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THE BILLIONAIRE'S AFFAIR 221
Connor and I were still talking about the evening as we settled into bed. We’d recently gotten a pair of silk pajamas and split them between us. I was wearing the top, and Connor was looking hot in just the bottoms.Even billionaires like to economize.Their fiancées like it even more, when economizing shows off the man’s gorgeous chest and rock-hard abs.“See? He’s changed,” I insisted as I crawled into bed.“No he hasn’t.”I looked at Connor in disbelief. “Are you serious?”“Okay…” Connor relented. “Maybe he’s softened. Some.”“Weren’t you shocked when he said that stuff about Miranda?”Connor looked troubled. “Actually… yes. That was the part that surprised me the most.”“Aren’t you glad that he finally sees her for what she is?”“I would… if I didn’t know from experience how dangerous that can be.”“Well, now you have an ally. And one you thought was an enemy.”“I guess.”Under the sheets, he put his hand on the inside of my thigh and lightly brushed his fingertips upwards.“Hey!”
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Johnny, Sebastian, and I sat in the back of the limo, all of us hastily dressed, all of us watching Connor with fear and concern. My fiancé sat next to me, staring out the window, his face blank and pale as a waxwork figure.Outside the window, the lights of New York City flashed by in the early morning darkness.“He had a heart attack on the way home,” Sebastian explained quietly. “His limo driver took him directly to the hospital, but… it was too late.”Connor just stared out the window. He didn’t say anything.“We don’t have to do this now,” Sebastian said. “His limo driver identified him to the authorities, so there’s no reason to – ”“I want to see him,” Connor said, his voice monotone.“We could wait until later this morning – ”“I want to see my father.”Sebastian acquiesced. “Okay.”“Has anyone notified my mother and brother?”“Yes, the hospital did, but they’re out of town.”“He said that,” Connor remarked, like it was a mildly interesting fact he’d just now remembered. “He
THE BILLIONAIRE'S AFFAIR 223
My father’s body lay there on the slab. They’d put him in a black body bag that was unzipped halfway down his chest.It was strange to see him like that. I hadn’t seen him in a bathing suit since I was a kid, so seeing him now, half-naked and exposed, was very strange.Almost as strange as seeing him dead.His skin was pale and white with a light blue tint to it. His eyes were closed, like he was sleeping.Curiously, I didn’t feel anything. That body on the slab wasn’t my father. My father was alive; my father was an oil baron, a titan of industry, a king among billionaires. This thing that lay in front of me… it was just a husk. Just an empty shell. It was the mask without the soul behind it.My father was gone.The doctor was saying something. “…likely heart attack… blood screening… report in a few days…”“Okay,” I said, hoping it would shut him up. I didn’t want to hear anymore.The doctor peered at me closely, like he was looking for some sort of sign. Like he was worried. “Do yo
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Almost exactly a week later came the reading of the will. My father wasn’t even in the ground yet, and the vultures descended to pick over the carrion.To be fair, with a business empire that large, there were certain questions that had to be settled quickly. My father had been a day-to-day participant as CEO, not just a ‘once a month’ Chairman of the Board. Someone needed to head up the various companies that comprised the Templeton Group. Not to mention, the politics of the situation would be significantly altered depending on how his controlling share of stock was divided.Two weeks before, I wouldn’t have cared. I would have just assumed everything would pass on to Mother, with Vincent in the CEO role as a sort of puppet, and Miranda pulling all the strings.Dad had said essentially the same thing: We both know the truth. Your mother, strong as she is, isn’t a businesswoman. And Vincent is a weakling. Miranda will overpower them both and ransack everything for her own gains… which
THE BILLIONAIRE'S AFFAIR 225 Lily
The funeral was on Sunday. Vincent and Lenora had opted for a service in an Episcopal church, even though none of them were Episcopalian – strictly because it was one of the most beautiful structures in all of New York. Like a medieval cathedral, with all the majesty that implies.Sebastian had handled all the arrangements, and had spared no expense. The flowers were ethereally beautiful. Orchids, lilies, white roses. Next to the mahogany casket on the dais sat an incredible oil portrait of Mr. Templeton, done in the style of an old-world master. He looked even more like a king in that painting than he had in real life.Sebastian was at the front of the church, coordinating everything, directing people – basically doing what he does best. Johnny hovered in the background, trying to shadow me without freaking out any of the funeral attendees. The rest of security was being handled by Connor’s Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.Besides our friends, some of the richest people in New York –
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Five hours later, we waited in a small visiting room at the police station: me, Sebastian, Johnny, and Bert Glasser, the best criminal defense lawyer in New York City. Connor was a personal friend of his; now he was a client.The door opened, and Connor walked in, escorted by a guard. Connor was wearing an orange jumpsuit. It pained me to see him treated as a criminal – this man I loved, who hadn’t done a damn thing. Worse than that, though, were the manacles around his ankles and wrists.The first thing that happened was Connor shot me a comforting smile. It’s okay. Don’t worry.The second thing that happened was Bert Glasser started yelling.“Is this really necessary?” he shouted, gesturing at the manacles. “That was a rhetorical question, by the way; the correct answer is no, it’s not. Unlock my client right now.” The guard looked uneasy. “I was told – ”“Let me tell you something. I had a client last week, charged with killing two people in a home invasion, and you guys didn’t b
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“Oh my God,” I whispered.“So Marta or Vincenzo?” Sebastian asked.“They’d make the most sense, seeing as they’ve both conveniently ‘disappeared,’” Connor said, then turned to Bert. “This has to be enough reasonable doubt to get me acquitted.”“Maybe. It’s pretty conspiracy theory-ish, though, so you never know how that’s going to play with a jury. But that’s not the most pressing problem we need to deal with right now.”Connor laughed bitterly. “Making sure I don’t go to jail for killing my father isn’t the most pressing problem we’ve got?”“It’s the biggest, just not the most pressing.” Bert sighed. “I think they’re going to try to deny you bail.”Connor stared. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”“I already talked to the DA. You’re a billionaire with limitless resources, charged with murder. That makes you a flight risk, and he’s going to press the judge for no bail.”“You think the judge will agree?”Bert raised his hands and shrugged, like Who knows?“This is bullshit!” Connor raged.
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Johnny and Sebastian were long gone. Thirty feet away, Bert was arguing with someone on the phone as we stood in front of police headquarters. Connor’s bodyguard Armin stood with me, scanning the surroundings for any potential threats. I thought about telling him not to bother, that if Miranda wanted me dead she would have had me poisoned at my own dinner party.But then I remembered that poisoning Connor’s father had evidently just been part of a giant Rube Goldberg machine to land Connor in jail. Miranda’s plans were impossible to predict, so I kept my mouth shut and let Armin scan away.A phone call came in – Anh, back in Los Angeles.“Lily, I just saw it on the news – is Connor okay?!”“No. We think Miranda’s framing him for his father’s murder.”“WHAT?!”I spent a few minutes running down the major details. Finally I ended with, “It’ll be okay. We’re going to find some proof that he didn’t do it, and it’ll all be okay.”I sounded more like I was trying to convince myself than her
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