Читать книгу A Fortune's Children's Wedding - Barbara Boswell - Страница 9

“I ’ve located your missing granddaughter, Kate,” Flynt Corrigan addressed the Fortune matriarch before turning to her son Brandon. “We’ve found your daughter, Brandon.”

“Nice work, Corrigan.” Sterling Foster, Kate’s attorney husband, nodded approvingly at Flynt, then laid a supportive hand on her shoulder. “Another grandchild! Congratulations, Kate, my dear. Oh, and, er, congratulations to you, too, Brandon,” he added quickly.

Flynt studied Brandon Fortune, assessing his reaction to newly discovered fatherhood. Once he’d confirmed the news, Flynt had come to the Fortune family’s estate. Kate had brought everyone into the study to hear his findings.

“So it’s really true?” Brandon was clearly stunned. He sank into a chair and ran his hand through his overly long blond hair. His skin, tough and leathery from too much California sun and surf, had turned ashen beneath his perpetual tan. “All of it, Flynt? The daughter? The threats? It’s all true?”

Flynt felt a surge of sympathy for the man. Brandon Malone Fortune, third son of Kate and Ben Fortune who’d built the multi-international Fortune Corporation and founded a dynasty, had led a very strange life indeed. Learning that he was a father at this late date—and the victim of a blackmail threat—was another startling chapter in it.

“It’s all true, Brandon,” Flynt assured him.

“Brandon has a daughter! How wonderful!” Kate Fortune was smiling. Even though she’d only learned about this possibility a few days ago, she clearly didn’t mind the revelation. “Except for the threats, of course.” Her smile faded. “Who could have sent that note to poor Brandon? It’s beyond cruel—first informing him that he is the father of a daughter and then threatening to kill that daughter and frame Brandon for the murder unless the Fortune family pays.”

“Terrible,” Sterling muttered, heading over to the bar in the study. “My poor Kate.”

Flynt glanced at Brandon, who still seemed to be in a state of shock. Sterling handed his stepson a shot of brandy, which Brandon drained in one gulp.

“I’m a father,” mumbled Brandon.

Flynt took his cue to proceed with the information he’d gathered. “Your daughter’s name is Angelica Carroll, Brandon, and she is—”

“Carroll?” Brandon sat straight up in the chair. “Romina?” He jumped to his feet. “But I haven’t seen Romina Carroll in years. Years!”

“Romina Carroll is the mother of your daughter, Brandon,” said Flynt. He was more than a little surprised that Brandon remembered Romina Carroll at all, given that it had been decades since the two had been together. And from his own investigation, Flynt had learned that Brandon’s list of female companions down through the years had been—well, numerous was one word that came to mind, which was something of a diplomatic understatement.

“You remember this Romina Carroll, Brandon?” Sterling Foster seemed to be speaking Flynt’s own thoughts aloud. Flynt met the older man’s wry gaze with his own.

“Of course I remember Romina!” Brandon began to frantically pace the room. “She was my high school girlfriend! Well, she didn’t go to Beverly Hills High School with me, she lived in East L.A. We met on the board-walk in Venice Beach one day when we’d both ditched school. It was like love at first sight for us and we—we were each other’s firsts, you know? You just don’t forget that! We went together for two years, longer than I’ve ever been with any other girl.”

He slumped back down onto the sofa, scowling. “Romina dumped me when she was sixteen and I was seventeen. I took it hard, and after that I never saw her again. Now, you’re saying she was—she was—” He couldn’t seem to get out the word.

“Pregnant,” Flynt said it for him. “With your daughter, Angelica, who is now twenty-six years old.” He reached into the file he was holding and retrieved a photograph. “Here’s a picture of Angelica, taken by one of my investigators. It was shot with a long-distance lens so the quality isn’t very good…” Before handing it over to Brandon, Flynt couldn’t resist taking another look at it himself.

Though it was grainy and not too clear, Flynt had spent an inordinate amount of time studying that photograph. He wasn’t sure why. She was pretty, that was quite evident despite the somewhat blurred black-and-white telephoto shot, but he’d never been the type to drool over pictures of pretty girls. Not that he was drooling over Angelica Carroll, Flynt promptly assured himself.

He was intrigued by the concept of her. That had to be it, Flynt decided. As a former FBI agent, he had naturally slipped back into full Bureau training mode, which required an eye for detail in a case. His eyes had certainly detailed Angelica Carroll, he acknowledged a bit sheepishly.

So he provided himself with another rationale. In his current role as president and founder of Security Management Services—SMS to the industry—he knew it would be good business to commit to memory everything to do with this case, because it involved the Fortunes, one of the most prominent and successful families in the country. Therefore, he had seared Angelica Carroll’s face into his memory, along with the facts he’d learned about her.

“Angelica is unmarried, has no children and works as a nurse-midwife at MetroHealth, a university-related hospital in Birmingham, Alabama.” Flynt recited the facts.

Brandon raised his eyes from the photo. “What about Romina?”

“Romina lives in Birmingham, too. She has three other children, all younger than Angelica. As for the threatening note you received—”

“Do you think it’s possible that Angelica herself might have sent Brandon the threat, Flynt?” asked Sterling. “Or perhaps the mother, Romina, sent it in a bid to cash in on the, uh, Fortune connection?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Flynt. “There is that possibility, of course. I haven’t met either of them. I thought I’d give you this information first and let you decide what to do with it before I proceeded any further.”

“Brandon must meet his child,” Kate decreed. “And if Angelica or her mother sent that awful blackmail threat—well, we shall deal with that misguided bid for attention later.”

“Kate, I consider a blackmail attempt to be a criminal action, not simply a misguided bid for attention,” countered Flynt. Breaking the law was a personal affront to him.

