The Unreal Boyfriend

by Miranda P. Charles

  Derek suppressed a laugh. He loved that Ross was still falling for this act.

  “And please don’t be too long,” Ross added with a long-suffering sigh. “The Lord Mayor of Sydney’s arriving shortly, but he can’t stay for very long. He really wants to meet you, Holly. He’s a big fan, apparently.”

  “Sure,” Holly said.

  “I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” Xavier announced. “Where is it?”

  “I’ll show you,” Holly volunteered.

  “I’ll be out the back,” Ross said.

  Derek watched Ross leave. Here was their chance with no one to bother them.

  Xavier started working on the door of the study while Derek stayed by the hall entrance to play guard. In less than a minute, Xavier fisted his hand in triumph and motioned for Derek to follow him and Holly inside Ross’s office.

  Derek hurried towards the room. This was it. Unbelievable.

  His heart leapt out of his chest at the sight of Man and His Secrets. It was really here.

  He approached it, his eyes misting at the memory of his father. Richard McCarthy had been a truly remarkable artist, and it hurt Derek’s heart that his father was no longer around to witness the admiration and respect given to his works by people from around the world.

  “Let’s do it,” Xavier murmured.

  The three of them carefully lifted the painting from its hooks. They propped it up on the floor and Holly switched the lights off. With his UV torch, Derek inspected the back of the painting.

  The hairs on his arms and neck stood up. Just as his father had relayed to Xavier, names and dates were written in invisible ink. But something was different from what they’d found on the painting in the Palm Beach house. “This writing’s in block letters instead of cursive.”

  “That’s good,” Holly said, taking some photos with her phone. “We can read this better.”

  “Maybe Ross has a partner in crime?” Xavier asked. “That wouldn’t surprise me.”

  Derek shrugged. Maybe Ross had chosen to write in block letters on this one because the details were more important. He squatted a bit so he could read better.

  One line made his eyes water—his father’s name, and the date of his death.

  This was exactly what Richard McCarthy had seen.

  When Ross had asked Richard to fix this painting because Ross had apparently spilt coffee on it, Richard had noticed a few strange indentations on the canvas. It had taken him a couple of days to stumble onto the hidden writings behind one of his works, and he wouldn’t have thought of invisible inks until the idea of it had come from seeing an ad on TV for invisible ink pens marketed at kids. On his last day of touching up the artwork, Richard had shined a UV torch at the canvas when Ross had left the room to take a phone call.

  “Your dad was laughing when he told he saw his name with a date beside it—which happened to be the very next day from us having that conversation,” Xavier said, his voice catching. “He said Ross probably planned to hound him for some more money to pay a family debt that next day. He even said he was just glad it wasn’t your name or your mum’s on there—that he didn’t care if Ross went after him, as long as he left you guys alone.”

  Derek inhaled deeply, blinking repeatedly. “He also said he recognised the name of a detective included in here, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. He didn’t tell me who, but we had a chuckle at the thought of a law enforcement guy owing Ross some dough. I should have thought to press him for more details.”

  “You couldn’t have known, Xavier,” Derek said.

  “Maybe this is the detective your dad was talking about,” Holly said, pointing to an entry. “Wasn’t he the one who’d been shot dead on his driveway? The guy who headed a task force to investigate organised crime?”

  “I think so,” Xavier said.

  Holly started tapping on her phone. “Yes. That’s him. And he was murdered on… that date,” she finished in a whisper.

  They looked at one another, mouths hanging open.

  “Let me check another name.”

  Derek ran a hand over his face, already guessing what Holly would find out. His dad must have done what Holly was doing now, and realised what was common with these entries. It wouldn’t have been a stretch for his father to assume what the date next to his name was supposed to mean.

  “This next person was a politician in Perth,” Holly said quietly. “I remember seeing him in the news, too. They said he had a heart attack. And yes, the dates match.”

