His Prisoner in Paradise. Trish Morey
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hand stilled on the handle. He saw her shoulders rise and fall on a sigh before she glanced over at him even as she pulled open the door. ‘Why wouldn’t I defend Jake? After all, he is my brother.’
Chapter Four
FLETCHER was her brother? She’d pulled the door closed behind her and disappeared before he could react, but it was shock that kept him rooted to the spot. Fletcher didn’t have any sister, not that he could recall. He’d certainly never mentioned one in all their years at college, not that they’d ever spent any time in idle chit-chat. Daniel had always been too busy facing up to the brash challenger who’d insisted he was as good, if not better, than him, Fletcher trying to prove it at every opportunity. Besides, she’d said her name was Turner—or was that just part of the ruse?
Nothing made sense.
Nothing but knowing that he should have handled the meeting with her a whole lot better. He would have, if he hadn’t been thrown off balance completely this morning by his sister’s email.
And now the mess he’d made of the meeting had grown a hundred times worse. Because Sophie Turner wasn’t simply a wedding planner, as he’d believed. She was Fletcher’s sister.
She should have told him. He glanced out of the windows in the direction of the street, caught a glimpse of the car as it pulled into the traffic before it was lost from view and swore under his breath.
But of course she hadn’t told him. She was probably in on the deal, no wedding planner at all but rather a convenient intermediary, no doubt expecting a cut for her part in playing a role and making the marriage plans look real. She’d probably be calling Fletcher already, telling him to expect an offer, advising him to hang out for a better one.
Or would Monica and Fletcher still be on their flight?
Maybe there was still time.
He snatched up the phone on his desk and punched in a number that would connect him with his head of security. It answered on the second ring, as he knew it would. ‘Jo? Caruana here. I want you to find out all you can about a wedding-planning business called One Perfect Day, and a Miss Sophie Turner who supposedly works there. I want financials, personal contacts and history, as well as details of family members of every employee, as fast as you can.’
‘Will do,’ came the rapid-fire response. Then a pause. ‘Do I take it congratulations are in order?’
From anyone else the question would not have been tolerated, but Jo had been with him almost from the beginning, their association going back to their high-school days together.
‘I’m not. But Jake Fletcher’s apparently got his hooks into Monica. They’re talking weddings, and Sophie Turner claims to be their wedding planner.’
‘Fletcher’s back?’ Daniel heard the squeak of his security head’s chair as he sat to attention. ‘You want me to sort him out, boss?’
Daniel had anticipated just such a reaction. Jo hated Fletcher almost as much as Daniel himself did. But then Jo was the one who’d been waiting at the airport when Daniel had returned from Italy in time for Emma’s funeral. He was the one who’d kept him together when they’d learned the results of the autopsy. And he was the one who’d stopped him marching into Fletcher’s hospital ward and pulling him off his life support.
He appreciated the loyalty, but while once upon a time he’d have settled contests with his fists, those days were gone. These days he preferred to use subtler, even if more expensive, means. Not that he couldn’t afford it.
‘He’s already flown the coop and taken Monica to Hawaii—and left the wedding planner to convince me the wedding’s kosher, no doubt to secure a higher settlement.’
‘Like hell it’s kosher! Okay, boss, I’m onto it.’
‘And Jo—something else you should know.’
‘What’s that?’
‘The wedding planner, Sophie Turner, she’s claiming to be Fletcher’s sister.’
Jo whistled through his teeth. ‘I never knew Fletcher had a sister.’
‘Neither did I. That’s one of the things I want you to check. If she’s not his sister, she’s probably in on some kind of percentage from a settlement to make him disappear. And if she is his sister…’
‘Given her scum dog of a brother, she’d be even less trustworthy.’
‘Exactly what I was thinking,’ Daniel agreed before he hung up, still leaning over his desk, hauling air into his lungs as his brain made the connections. Fletcher had to have taken Monica to Hawaii for two reasons—first, to ensure nobody could arrive in Brisbane while Fletcher wasn’t around and bundle her on the next flight back to Cairns to talk her out of making the biggest mistake of her life, and secondly to suck her further and further into his web.
Meanwhile the sweet Miss Turner had the job of playing the supporting role at home to make it look like the wedding was real, no doubt in the hope it would crank up any pay-off offered to Fletcher.
He growled. If she’d been speaking the truth, then he’d had Fletcher’s sister right here in his office and he’d let her walk away. God, he’d even held her in his arms and all but kissed her. Fletcher’s damned sister. What had he been thinking?
But he hadn’t been thinking then, not beyond the silkysmooth perfection of her skin, the unusual blue of her eyes, and the tantalising scent of woman.
So much for wanting to make a point about the irrationality of things happening too quickly. If she hadn’t stopped him, if she hadn’t pushed him away, he doubted he could have stopped himself.
Not the point he’d been trying to make at all. But Monica’s news had thrown him for six. No wonder he hadn’t been thinking straight.
But he was thinking straight now.
The old and familiar competitiveness cranked back into life. Fletcher would soon be sitting in his five-star hotel suite waiting to hear from his sister about Daniel’s reaction, rubbing his hands together in glee while he waited for a nice plump offer for him to disappear to drop into his lap.
The last thing he’d be expecting would be for Daniel to join in the game. If Fletcher wanted to play ‘whisk away the sister’, why couldn’t Daniel do likewise?
Maybe he should just whisk away one Miss Sophie Turner for however long it took.
And he sure as hell wouldn’t let her go again until he knew Moni was safe.
He glanced at his watch. They should be nearing the airport by now. Miss Turner would be thinking she was just about home free.
He picked up the telephone again, punching in another number and smiling for what felt like the first time today, already anticipating her confusion. ‘Cedric, there’s been a change of plans…’
Sophie pushed back into the butter-soft upholstery, willing herself to relax. She’d almost turned her back on the car waiting for her when she’d emerged from the lobby. She’d had enough of Daniel Caruana for one day, and she’d wanted nothing more to do with him and his. But the driver had greeted her with a friendly smile and, much as she resented his boss, she’d had no reason to be rude to an innocent driver—especially one who was probably smiling in relief because it wasn’t Mr Arrogance himself that he was picking up. Besides, she’d had no idea how long it would take to wait for a taxi this far north of Cairns, and the sooner she made it to the airport, the better chance she would have of catching an earlier flight back to Brisbane.
So she’d allowed herself to be handed into the spacious interior of the luxury sedan, satisfied at least that every minute took her another kilometre from Daniel Caruana.
She sighed and dropped her head back against the head rest, closing her eyes and wondering what she was going to