Game, Set, Match
23
L ogan, boy-toy with a tool belt, showed up Wednesday as scheduled and started the demolition of her little money pit. He flirted with her whenever she came downstairs. While eating his lunch at her kitchen table, he asked if she was ready to go out with him.
“Not yet,” she replied with pursed lips.
He countered, “When you fall off a horse, it’s crucial to get right back on.”
The next day, as he was preparing to leave, he tried again. “Everyone needs a transitional fling to help them get over the end of a bad relationship.”
She laughed at his suggestion. “If I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”
Maybe she should give Logan a chance…if she could only stop thinking about Gage’s commanding green eyes and the power they had over her. Despite everything, she still found him irresistible.
Realization struck—he still had her vibrator! She had half a mind to write and demand that he send it back, or at least reimburse her. The moment he fired her, that stupid requirement of no masturbation without permission went out the window.
There were no toy shops nearby, so she had to search for a replacement online. That shopping expedition led her down the rabbit hole of toys, bondage gear, and x-rated videos. It was his fault that dark and deviant thoughts plagued her. She had to figure out how to banish them—and him—forever.
Since the whole first floor was a disaster, Brynne spent her days in the window seat of the master bedroom with her laptop. Logan diverted the water so she could bathe upstairs, but her kitchen and all taps on the main floor were out of commission. Repairs would take weeks. Thank god for Declan, who let her bring her laundry to the hotel and invited her to take meals home from his kitchen. He was her knight in shining armor, just like he’d been for Josie.
Sunday night, she found it impossible to sleep, worrying about the meeting. MacCallum and his team would be there at two o’clock. Brynne struggled to zip up the only dress she brought and groaned at her reflection. The simple black sheath was ridiculously tight. She’d always had curves, but her weakness for Scottish pastries and other rich carbs from the restaurant had taken their toll. She was stuck unless she found something in her aunt’s closet.
A thorough search confirmed Josie’s clothes were too big, unless she kept up her unhealthy habits. On the bright side, she found fabulous accessories to enhance the outfit. Josie had expensive taste—and the Hermès scarf and Yves Saint Laurent clutch turned her ensemble from a mediocre to a wow. She took special care with her makeup and hair, and a pair of patent knee-high boots completed the ensemble. With little time to spare, she raced to town in the MGB praying the seams of the dress would hold up.
Brynne’s confidence faltered when she walked up to Alistair’s office and saw three fancy cars lined up out front. Few people in Skye drove these kinds of posh cars, so she knew they belonged to MacCallum’s well-paid legal team. A silver Range Rover, a black Mercedes, and a sporty blue BMW gleamed like they had just come out of the showroom. Whatever. They will not intimidate me.
Taking a deep breath, Brynne walked in. She could hear muffled voices coming from the boardroom and was glad Alistair was right there to greet her.
He grabbed her hands in his. “Brynne, you look lovely.”
“Thank you, Alistair. I wanted to look unruffled, no matter how I feel on the inside.”
“Well, you succeeded. Listen, there are three young lawyers with MacCallum . He arrived a couple of minutes before you. I will go in now. Take a minute, then make your entrance. You’re sitting at the head of the table. He is at the other end.”
“You’re brilliant. I like knowing the layout and where I’m sitting. I’m going to freshen up, and I’ll be right in.”
In the small bathroom, she stood with her hands on her hips and spread her legs as far as the slit in the dress would allow, and she prayed.
“You’ve got this, Brynne. Auntie Josie—I am calling on you to be with me. I will not show weakness. I will face this entitled dickwad and will not let him push me around.”
A little touch-up of her plum lipstick and she was ready. She swung open the door to the boardroom and stopped dead in her tracks. All five of the men stood and their eyes turned toward her, but she only noticed one pair. Her legs froze and her heart started stuttering. It was as if time stood still. She and the man at the end of the table spoke in unison.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
His lawyers looked disconcerted and unsure what to do. The young man closest to where she stood pulled out the chair for her. She ignored him and turned to look at Alistair. He’d leaped forward as if preparing to catch her if she fainted. To him alone, she whispered, “I don’t understand.”
Before he could respond, Gage spoke.
“Your aunt was Josephine Lamond?”
From somewhere within, she found her footing. She turned scathing eyes on him. “No shit, Sherlock.” A million questions swirled in her brain, but she couldn’t put them together.
Fury blazed from his eyes, and she wondered if his teeth would shatter from how hard he was gritting them. She seized the pregnant pause. “I guess you didn’t read the two hundred pages your crack legal team provided, Mr. MacCallum.” Her voice dripped with so much venom, one of the young lawyers audibly gulped. They looked like college boys dressed up in their Sunday finest. “Is Gage your stage name for the devious games you play in London?”
His upper lip curled in contempt. “It’s a shame, but I have to protect my identity from bad actors like you, Miss Larimore.”