  “Dad must have been scared for us,” Derek murmured. “That was why he didn’t tell anyone about his suspicions. If he’d thought these were the people Ross had killed or had ordered to be killed…”

  “Your dad realised then how dangerous your uncle is,” Xavier supplied. “I wonder why Ross wrote all of this at the back of this painting, though?”

  Derek shook his head. “I can’t figure it out, either. Anyway, Dad’s handwritten letter you handed to me would prove that he was still alive when he named the date of his death—a date that corresponded with the entry on this painting. And with your testimony regarding your conversation with him on how he found out about this, it should be enough for the police to start an investigation.”

  Xavier nodded. “I’m sure they’ll build their case first, investigating each name written here before they make an arrest. How long that would take is anyone’s guess.”

  “Not long, I hope,” Holly said.

  “Me, too,” Derek said with a sigh. “We have to be even more careful now. Ross can’t suspect anything until the police are ready to swoop in on him. Otherwise, this painting would get destroyed.”

  “Or our names might get added on there,” Xavier said dryly.

  “Well, guys, we better get moving,” Holly warned. “The guests will be arriving soon, and someone’s bound to see us leaving this room if we don’t hurry.”

  They put the painting back on the wall, then Xavier took a peek outside. He quietly slid out and Holly followed him.

  Derek exited last, closing the door of Ross’s study and ensuring it was locked again. He breathed a sigh of relief when they returned to the top of the hallway without sighting anyone.

  “I better go out there first,” Xavier said. “You two are supposed to be having your alone time.”

  Derek faced Holly as Xavier left them. “We’re getting there.”

  Holly nodded, eyes misting. “Finally.”

  “Is your sister still upstairs?” they heard Ross say.

  “Probably,” Xavier answered.

  “The lord mayor will be here in five minutes,” Ross said with exasperation. “I don’t know why those two insist on having sexy times at the beginning of my events. Can’t they keep their hands off each other?”

  “You know how it is,” Xavier said. “They’re hiding, so they probably get all excited when they have a chance to be together outside of their homes.”

  “Holly said they might be going public soon,” Ross said unhappily.

  “Yes, I heard that. I think they shouldn’t yet, though. They just got back together. They shouldn’t let the media and the public in their lives yet.”

  “Yes! I agree with you, Xavier. Good call. You should tell Holly that.”

  Derek snickered. “He doesn’t want his events to suddenly halve in size,” he whispered to Holly as he took her hand to walk towards the direction of the voices.

  Holly rolled her eyes.

  “Ah, there you are,” Ross said, spotting them. “Glad you weren’t too long.”

  “Oh, we haven’t even started,” Derek said, putting his arms around Holly’s shoulders. “We just want to get some wine and go back upstairs.”

  Holly giggled flirtatiously, snaking both her arms around Derek’s waist to hug him tight.

  Ross muttered something softly, looking up to the skies. “Do you mind if you wait?” he asked out loud. “The first of our VIPs will be here in five minutes.”

  “Well,” Derek said, “
since Holly’s the biggest VIP, shouldn’t she be the one to make a grand entrance when everyone else has arrived?”

  “Aw, thank you, darling,” Holly said, looking up at him adoringly.

  “Holly, please,” Ross said. “You two can stay here overnight if you want, and no one will bug you after the party. Just be down here for the lord mayor. He’s almost here.”

  “Okay, then. If it’s so important to you,” Holly said to Ross with a smile.

  “Thank you. And, uh, Xavier has some advice to give you.”

  “I do?” Xavier asked innocently.

  “Yes. About their plan to go public,” Ross said.

  “Oh, right. Well, I think you should wait,” Xavier said sagely. “You’ll never have a moment’s peace if you let the media know.”

  Derek looked at Holly, as if trying to decide.

  “I think he’s right,” Holly said. “I don’t get enough privacy as it is.”

  “Whatever you want, babe,” Derek said, smiling.

  “Great!” Ross said, looking relieved. “Now why don’t we all head out to the marquee and start with some canapés?”

