Harlequin Romance March 2021 Box Set Cara Colter (the mitten read aloud TXT) 📖

The man’s grieving, she told herself.

‘Your grandmother didn’t leave you a letter,’ the lawyer said.

Her heart shrank. No letter? Then—

‘But she has left you a comfortable nest egg. The trust fund totals five million dollars.’

As if money made up for not knowing her grandmother, her family. As if—Whoa!

‘What?’

‘In all, the value of the apartment block and the trust fund totals more than twenty million dollars.’

She gaped at him. It took a moment before she could find her voice. ‘You cannot be serious? In your letter you told me I’d inherited her apartment—not an entire apartment block. Twenty million dollars? That’s not a comfortable nest egg. It’s…outrageous!’

‘Agreed.’ Owen’s mouth tightened and he flung himself back in his seat. ‘It is a lot of money, Ms Nicholls.’

‘Callie,’ she corrected automatically.

Her grandmother had left her ridiculously wealthy. But why? None of it made any sense. She wanted to drop her head to her hands. Instead she pushed her shoulders back. A letter would’ve made things easier, but she wasn’t giving up. She’d uncover the mystery of her family’s past if it was the last thing she did.

But apparently she’d do it as a wealthy woman.

Only if you keep the money.

The thought filtered into her brain and stuck there.

Did her mother know about all this wealth? She had to know. And yet she’d scorned it throughout the financially difficult years of Callie’s childhood. She’d chosen to work hard and struggle alone on her small wage rather than rely on her family’s wealth and support. She continued to shun it still.

There had to be a reason for that. A good reason.

Her mother had always said rich people made up their own rules—subscribed to a different moral code than the rest of the world, thought they were above everyone else and untouchable. And she hadn’t meant it in a flattering way.

It appeared she’d been speaking from experience.

If that was the case then maybe Callie shouldn’t accept the legacy? She didn’t want to profit from a family that had victimised her mother.

She clenched her hands so hard her fingers started to ache. Dragging air into cramped lungs, she focussed on her one definite course of action and the reason she’d come to New York in the first place—to piece together her family tree. That would help to keep all the emotions at bay—the panic, the hope, the fear. Once she’d traced her forebears she’d be able to put together a step-by-step account of how she’d done so. She was hoping that would earn her a prestigious research position with the TV series Mystery Family Trees.

That was all she needed to concentrate on for the moment.

She’d think about the money later.

Besides, once she’d found out the truth she’d know what to do with the money, right?

If she kept it… She swallowed. If she kept it she’d never have to work again. It was like being handed a winning lottery ticket. But she couldn’t imagine not working. Not working was wrong on way too many levels.

She’d loved her previous job. For good or ill, it had defined her. A familiar anger fired through her. She pictured the look on Dominic’s face when he found out she’d won the TV job—the knowledge that in having her fired from her university position he’d pushed her to win the job he most wanted… Oh, there would be something so Karma-perfect about that.

Her heart slowed and satisfaction warmed her veins. Her success would chafe him from the top of his too-tight shirt collars to the soles of his feet. How sweet that would be.

‘Spending the money already, Ms Nicholls?’

The words were said lightly enough, and from someone else they might even have been teasing, humorous. But there was an edge to them…an edge to Owen Perry. Still, people grieved in different ways. She had to make allowances for that.

‘Not yet, Mr Perry. Believe it or not, my mind was far more pleasantly engaged.’

‘On?’

She couldn’t stop her smile from widening. ‘Revenge,’ she purred.

And it would serve Dominic right for every self-serving second of his mean-spirited treachery.

Common wisdom said revenge was a dish best served cold, but she wasn’t so sure. She was still furious with Dominic, not to mention the head of the history department at her university back home, and revenge fantasies were her greatest source of satisfaction at the moment.

She’d never considered herself particularly hot-headed or grudge-bearing before, but now she knew differently. Now she knew she’d simply never had a reason to be hot-headed. And apparently, given the right set of circumstances, she could hold a grudge like a champion.

‘How…delightful.’

Owen Perry’s drawl snapped her back. Concentrate. She had a family tree to unravel and she needed a trail to follow.

‘Mr Dunkley, may I have a copy of the will?’

‘Why?’

Owen Perry leaned towards her as he spoke, and for the first time she noticed the innate sensuality in the disturbingly firm set of his mouth. It made things inside her flutter and twitch. With his square jaw and grey eyes, Owen Perry was a disturbingly attractive man.

‘Curiosity, I suppose.’ And because she was searching for breadcrumbs. But she didn’t say that out loud. ‘Is there any reason why I shouldn’t see the will?’

He sat back with a shake of his head. ‘Of course not.’

She did her best to ignore him after that. She had a sneaking suspicion jet-lag was catching up with her. Maybe that was why she’d become so aware of him. Jet-lag could be making her misinterpret the vibe he gave off. After all, the man had no reason whatsoever to dislike her, did he?

It wasn’t easy to ignore him. Owen wasn’t a diminutive man—he had broad shoulders and a long, lean frame that put him at just over six feet. And he was hard too—muscled, as if he worked out. And all that bristling masculinity vibrated with an intriguing intensity beside her.

She moistened her lips. ‘Were there other bequests?’

Other bequests meant there’d be other people she could talk to about Frances—and even