Alistair touched her arm and looked on worriedly, urging her to take her seat. He must think she was going to tip over. Once the adrenaline stopped coursing through her veins, she just might.
Gage continued to stare at her, then finally spoke. “I’d like a moment alone with Miss Larimore.”
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 the Mirror .”
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 her estate 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.”
She ripped up the paper and headed out of the stuffy room. Brynne heard him call after her, but she flew out the front door like the hounds of Hell were chasing her. She ran to the hotel without looking back. Out of breath and dizzy, she hid in a booth in the back of the bar.
Myrna came over. “My, don’t you look the spiffy girl!”
“Thanks, Myrna. I need a drink please—a Hendricks and tonic. Is Declan around?”
“He’s in the kitchen. I’ll let him know you’re here, love. You look pale. Are you sure you don’t want some food?”
“I’m sure. Thanks.” She tried to smile but knew it didn’t hit the mark. Myrna’s creased brow gave away her doubt.
Declan arrived shortly after she got her drink.
Brynne held the glass with both hands, willing them to stop trembling. Declan sat opposite her and waited for her to speak. He was a good and patient man. Brynne took two more large gulps of her drink and met his concerned gaze.
“Gage MacCallum is Magnus. I mean Magnus is Gage. He…he’s the man I worked for in London. The one I…I fell for, who hates me. He’s here. He wants Josie’s place. He wants to pay me a ton of money to disappear off the face of the earth. Either that or a pile of cash to let him put cables in the ground. Did I mention he hates me? I told him to kiss my ass. I channeled Josie and basically told him no. Nobody tells him no.” She took a breath and held her face in her hands. “I’m not feeling good. I might need to puke.”
“Breathe, lass. You stood up to Goliath. I’m proud of you, and Josie would be, too.”
She peeked at him through her fingers. “Thank you, but all I did was wave a bright red cape at a furious and unforgiving bull.”
Gage watched Brynne fly out of the room and forced himself not to chase after her. He’d lost the upper hand the moment she walked in, looking gorgeous and furious. That dress accentuated her hourglass figure, and every man in the room took notice. It shocked him to see her with short hair. Now she was truly a pixie like Tink, with a fierce temper.
How the fuck did he miss that she was the niece? Because you walked in here, not having read the package, asshole. He’d shown up to the meeting cocky and ill-prepared, certain that Josie’s niece would back down and accept the very generous offer for the land and then kiss the old house goodbye. Why the hell didn’t his lawyers connect the dots when the same firm was handling both cases?
Alistair was a nice man, but he was out of his depth. Gage needed to exploit his weakness and find a way past her stubborn resolve. When he pushed for the redacted section of the will, she looked down to the right. He knew in his gut she was lying.
“Mr. Mackenzie, I think it’s safe to say that emotions are running extremely high under the circumstances. The fact that Brynne and I shared a personal relationship back in London has not helped matters. I wish I’d known she was Josephine’s niece. We could have avoided this misunderstanding.”
Alistair looked at him, his gray brows raised. “You were dating?”
“Yes, we were seeing each other before she came to Skye. Things ended rather suddenly between us, but I would never wish her any harm. I would like to try to resolve this—to her benefit and mine.”
Alistair nodded, processing that new piece of information, so Gage continued.
“I don’t want to tie up the estate needlessly. I think you can agree that what I am offering is very generous.”
He mumbled, “Yes, quite generous, but—”
Gage interrupted him. “I suggest we let Brynne calm down. After all, it was a shock seeing me. I won’t take any action for the next week, and I hope that she will see reason.”
Alistair fiddled with the large stack of papers in front of him, then he looked at Gage like a father would when a boy came to take his daughter on a date. “I will speak to her about the options you have presented; however, I hope your intentions are honorable, Mr. MacCallum. Brynne is a special girl. She was like a daughter to Josephine.”
“I understand. Rest assured, my intentions are honorable. I only wish to access the land so that we can provide reliable and affordable cellular and internet services to even the most remote inhabitants of the islands. This has been my dream for a long time. Many of these investments in infrastructure are funded by me personally.”
“I see.” The old man looked surprised, and Gage knew his plan was working.
“Do you mind if we use your boardroom for a few more minutes? I would like to consult with my team before we head out.”
“Certainly. Take your time. Good to meet you, gentlemen.”
Three heads nodded and mumbled their thanks as he left the room.
Gage waited for Mackenzie to be out of earshot before addressing his legal team.
“Jeremy, I need you to get the unredacted will before you leave here. I don’t care how you get it, even if you have to seduce his secretary.”
The young lawyer gawped at him. “I am sure that won’t be necessary, sir. I will make an official request under Section 57.5, Lodging of testamentary documents and filing of evidence. They must provide it if we plan to submit it to the court.”