  Derek kept his arm around Holly’s shoulders as they walked out.

  “Shouldn’t you stop looking like a couple?” Ross asked.

  “Why?” Derek said. “None of the guests have arrived yet, and your staff have all signed NDAs.”

  Ross sent Holly a pleading look.

  “Behave, Derek,” Holly said sternly, stepping away from him.

  “Fine,” he said dryly.

  “Thank God,” Ross muttered.

  Derek chuckled. He so enjoyed annoying the hell out of his uncle. Soon, Ross would be getting more than annoyance—and it would be what he deserved.

  “Oh, look,” Holly said, whispering to him. “Ross’s new housekeeper is standing at the kitchen back door. She’s the one who helped me the other day.”

  Derek glanced in the direction Holly indicated and froze. He was looking directly at June, whose eyes were wide as saucers. “Oh, fuck.”

  “What?” Holly asked.

  “That’s Bernie’s mother,” he said, fear lodging in his throat.

  “What? No way.”

  “Shit. I’ve got to talk to her.”

  “Here you go,” Ross said, walking to them with two glasses of wine.

  Derek took one, his heart racing. What had June seen? How much had she heard? How would he be able to talk to her alone?

  And how the hell was he going to explain himself when he couldn’t tell her the truth?

  Chapter 14

  Bernadette frowned at her ringing phone in surprise. Why was her mother calling her in the middle of working at Mr. Anton’s business function? She wasn’t ready to go home yet, was she? “Hi, Mum,” she answered.

  “Bernadette,” June said in a whisper. “I need you to come here to Dural right now.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t tell you. Just come here.”

  “What do you mean you can’t tell me? Are you in trouble?”

  “No. I can’t tell you because of that blasted NDA. You have to see it for yourself.”

  Bernadette rolled her eyes. “Remember that you can tell me because I’ve signed an NDA myself?”

  “Oh. That’s right. Well, I still want you to come. Otherwise, you won’t believe me. We’ll just get into a fight and you might even kick me out of your apartment.”

  “What on earth are you talking about, Mum?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, just come here, will you?”

  “Okay, fine. But will I be allowed in?”

  June was silent for a few seconds. “Just tell Boyd you have to talk to me urgently. He’s seen you before. I’m sure he’ll be nice.”

  “Okay. I’ll text you when I get there.”

  “Good.” June hung up.

  Shaking her head, Bernadette got up from the couch and put on a jacket. Admittedly, she was very curious about what she had to see for herself at Dural.

  Her mum must have gotten into some kind of trouble. Why else would June assume they’d get into a fight if Bernadette didn’t see proof of whatever had happened with her own eyes?

  Traffic was light, so it didn’t take her long to get there. Well-dressed people were lined up by the door, and Boyd was checking invitations.

  Ah, damn. Why didn’t she think of putting on something smarter? Her old jeans and daggy jacket would make her stand out like a sore thumb in there—if Boyd agreed to let her in. More than likely, though, Boyd would just get her mother for her.

  She texted June, stating she’d arrived, then waited for a response. The last of the guests had been welcomed and Boyd had closed the door. Perhaps she should have attracted his attention before he’d disappeared. She was most definitely not going to ring the bell.

  June answered her text and asked her to wait by the front door. Sighing, she got out of her car and walked towards the house, wrapping her jacket tightly around her. She should have remembered to wear a beanie to help ward off the cold. Who knew how long her mother would make her wait out here?

  She breathed a sigh of relief when Boyd opened the door.

  “Hello, Bernadette,” he said.

  “Good evening, Boyd. How are you?” she said with a smile.

  “I’m well. You?”

  “Good, thanks. My mum asked me to come. I’m not sure why.”

  “Yes, she did say she needs you for something urgent. But she’s very busy right now. Most of the guests have just arrived and Mr. Anton doesn’t like the flow of food and drinks to be interrupted.”

  “Okay… um… what do I do, then? Wait in the car?”

