Page 90 of Delicious Surrender

“Me too, J. Just realized I never asked you anything about yourself. I’m an awful friend.”

“Stop it. You are not. We will talk tomorrow night.”

“Okay. Love you.”

She hung up and checked her email. There was a note from Alistair advising that MacCallum’s legal firm was requesting a copy of the will and they would be available for a meeting in Portree next Monday. She begged him to take his time responding and to wait until the last possible minute to provide the will. He agreed and suggested they black out Josie’s special conditions for the inheritance. Brynne was grateful he thought of that. It would be bloody mortifying if they saw those.

In an abundance of caution, she asked him to minimize the use of her full name in the correspondence and instead refer to her as the beneficiary, the niece, or the estate of Josie Lamond. Alistair didn’t know the details of the London scandal, only that they had wrongly accused her of something horrible. It was best if they didn’t make the connection and paint her in a worse light.

Gage missed Edinburgh. With its stunning skyline, ancient castles, and cobbled streets, the city had a unique personality, unlike the never-ending sprawl of London. He loved that it had plenty of green space and a much slower pace. The best part was being able to walk from his place to the office in ten minutes.

His townhome had a much warmer feel than the Londonpenthouse because he’d kept many of the original architectural features. Not long after taking possession, he’d left for London to open Dominus. In a moment of weakness, he’d given the interior designer carte blanche. They created a spectacular combination of contemporary style while keeping the original charm of decorative cornices, lead-paned windows, and working fireplaces in every room.

Fiona had the fridge stocked, and the place aired out before his arrival. After being cooped up for days hiding from the press, his only desire was to walk to his favorite pub for a beer and some fish and chips. After he dumped his case and changed into jeans, Gage walked with a spring in his step, relishing the crisp night air. As he made his way up to George Street, he saw the sun setting behind the majestic castle on the hill. It was good to be home.

He sat at the bar and enjoyed a cold draught in the pub’s relaxed atmosphere. His phone buzzed. It was an email from the private investigator with a preliminary report on Brynne.

Born in Inverness on August 9. Family moved to Canada when she was eight.

Mother left eight months later. Father became an alcoholic and eventually lost his job. It was five years before he found full-time work.

Brynne won her first writing contest at age sixteen. She was accepted into a local college for journalism because of her entry essay, not her marks.

In the middle of her second year, her father was diagnosed with cancer, and she dropped out to look after him. She attended night school to complete her degree at the age of twenty-six.

A year or two of odd jobs and then she landed an internship at a Toronto magazine which turned into a junior copy editor job. Two years later, she was fired or quit because of an affair with the CEO of the media group. There was a link to the articles about his scandalous divorce.

At thirty, she moved back to the UK and got the job at theMirror.

Gage processed this info while he finished his meal. Did Brynne make a habit of sleeping with her bosses? Could she have been conspiring with the bumbling editor, Nigel? He would ask the investigator to get more detail from Toronto and see if there had been any attempted extortion.

They had no information on her mother’s current whereabouts. He found it strange that she abandoned her daughter. The PI said he would dig into her relationships and employment at theMirrornext and had some interviews lined up with friends from her college days. As he walked back to the townhouse, Gage suppressed the irritating pangs of sympathy he felt for her lousy childhood. Instead, he considered her motives for the story in theMirror. It was obvious her career had not taken off. She was thirty-two and had nothing to show for it. The other alternative was that someone offered her money or a position if she could get an exclusive on the club. He would get to the truth—one way or the other.

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