Kate shrugged. “I propose that Brandon go to Birmingham immediately to meet his daughter, and that you go along with him, Flynt. For protection as well as for moral support.”

She stood beside her son and fondly ruffled his stiff, dry hair. It was a maternal gesture, one that she’d been unable to make when Brandon had been a child because she hadn’t known him as a child. She hadn’t known him until he had come back into her life some nine years ago because he had been taken from her as an infant. Pain shot through her, as it always did when she thought of the terrible fate that had befallen Brandon—and herself.

For years she had lived with the horror; her newborn baby boy had been kidnapped and despite a ransom payment, had never been recovered. And then nine years ago, the truth—and Brandon—had surfaced, breaking Kate’s heart all over again. Brandon hadn’t been kidnapped at all. He had been secretly given away to the legendary movie star Monica Malone by Ben Fortune, Kate’s first husband and Brandon’s father at the end of their tempestuous affair. Obtaining Brandon had seemingly satisfied Monica’s obsession to have a child by Ben. And Ben had never considered it necessary to mention the affair or the kidnap hoax or the baby boy to Kate ever again.

Brandon had been raised as a spoiled, yet emotionally neglected, Hollywood kid by the narcissistic movie siren. And though Kate had been overjoyed to have Brandon back, his upbringing had resulted in traits that annoyed or infuriated other members of the Fortune family whenever he visited from California. He had yet to be fully accepted by his siblings and his numerous adult nieces and nephews.

“Bad karma, huh, Mom?” Brandon stared up at her, seeming to read her thoughts. “I mean, Monica blackmailed Ben into handing me over to her and now here’s my own kid and more blackmail. I wonder what gives? What do you think, Flynt?”

Flynt was not one to delve into the arcane mysteries of karma. Now that he’d located Brandon’s daughter, which had been a personal request from his friend Gabe Devereax, husband of Kate’s youngest daughter, Rebecca, his mind was back on the business of running SMS. “I’m sorry, Kate, but I won’t be able to go to Birmingham with Brandon. That really isn’t the sort of work that—”

“I believe your company has handled some computer surveillance for the Fortune Corporation in the past,” interjected Kate. “But your firm does more than investigate electronic espionage, doesn’t it?”

“SMS provides a full range of services,” Flynt said eagerly. His company was his pride and joy. “We’re very well regarded in all branches of the security field.”

“Well, I have every confidence that we can arrive at an agreement that would be mutually advantageous to your company and ours, Flynt.” Kate easily resumed the executive mantle she’d worn for so many years. “One involving the full range of security services provided by SMS.”

“Kate, are you attempting to bribe Corrigan with a comprehensive contract for his Security Management Services?” quizzed Sterling. He didn’t appear to be averse to said bribe, however.

“My offer is to turn over all corporate security matters for the Fortune Corporation worldwide to SMS,” Kate said, spelling out the terms. “I’ll run it by Michael and Caroline—those are my grandchildren who are the company’s chief executives,” she added to Flynt in an aside, “but I’m certain they’ll agree.”

The offer—okay, so it really was a bribe—swirled in Flynt’s head. What an opportunity! The Fortune Corporation would be the most lucrative, prestigious account in his fast-growing business.

“Let me get this straight.” Flynt was pleased to hear how steady his voice sounded, as if he fielded fantastic offers like this every day. “SMS gets to handle all the Fortune Corporation’s security if I go to Birmingham with Brandon and set up a meeting between him and his daughter?”

Which meant that Brandon wouldn’t be the only one to meet Angelica Carroll. Angelica’s picture flashed before his mind’s eye. A thrill of anticipation jolted through Flynt, shocking him with its force. That the thought of meeting the unknown Angelica seemed to be engaging his interest as much as the extraordinary corporate opportunity was more than a little disconcerting. It was so unlike him. Work was—and had always been—his consuming interest.

“Not quite, dear.” Kate smiled shrewdly. “It’ll take time for Brandon and his daughter to connect. One meeting simply isn’t enough. Flynt, I’d like you to stay in Birmingham while Brandon and Angelica get to know each other. Then we’ll sign the contract.”

“And is the contract contingent upon a happy ending to this tale?” Flynt drawled. He should’ve known there was a catch. There always was. “Because if there is, I’m not interested. My time is too valuable to waste chasing rainbows.”

“You’re too young to be so cynical, my dear,” Kate reproved.

Flynt grinned in spite of himself. He was thirty-six, and it had been a long time since someone had told him he was “too young” for anything. He liked Kate’s take-action style. But not enough to accept the job unless the terms were sweetened in his favor.

Apparently, Kate realized that. “As much as I want Brandon’s relationship with Angelica to develop into a lasting one, I realize it might not happen.” She sighed. “The contract isn’t contingent on a happy ending, but there must be time and effort on your part to help their relationship along, Flynt. However, if Brandon and Angelica are simply incompatible, it won’t be your fault. We’ll sign that contract, regardless of the outcome.”

“It’s an extremely generous offer,” said Sterling. “If I were legally representing you, I’d urge you to accept it, Corrigan.”

It took Flynt all of one minute to follow Sterling’s advice. “With computers and faxes and phone conferences, I can temporarily run the business from Alabama as well as from anywhere. I’ll schedule a trip to Birmingham with Brandon,” Flynt said decisively. “Is tomorrow too soon to go, Brandon?”

Brandon wore the expression of a man poised on the ledge of a building, trying to decide whether or not to jump.

“Tomorrow would be wonderful,” Kate answered for her son. “Isn’t that right, Brandon?”

Brandon’s panicked eyes met Flynt’s, who took pity on him. He gave him a bolstering, fraternal pat on the back. “Brandon, pack your bags. We’re heading for Birmingham.”