Page 92 of Delicious Surrender
The trio of suits looked ready to flee. She turned to the lawyer at her immediate right, who was staring at her. “Please stay. I do not wish to have a moment alone with Mr. MacLeod—I mean MacCallum.” She stopped herself from calling him Master Gage, the king of turd hill.
They looked wide-eyed from her to him and back again. Gage smiled, the way Lucifer might smile as he welcomed you through the gates of Hell. She imagined horns and fangs springing out of his face any second. He spoke in that voice that burned her eardrums with its disdain. “Allow me to let you all in on the joke. Miss. Larimore worked in my London club as a cocktail waitress until a few weeks ago, when I fired her for breach of trust and confidentiality. She was behind the libelous article in theMirror.”
More quiet intakes of breath. And some serious fidgeting from Alistair. She sat down and leaned forward, gripping the worn table. “So, you still think I wrote that article?”
“Indeed, I do.”
“Well, that settles it. You really are a self-absorbed bastard.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
She tucked her trembling hands in her lap. “You believe I came to work at your club solely to meet you? And that I put up with all that crap to get some juicy gossip to publish and get myself fame and fortune?” She paused for a breath. “Only a conceited prick would make it all about him.”
Gage sat back in his chair. Every muscle in his face was rigid. “Are you quite finished, Brynne?”
The raw hostility in his gaze seared her skin, but Brynne refused to look away. She squared her shoulders. “No. I’m afraid you came all this way for nothing, gentlemen. My aunt put me on the title of the house over a year ago when there was no question as to her health or sanity.”
She was pleased with herself. It was time for this to be over, otherwise she might need a paramedic.
The cutest lawyer, whom she thought she’d won over, cleared his throat. “Actually, the house is of little consequence. Your aunt’s investments and royalties from her catalogue of books make up the bulk of the estate’s value.”
Brynne felt the blood drain from her face for the second time today. She looked over at Alistair, her eyes pleading.It’s up to you, big guy, don’t fail me now!
He pushed his glasses up his nose and began. “I will easily prove that Ms. Larimore did not influence her aunt’s wishes. She was the closest relative to Josephine for the last two decades. Furthermore, she had no other family members to leave herestate to.”
The lawyer, whom she was fast beginning to hate, cleared his throat again. She sighed in annoyance at the nervous tic, and they all waited for him to speak.
“There is one other familial party who would stand to inherit some of the estate.”
“What? Who?” Brynne burst out.
He had the decency to look sheepish. “Your mother.”
Brynne made a harsh, unladylike sound and clung to the edges of the table for support. Her eyes narrowed at Gage and then the young lawyer. “You’ve got to be kidding me. She is a ghost. No one has heard from her in years.”
Gage rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers to his lips. His eyes bore holes into hers. “We will endeavor to find her.”
Brynne raised her chin. “Like I said. Good luck. I think we’re done here.” She pushed her chair out and leaned down for her purse.
“Not quite.” Gage’s voice was low and quiet and deadly calm. “We requested the will last week, but only received it today.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “What of it?”
“There is a portion omitted. We need the redacted section.”
Brynne thrust her chin out. “It’s a personal note from my aunt, and not relevant to this discussion.”
“Everything in the document is relevant…unless you will consider a revised offer.”
They placed a piece of paper in front of her and Alistair. She scanned it, her eyes glossing over all the legal mumbo jumbo. It was an offer of 85,000 pounds for the right to dig on her land, bury fiber optic cable, and a commitment to return the land to its pre-construction state afterward.
Gage cleared his throat and spoke. “Perhaps that is a compromise you can live with. And if you change your mind about selling, I will up the offer on the entire property to 650,000 pounds.”
Brynne looked up, her eyes glittering. “You think after the way you’ve bullied me, I would do anything to benefit you?”
“If you accept this offer, I will withdraw the contestation of the will.”
“I’ll take my chances in front of a judge. And you, Mr. MacCallum, can kiss my ass.”