Page 3 of Her Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

“I will,” I said, promising myself that I wouldn’t let this opportunity pass me by.

The following weekend, I went out to Portafino, bringing Kyle with me in the baby-carrier, armed with a spiral-bound notebook and a pen. I watched the ships racing in the harbor, and spoke to their captains. I handed in a five-hundred-word article to Keith, two hundred words of which ended up in the Post on Monday morning, under my byline. The editor of the paper was so impressed that I’d managed to write it on my off-day that, the following week, I was promoted to Junior Reporter.

From then on, I didn’t think about Caluga Falls, or Conor, so much. I was so busy working that they slipped from my mind, while the years slipped through my fingers.

*

Ten years later, Winnie passed away. She didn’t have much in the way of family. But she was like family to me. I was heartbroken that the kindly old woman who’d befriended me wasn’t there anymore. She’d shepherded me through the dangerous, dirty city and looked after Kyle on long days and hot nights when I’d been out working, reporting on crime in the city, or traveling round the bay. I was a senior reporter now, and it had been a long time since I’d had to work a night shift.

I remember the day of her funeral so clearly. In the afternoon, I drove to the crematorium with flowers, and me and the five or six other people who knew Win sat in the cool chapel, stricken with grief. It was a warm day, the height of summer. As we said our goodbyes and I left the church, I got a call on my mobile from a number I didn’t recognize.

“Hello?” I said, picking up the phone. I assumed it was one of the junior reporters, or one of my contacts. At the time, I was working on a big story about financial fraud in one of the many tech companies that now populated the city center.

“Laura? Laura Solomon?”

“Yes, it is me,” I frowned.

“Look, I just wanted to call and say I’m so sorry,” said the stranger. “About your loss.”

My loss? “Thank you,” I said stiffly. “But, uh, who is this?”

“This is Gillian Francis,” said the lady. “You remember me, don’t you, dear? I’m your mom’s second cousin. From Caluga Falls?”

“Gillian!” I exclaimed.

It was the first time I’d spoken to anyone from my hometown apart from my brother in years. These days social media made it easy to keep in touch. But by and large, the story of the teenage runaway had passed into legend. Few people were interested in where I was and what I was doing. And I preferred it that way.

“Well, it’s a terrible loss, and I just wanted to let you know that even though we don’t live in Caluga anymore, we’re still coming up for the funeral, and—”

“Wait,” I said. “What do you mean? Coming up to Caluga?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I must have the wrong person.”

“No,” I said. “You don’t. But I haven’t lived in Caluga for twelve years.”

“Oh my God,” she said. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” I frowned. I heard Gillian take a breath, and then she spoke again, her voice shaking.

“Your father died yesterday.”

Chapter 2

Conor (Lucien)

“Lucien Barnes?” said the man in the dinner jacket, as I stood, looking at the Falls.

“That’s me,” I replied, turning around. I caught my reflection in the glass of the French doors, and wondered if it really was true. If all those things had happened to a completely different person.

“Jack Clark,” said the man. “From Turner Industries.” Jack was one of the many distinguished guests I’d invited up for my summer party. He must have had ten years on me, and yet he approached me with respect, and shook my hand heartily. “Thank you for having me and my wife tonight. This certainly is a beautiful place.”

“Thank you,” I said, and cast my eyes over the tower and the wide windows of Lakeview. My mansion was at the top of the Falls. I followed the curving hills with my eyes, into the distance. They bent over the estate of the Lovelocks, Caluga’s oldest family, down to the sharp jagged rocks at the top of the Falls. There, the river crashed and turned white as it tumbled down the sharp cliff face, where it joined Caluga Lake. It was something to behold in the evening light, with a few stars appearing where the sky was turning blue at the beginning of twilight.

“I must say, when Barbara told me we’d been invited to a party so far out of Seattle, I never imagined it’d be to the mansion of Washington’s youngest billionaire.”

“Well, we aim to please,” I said, gripping Jack’s hand in mine. I gave it a tight squeeze, but not too tight—I’d learned pretty early in my career that I had a vice-like hold. I guess I should have expected nothing less.

“If I may ask,” said Jack, mesmerized by the view behind me, “what made you choose this place to build a summerhouse? I mean, it’s not exactly on the map. And Freetown’s only what—twenty miles away?”