Page 111 of Owned By a Billionaire

“None.” She sighed. “I saw you were hiring at Elysium, and once I was there, I waited for the right time. Saw an opportunity and took it.”

What I didn’t tell Mary was that I’d been looking for Meghan Marwood myself. At Reynard’s funeral, I saw Helmut and asked him about Rey’s stepsister.

Helmut had given me the name and, wearing a frown, asked, “Why go there? The man’s dead.”

Snapping out of that thought, I added, “I want to give you all the support I can. You see…” I tangled my hands. “I went through a similar experience.”

Mary, whose face had stayed blank even in the telling of her troubling childhood, winced.

As I told her my story, she shook her head. “Did ya kill him?”

I shook my head. “No, he died of cancer, I believe.”

“Mm. Hope it was slow and painful.”

We stared at each other and smiled, bleak as that sentiment was.

“I want to support you all the way,” I said. “And by that, I mean to buy you a nice place and set up an account.”

Her brow creased. “You don’t have to do that, Mrs. Lovechilde.”

“Let’s not talk about that again. Now, will you speak to my legal team?”

She gave me a sad smile and nodded.

Comowasaspristine,sun-drenched, and splendid as always, the lake calm and oblivious to the roller coaster of life. As I ambled by that fairytale lake with Mark’s arm linked in mine, I felt complete.

I’d bought back the house that Mark had lived in with his former partner.

“How did you wangle it?” he asked as we walked back to our new home.

“I just made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.”

He stopped. “It doesn’t worry you that I lived here with Lilly all those years?”

I shook my head. “Ghosts don’t worry me anymore.”

“And you really think you want to live here? Away from Merivale?” he pressed.

“We can mix it up a little. There’s a nice big family yacht moored at Cannes that I’ve not been on for years.” I tilted my head. “Maybe a trip to Venice. A slow trip. What do you think?”

A wide smile grew on his handsome face. “I’m happy anywhere you are, Caroline, really. If you wanted to live at Audrey’s bedsit for a year, I would be happy there, too.”

I scrunched my face. “No chance of that.”

He took my hand, and we went inside.

“I could use a siesta,” he said with that suggestive grin of his.

My body fired up, burning with the anticipation of making slow, beautiful love.

THREE MONTHS LATER

A gondolier paddled by, belting out a tune to an amused pair of tourists, as I sat outside enjoying the sun on a balcony overlooking the Grande Canale.

Just as I closed Mark’s book, he joined me, and I gave him an appreciative nod. “It’s marvelous.”

One of those rare creatures who found compliments tricky to navigate, Mark frowned and smiled tightly at the same time. His eyes in the sunlight were the color of honey. “You’re not just saying that?” He hadn’t even wanted me to read his book in the end, fearing I’d hate it.

---