“Whatever. Just get it. We will give her five days, and if she hasn’t caved by then, I want to turn up the heat.”
“Sir…” The one who had been mooning over Brynne was angling to speak.
When he continued flipping through the package, Gage glared at him. “Spit it out, kid.”
“Sir, we assembled everything to make this look solid and daunting to Miss Larimore, but you must know the case itself is very weak.”
“I am aware of that fact. What’s your name?” Gage pinned him with a steely-eyed stare.
“Benson, sir.”
“Benson, I know we won’t win this case, and I don’t expect it will ever get to a judge. I’m glad you took your eyes off Miss Larimore long enough to make a few salient points.”
He blushed. Gage shook his head, wondering if this was his first case out of law school.
“Yes sir. I just wanted to—”
“Just get me the document. I’ll be in touch.” He grabbed the stack of papers and strode out.
He considered stopping for a drink but thought better of it. His housekeeper would have stocked the bar and pantry for his arrival.
As he passed the hotel, a flash of auburn hair caught his eye. Brynne was facing away from him, but he knew her lush shape a mile away. She was embracing a man who looked old enough to be her father. He recognized Declan Fraser, the owner of the hotel. What are they doing together?
Gage turned back and hit the brakes hard, almost running a red light. His hands gripped the steering wheel. Had she already moved on to a new guy? Why do I care? He didn’t. It was a lingering annoyance at how she’d upended the meeting and refused the money. A glance in the rear view mirror showed them standing on the sidewalk. Declan’s arm was still around her. The investigator needed to hurry with the next report. He wanted to know everything. Too bad it didn’t come before the meeting today.
A loud honking woke him up. The light was green, and he was sitting there preoccupied. He hit the gas and headed out of Portree. He needed to burn off this anger and negative energy. Maybe the punching bag hanging in his loft would do the trick.
He pulled in behind the house and walked to the front deck to admire the view. The sun had drifted toward the horizon and the sky was a vivid swirl of oranges, reds, and purples over the darkening gray. This house was a passion project he’d started fifteen months ago. It was supposed to be a relaxing holiday home for him and Sierra. He snorted in disgust at how wrong he had been about her. None of that mattered now. They finished it and he planned to enjoy it as often as he could.
His deep connection to Skye went back to his childhood. Growing up, he’d often questioned why he had no father and no family here. At thirteen, Gage pressed his mother for the truth. She was twenty when she got pregnant by a married man who owned a company in Fort William, where she worked as a secretary. He seduced her, and although he could not—or would not—acknowledge her son as his own, he set her up in a home on Skye. The company had a large fleet of fishing boats in Portree, and he visited every week. However, when Gage was five, he died and left them with no support of any kind. She fought hard to hold on to the house and eventually went back to school to become a family lawyer. He admired her tenacity, but she was never an affectionate or nurturing presence in his life. Most often, he was left to his own devices while she worked two jobs to keep a roof over their heads.
She had a modern house near Elgol Beach, which sat empty most of the time. It was his temporary home during the construction of his place. The lack of decent network services was not just annoying, it was detrimental to business development and tourism on Skye, and he wanted to change that. The project’s success depended on getting access to the only viable path to the shore. Josie’s parcel of land was one of the few without layers of sedimentary rock and basaltic lava. Stunning rock formations were part of Skye’s rugged beauty, but you couldn’t bury cables in them.
Gage’s phone pinged. The email subject read Unredacted Will. He opened the message from Benson and read the attachment. His mouth dropped open in shock. He could not believe it and read it a second time.
Brynne must complete her revised manuscript within six months of my death.
Brynne must open her heart to a loving relationship and banish the three-date rule from her vocabulary.
She must endeavor to sustain a relationship with a suitable* man for a year.
Finally, Brynne should spend at least four months a year on Skye for the next two years.
Four insane conditions, two of which struck him as hilarious. Her definition of suitable made him laugh out loud.
Suitable: Intelligent. Kind. Successful (this doesn’t mean money). Honest. Preferably Scottish. Preferably Dominant.
Dominant? He’d known Josie was a firecracker and liked her the moment he met her. But why did she think her niece needed a dominant Scotsman? Yet another mystery to unravel.
They shared many a cup of tea while discussing their mutual love of travel, books, and the Isle of Skye. He only wished he’d discovered sooner how critical her land was to his plans—and that she was terminally ill. In April, he noticed how quickly she tired, but she dismissed it and told him she’d just gotten over the flu.
Imposing those requirements on Brynne was highly manipulative. He could just imagine her reaction. Josie had unwittingly given him the power to get what he wanted. Brynne was in for thousands of dollars of repairs and couldn’t access any real money.
The sun had almost set when he saw the MG fly past his house and down the hill. He smiled, knowing she was as shocked as he was today. It was only a matter of time before he regained control. He went into the house to pour a drink and plan his next steps.