Escorting the Billionaire - Part 3

“What is it, Audrey?” Her voice was ice.

“I thought about what you said this afternoon,” I said. “About the Preston luck. I realized something. James had told me about his poor high school girlfriend, Danielle. He was explaining how hard it was for him to get close to a woman after what happened to her. Because that almost ruined him, Mrs. Preston. When Danielle died—I’m sure you know how difficult it was for him.”

“For a senior in high school, he dealt with the tragedy admirably,” she said.

“He said the same thing about you. That you did all the right things, made all the right donations.” I paused for a beat. “The other thing I remember him saying, though, was how inappropriate you were privately. That you told him her death was a blessing in disguise. That you said the ‘Preston luck’ had saved him from a poor match. That really stuck with me,” I said. “And then yesterday, when you mentioned Preston luck to me, I started to piece things together.”

“Audrey, dear, that martini’s gone straight to your head. You’re not making any sense.” She didn’t look vaguely rattled, but I didn’t let myself doubt my gut.

“The thing is, it hasn’t.” I took another big sip, which I desperately needed at this point. “You’ve threatened me several times now. And I finally believe that you mean exactly what you say. So I want to take you up on your offer.

“You offered to pay me. I accept. Except now, I’m dictating the terms. I will accept your payment, Mrs. Preston, in exchange for my silence on this matter. I’ve written several letters to the Boston media outlets—just in case something happens to me, you know? Like a head-on collision with a guardrail? That sort of thing. But if you pay me and you let me follow my natural path toward a happily ever after with your son, I will agree to never speak on the matter. Your secret will be safe with me.”

Celia Preston smiled at me and drained her drink. “You know, dear, I have much more experience with this sort of thing than you do.”

My stomach dropped while I waited to hear what she had to say. I drained my drink, too, wishing desperately that I could wave a waiter over. I already needed another one. I did not have enough courage for this.

“I anticipated something like this from you,” she said. “You might be smart, but you’re guileless. This was the obvious move, and I was expecting it. So in advance of our little impromptu meeting tonight, I called your mother, who is very much alive. We had an excellent conversation.”

My mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but no sound came out at first. “What?” I asked. “What did you say?”

“I said I called your mother earlier this evening. She and I had a lovely talk. About your family, your brother, your wretched treatment of her. And of course, her desperate living situation and her myriad of financial needs.” She smiled at me. “I explained to her that you were being difficult about parting ways with James.”

“Did you explain that you have a nasty habit of killing the girls James loves? The ones you deem inappropriate?”

Celia gave me another unfazed smile. “First of all, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Second of all, we didn’t get that far. What we did cover, however, was the fact that you recently had your mother removed as a responsible party for your brother at his facility. I don’t think you had the legal right to do that, Audrey. So I told your mother I would have my attorney—who’s excellent, by the way—look into the situation. And that you could be removed as his guardian permanently, and your mother could go back to being solely responsible for making choices for him.”

She beamed at me while I tried to catch my breath. “I also told her I’d be happy to put her on salary in exchange for her silence about your profession, as well as the fact that you were ever anywhere near my son. She agreed with everything. She was very accommodating.”

My heart was frozen, and I couldn’t say a word.

I could feel James watching me from across the room; my face must be white, all the blood draining out of it. “You didn’t do that,” I finally said. It only came out as a mumble.

“Of course I did, dear. And that was just a warm-up. I can stop it all, of course, but you have to do everything that I ask. Including not telling my son a word that I just said.”

She smiled at me in triumph as James stalked over to our table, his mouth set in an angry line. “What’s the matter, Audrey?” he asked, looking at my face.

“Nothing,” I responded, too quick and too sharp.