Page 5 of Her Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

My heart raced, and then the woman stepped out from under the street lamp. Light cascaded over her black hair, so black it stood out under the lamp. Her face, aged by the years, still carried grace and beauty. And the cold, blue eyes stared out at me from the darkness, sending a chill to my heart. I was looking at a ghost. At the mirror image of the woman who’d broken my heart twelve years ago this day.

“Please?” she said. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

I stepped back into the shadows. It couldn’t be her. And yet it could be no one else.

I wanted to call out, wanted to tell her it was me. But the physical shock had frozen me in place. And besides, it was hopeless. There was no way she’d recognize me. I barely recognized myself these days. Even if by a tiny chance she remembered me, there was no way she’d accept me. I kept myself back in the dark of the driveway to hide my face, hoping she wouldn’t see me, or figure out who I was.

“Sorry?” said Laura, peering at me through the bars of the iron gate.

I turned away. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears as I began to walk up the driveway. I wanted to stay, wanted to see her, but I knew I couldn’t.

“Wait!” she called. “Come back!”

But I ran. I barreled through the front door and span around, snapping the latch shut. It was a pointless exercise—the gate was locked, there was an electrified perimeter behind the high hedges and fences, which closed me in. But I still locked the door—and double locked it, turning the key and hearing the bolts snap shut, and stayed by the door, huffing. As though the woman on the road could have walked through walls and into the silent halls of my house like a ghost.

Chapter 3

Laura

“Well,” I said, as I stood on the doorstep. “Manners have certainly gone downhill since I lived in this town.”

“The guy really didn’t even say anything?” Kyle said. I smiled weakly and ruffled his hair. He was growing tall now, and had celebrated his twelfth birthday this year. I couldn’t believe that my baby boy was going to middle school in a few weeks.

“Nope,” I sighed, hefting the last of my enormous suitcases up onto the porch. “He lives in that eyesore up the hills, by the Falls. Must be some view.”

As I was yanking the last of the bags through the stairs, I heard a thud. My brother, David, bounded down and stopped on the last step.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s, uh, it’s great to see you.”

“Great to see you too,” I said flatly, as I stepped towards him. It felt weird to hug my brother after all these years. He’d been, what, twenty-one since the last time we saw one another? But I was astonished at his appearance.

“You look like Dad,” I said, breaking into a smile. But I saw David’s eyes dim a little as he leaned on the banister of the staircase. I knew it had hurt him that I hadn’t even shown up for my own father’s funeral. It hurt me too. I decided to change the subject.

“So, how’s he been?” I said, gesturing at Kyle. My son was entering his teenage years, and it wasn’t treating him all that kindly. I’d had to put up with a few moods more than once or twice. Especially when I told him that we were relocating to Caluga Falls.

“He’s been just fine,” glowed David. “Huh, nephew? He hates it when I call him that,” he grinned conspiratorially at me.

Kyle sighed, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. But I could tell he was enjoying the attention. I knew it would be good for him to come up here and spend some time with David, even if he was worried about fitting in at his new school. Besides, we both knew that there wasn’t really much choice.

“Okay,” I said, clapping my hands. “It’s time for you to go to bed, mister.”

“Oh come on,” said Kyle.

“Come on and get up those stairs, you mean,” I said, giving him The Look. When you’re the single parent of a boy you become a master of The Look.

“All right,” he said, and sighed, trotting up the stairs.

“See you tomorrow, kiddo,” said David.

After Kyle had gone up to the second floor, I turned and looked at the two big suitcases. It was amazing that after twelve years in another city, most of my possessions could be crammed into two flight cases and a holdall. I guess I’d gotten used to living ad-hoc in my years as a reporter. Maybe a little too ad-hoc.

“What were you two talking about?” said David, as he led me into the kitchen. There was still some salad and a bowl of carnitas left over from dinner, and I gratefully tucked in.

“Just this guy up the road,” I sighed. “The Uber driver dropped me off at his place by mistake. I think I typed in Lakeview instead of Lake Way.”

“No way,” said David. “You must have seen Lucien Barnes. Or his doorkeeper, or whatever.”

“Who’s Lucien Barnes?” I said. I would have remembered a name like that, I was sure.