Page 7 of Bride Under Contract

‘I’ve heard from Arif.’ He saw Jonathon’s slight frown and explained. ‘He co-ordinates all the research and rehabilitation projects from the property.’

‘Was his father the man who rescued you?’

‘Bashim.’ Carter nodded, although he did not want to get into all that. ‘Arif told me there’s been a lot of activity around the property. There are drones going up, aerial shots—’

Jonathon interrupted him. ‘Benedict can’t sell the property without your consent.’

‘Can he lease it out, though?’ Carter asked.

‘There it starts to get messy, but the short answer is no.’

Carter chose not to wait for the long answer.

‘Arif has heard some talk. Apparently, there are discussions underway for the location to be used as a base for a television reality show. There’s also talk of a movie...’

Jonathon shook his head. ‘Not without your say-so. As well as that, they’d never get permission.’

Jonathon started to launch into how tightly controlled the land was, but Carter was already ahead of him.

‘Given my grandfather’s standing, the officials might trust that Benedict is doing the right thing.’ He told Jonathon what he knew. ‘There are location scouts and television executives staying at some of the resorts.’ Then Carter told him what he thought. ‘I doubt they’d bother going if they didn’t think there was a chance...’

‘Benedict’s probably relying on you backing down. He must know you can’t bear—’ Jonathon halted. ‘Well, that you haven’t been back once since the funeral.’

Carter pulled the stopper from a decanter and when Jonathon nodded poured them both a drink. But unlike Jonathon, Carter couldn’t sit. He walked across his lavish office and leant his tall frame against the thick glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking towards the East River now.

‘If you don’t want to spend the next few years fighting through the courts, then maybe it’s time to let the place go,’ Jonathon suggested. He didn’t do sentiment either. ‘It’s always been a headache...you lost your parents there...’

‘And my brother,’ Carter reminded him, because in all this the real innocent party tended to be forgotten. ‘He should never have been there in the first place.’

‘No.’

It was a rare admission from Jonathon, who had handled his parents’ affairs before they’d been transferred to Carter. No one had dared to speak out against the Bennetts at the time—it had been far easier to let that little detail slip from the articles.

Slip from people’s minds....

His brother’s name had been Hugo, though he’d been affectionally known as Ulat. It meant worm, and was a sweet term the locals gave their newborns who, for superstitious reasons weren’t named for many months. Carter, when he had been born, had been known as Ulat too.

Still, the hungry international press hadn’t bothered to find out about the local ways. It had been easier to file a piece citing his father as a hero for trying to save his gorgeous wife and infant...more lucrative to focus on the miracle of Carter’s survival after he’d spent a week alone in the jungle rather than query their questionable parenting choices...

Carter sorely wanted an end to his own private torture, but neither could he turn his back completely. ‘Tell Benedict I’m willing to negotiate.’

‘You’re sure?’

Finally, with a last warning that he was being too generous, Jonathon shook Carter’s hand. ‘Leave it with me.’

Carter couldn’t, though.

It gnawed at Carter’s guts. It crept under his skin and interrupted his mind.

His gaze moved down to the busy Manhattan streets below. Yet his mind was still drifting back to Borneo. To the wild untamed rainforests...the hot, humid air that could make New York seem positively mild by comparison. He thought of the Iban people, their longhouses along big stretches of river... And then he thought of production companies, carving up the quiet waters. Sure, there were tourists, but rules were strict and the locals were both protected and protective.

‘Ms Hill...’ Carter buzzed his PA. ‘Can you please reschedule Prince Sahir?’

Carter paused. This change of plan was something he truly didn’t want.

‘And if you could also clear my schedule for the week and arrange transport to Sabah.’

‘When would you—?’