage. It was bad enough his girlfriend was his distant step-cousin. It was worse that I was also the one who’d almost gotten him killed.

  Every day for six long weeks I fought the urge to drive to Pacific Heights, pound on his door, and throw myself into his arms.

  But he’d never called me. I left him a note begging him to find me, but he never tried. He knew where my dad lived—he could have found him if he’d wanted to.

  Instead I’d endured six weeks of agonizing radio silence.

  I picked my gorgeous new dress off the bed and stepped into it.

  Sumptuous navy silk with a hint of sheen tumbled down my body. The dress felt like wearing nothing. The skirt skimmed my body and brushed the floor, ending in a small train. The halter top tied behind the neck in a bow. Another tie at the waist cinched it tight and concealed the strap of my bra, but left the rest of my back exposed. The cool silk against my legs made me shiver.

  I slid my feet into black suede heels, picked up my sparkly clutch and wrap, and left.

  #

  By the time I pulled up to the valet at the ultra-fancy Napa vineyard, late-afternoon sun glinted across the hills and vineyards. It was warm, but I had chills as soon as I stepped out of the car.

  He was here.

  “Lana? Is that you?” My old friend Desiree from the Valet of the Dolls held my car door open for me. “I saw you on the news!”

  I gave her a huge hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “Love the hair,” she said, looking me up and down. “And this car—hello! What are you doing here?”

  I handed her the keys to the brand-new Aston Martin and shrugged. “I’m family.”

  Ushers in tuxedos led me down a stone path to the shady lawn behind the main winery building. The lawn overlooked the rolling vineyards below. An ornate canopy of branches festooned in white flowers framed the view perfectly. Roy, looking dapper and tanned, waited under the canopy. Alexander and Soren stood next to him in charcoal gray suits.

  My heart raced as soon as I saw him. He was slightl
y paler than I remembered him, and his hair was longer. I slid into a chair in the back row next to a handsome older bearded man wearing a purple bow-tie.

  “Just in time,” the bearded man said to me, with a little wink. I nodded, and the music started. Everyone stood up and turned to watch. A long series of bridesmaids in pale green flowing gowns with white flowers in their hair made their way to the canopy. I narrowed my eyes at the first one, who I assumed was Bree. Gretchen emerged last in a draped, lacy gown on the arm of her father, beaming. When she arrived under the canopy, Roy took her arm. The music stopped, everyone sat down, and the ceremony began.

  As soon as the happy couple kissed and marched back up the aisle to the cheers of the crowd, Alexander scanned the crowd, but he didn’t see me. I watched him escort his mother up the aisle, and they disappeared into the building. Wedding guests drifted over to another lawn, where glowing white lights were strung up, waiters circulated with trays of appetizers and champagne flutes, and a jazz band played live music.

  I was supposed to find my date, but I didn’t know where he was.

  The bearded man next to me tapped my arm. “Excuse me, Miss? I’m sorry but are you Lana Goodwin?” He and the younger man sitting next to him watched me expectantly.

  “Oh. Ah, yes, I am.”

  The younger one nodded. “Told you!” he said to the other guy. “Jay and I read about you in the Chronicle. What a story! You’re like a real-life Cinderella! How does it feel to inherit—”

  The bearded man elbowed him. “Michael, don’t be rude. She’s at a wedding!”

  I laughed. “It’s okay. I can’t really believe it either. I keep thinking I’ll be back in rags as soon as the clock strikes twelve.” Michael eyed me up and down. “No way. You were born to be a princess.”

  Jay smiled at me with bright eyes. “Maybe we can help Lana find her Prince Charming.”

  A hand brushed my bare shoulder. “There you are.” I almost jumped out of my shoes. “I was worried you chickened out.”

  My date had found me. Soren Ambrose looked dashing in his suit. His beard was freshly trimmed for the occasion. “Guys, mind if I steal her?” He held out his arm and I slid mine through his.

  I waved goodbye to my new friends and walked back down the path with Soren. My heart raced. I tried to act normal. “How’s life, Soren?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Better now that this dumpster fire wedding is almost over.” He looked over at me and smiled. “Nice dress. Super sexy and very heiress.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “Ready to help me ruin a wedding—and make my little brother’s day?”

  I nodded.

  “Good.”

  Soren had shown up unannounced at my door three days earlier. He’d found me by simply hanging around Glen Ellen until he’d spotted my dad heading to my secret lair.

  He’d insisted I come to the wedding with him. We’d argued about it.

  “I can’t—your parents told me to stay away from him.”

  “You care what people think? Hello—you’re the richest teenager in America.”

  “I don’t want to cause any more problems in his life.”

  “Right now, you hiding from him is his problem.” He’d rubbed his beard and sighed. “My little brother thinks you don’t want to see him ever again and it’s breaking my heart, okay? My parents told him you said you needed space and that you begged them to make sure he never contacted you again.” He’d glared at me. “But I call bullshit on that.”

  “What! I never said that! I even left him a note! I told him to call me as soon as he was feeling better.”

  He’d nodded. “I knew it. He never got your note.”

  “How do you know?”

  He’d smiled ruefully and shrugged. “On the flight yesterday, I overheard Gretchen talking to my mom about your little note. Apparently, Helen found it in his hospital room but Elijah wouldn’t let her show it to him.” He’d watched my reaction with a satisfied grin. “The good news is that Elijah decided on the spot to reinstate Alex’s inheritance. I guess he thought that was why Alex was so interested in you.” He’d looked a little sheepish, even apologetic. “That’s not why he’s interested in you, though. Just to be clear.” He’d sighed heavily and stroked his beard. “My parents are actually good people, but my dad can be a dick. Helen’s trying to protect her family. She just sucks at it.”