  Boyd sighed as another vehicle stopped near the front of the house. “If I let you in, can you go straight to the kitchen? The guests are all in the marquee at the back of the house.”

  “Okay.”

  Boyd opened the door for her. “Just go straight down the hall and to your right. Don’t go through the formal dining room. That’s where the guests are walking through to get to the back garden.”

  “Got it. Thanks so much, Boyd!”

  “And try not to show yourself to Ross,” Boyd added in a loud whisper.

  Bernadette nodded and quickly headed to the kitchen. It was buzzing with activity, with five people doing different things. Her mother was standing by the large kitchen island, transferring yummy looking finger food from a large caterer’s box to attractive serving trays.

  “Mum,” she whispered loudly.

  June looked up. “Oh, yes. Wait till I empty this thing.”

  Bernadette smiled shyly at the others as they glanced at her curiously, but no one asked a question.

  Thankfully, it didn’t take her mother long to finish emptying the box. A guy in a waiter’s uniform came in from a back door to take two of the trays June had filled, then went out again. Everything seemed to be going like clockwork—and June broke from the assembly line to drag her to what appeared to be a sunroom next to the kitchen.

  “Oh my God, you won’t believe this,” June said, looking flustered.

  “What?”

  To her surprise, June cupped her face.

  “I’m so sorry,” June said gravely.

  “What happened, Mum?” she asked impatiently, nervous at the tone her mother had taken.

  “Derek’s here.”

  “He is?” Bernadette asked with surprise.

  “With Holly Stirling, the singer.”

  Bernadette frowned. Derek had said he was showing properties to some overseas client tonight. Had he decided to attend a business networking function? “What do you mean he’s with Holly? Did they arrive together?”

  June shook her head. “They are together.”

  She stared at her mum. No. That couldn’t be.

  “Holly Stirling and Derek are girlfriend and boyfriend,” June elucidated. “I saw them with my own eyes embracing each other. And Mr. Anton knows about it. Apparently, they just got back together, so they must have broken up bef
ore. They’re keeping it a secret from the public.”

  Bernadette swallowed, her throat constricting just like her heart was. So the boyfriend Holly had spoken about the other day—the one who’d given her the scarf she’d lost—was indeed Derek.

  Bernadette heaved a ragged sigh, trying with all her might to control her emotions. How could Derek have lied to her like that? Why did he have to lie to her? He’d even told her the other night that he loved her.

  “I would have told him off for being an asshole,” June said with a huff, “but I can’t make a scene in here. I’m too scared of getting sacked. But the two of them are even thinking of staying here tonight—in one of the bedrooms!”

  “Does Derek know you saw them?”

  “Oh, yeah. He definitely saw me all right.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing. Just looked at me, then nothing.”

  Bernadette shook her head. She couldn’t imagine Derek being that rude, much less hurtful. But how could she explain what her mother had seen?

  “You should dump the bastard,” June said angrily. “If you have anything of his at our place, burn it to ashes.”

  “I think I’m the one who’s been dumped, Mum,” she said through watery eyes. “I just haven’t been told yet.”

  “Hi,” they heard a voice that was unmistakably Holly’s say. “Is Ross’s new housekeeper around?”

  “Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Stirling?” asked someone eagerly.

  “No, thank you. I just want to meet Ross’s new housekeeper. She’s put some lovely flowers in the vases and I just want to compliment her.”

  “Boyfriend-stealing bitch,” June muttered.

  Bernadette smiled. At least her mother was standing up for her. She needed that comfort right now.

  “I think she went over there with someone,” another answered.

  Bernadette took a deep breath to compose herself as they heard footsteps coming their way. Someone else was walking with Holly.

  Then they appeared. And Bernadette was eye to eye with the man who’d just broken her heart yet again.

  “Bern,” Derek breathed, clearly shocked.

  Bernadette blinked back tears. Part of her felt some satisfaction that Derek appeared totally lost—and Holly, too.