  “You’re right—your dad is a dick.”

  He’d grinned at that. “Lucky for you, so am I. You want to help me get a little bit of revenge—and make Alexander’s day?”

  As we walked towards a walled-off garden overlooking the valley, I spotted them posing for photographs. The entire wedding party was sitting on low stone steps, with Gretchen and Roy in the middle, clasping each other’s hands. Alexander sat behind them, flanked closely by two pretty blondes in green chiffon who looked at least ten years older than him.

  Soren opened the gate to the garden and I followed him in. “Get behind me,” Soren hissed as we approached them. I moved so his body blocked them from seeing my face.

  “THERE he is!” shrieked Gretchen, gesturing to the photographer. “That’s my brother, finally! Soren, where the HELL have you been?”

  “Sorry, I ran into an old friend.” Soren stepped to the side. “Surprise!”

  Gasps went up in the crowd. My eyes found Alexander and his gaze met mine and suddenly there was no one else there.

  “Lana! Is that you?” Roy shouted. “Wow, hardly recognized you looking like that.” The posed gathering fell apart as everyone rushed at me. “Lana Goodwin, everybody! I’m sure you recognize her from the news.”

  I barely heard the cacophony around me. I lost sight of Alexander as various Ambroses greeted me and shook my hand and kissed me on the cheek.

  Suddenly the crowd parted. Alexander walked towards me and Soren. Everyone got quiet.

  “Hey, bro—didn’t mean to make a fuss, but I want you to know that Lana here left you a note when you were in the hospital,” Soren said. “She wanted you to get in touch with her as soon as you could.” Elijah glowered from the steps, where he hadn’t budged. Helen looked horrified. “She’s been waiting six weeks to hear from you. So I thought I’d bring her to the wedding where you two kids can sort all this out.”

  The truth hit Alexander as if in slow motion. His eyes widened and his jaw clenched. “Mom? Is that true?” Alexander’s voice was calm and deep. It was the first time I’d heard it in weeks and a thrilling shock ran through my body.

  Helen looked like she was about to cry. “Honey, let me explain.” The other guests politely drifted over to the other side of the garden, but I felt all eyes on us. “Dad felt it was for the best.” She looked at me kindly. “I owe you an apology, Lana. I was wrong.”

  “What about Alex?” Soren shouted. “When does he fucking decide what’s best for him?”

  Elijah, who was a few inches shorter than his son, walked up behind Soren.

  “When he can start making responsible decisions.”

  Soren bristled. “Pretty sure wanting to be with the girl you love IS a responsible decision, Pop. Not that you’d know. Why’d my mother run off to Europe?”

  An elderly woman in a sequined black gown gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “Soren!” Elijah snapped. “That’s enough.”

  “Alex, our dear sister knew they told Lana to stay away from you. Right, Gretch?” Soren was on a roll and enjoying it. Gretchen stared daggers at Soren. Roy looked bemused.

  Helen spoke up. There was a note of panic in her voice. “Soren, this is Gretchen’s day—can we please discuss this later? Alex, honey—” she turned to her son. “I want to apologize. Dad and I should not have hidden Lana’s note.”

  “Helen . . .” Elijah warned.

  “No, Elijah! The way you treat Alex is unfair.” I laid a hand on Helen’s arm and she almost burst into tears.

  I looked at Elijah. His expression softened. “Your son’s the
best person I know. The best person I’ve ever met. He saved my life—more than once.”

  Alexander’s dimples made an appearance. It had been so long since I’d seen them. He walked over to the speechless Elijah and shook his hand.

  “Elijah, I love you and I forgive you. But now I have to get Lana out of here before she decides she hates every last one of you people.”

  He gave Soren a tight hug and whispered something in his ear and Soren’s face split into a wide toothy smile.

  I walked over to Alexander and slid my hand into his. He bent down and brushed his lips to my cheek.

  “Next time I’m unconscious, maybe don’t just leave a note,” he whispered.

  “Sorry.” Electric shocks crackled through my bones. He smelled amazing. My body temperature shot up and I desperately needed to be alone with him.

  “What are you wearing?” he said. “Still trying to kill me, I see.”

  “Just wait,” I whispered back. His eyes narrowed and his dimples deepened.

  He slid his arm around my waist as we strolled away from the garden. “Sorry I ruined your photos, Sis!” he called out. I turned and caught Soren’s eye. I waved and he winked at me. We practically ran down the path to the front of the winery. The last thing I saw was Helen standing next to her husband, grinning like a madwoman.

  When Desiree pulled up in his brand-new silver-blue Aston Martin, I giggled when I saw his shocked expression.

  “Very nice,” he said. “Closing out your tab?”

  “Yep, it’s yours. But there’s just one catch.”

  I held my hand up and Desiree expertly tossed me the keys.

  “Yeah?”

  “You have to drive me home.”

  #

  As we drove over the top of the Mayacamas and headed down into Sonoma, a spectacular sunset exploded across the sky. A few stars sparkled against indigo sky to the east, along with the thinnest sliver of moon. The Aston Martin’s engine revved as he sped down the hill. It felt amazing to be back in a car with him.

  We had farther to go together. I just knew it.

  I smoothed the silky fabric over my legs and gathered the train into my lap.

  “I can’t wait to see where you’ve been hiding from me.” He glanced over at me and squeezed my hand.