Immortal Billionaire. Jane Godman
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manner that hid his intolerance under a guise of genuine interest. No one, Sylvester had determined, would ever be able to say the master of Corazón had a “heart of malice.”
Now he tightened his grip on the anger that wanted to become a frenzy. He wanted to fire questions at Connie about what had happened to cause those scars and that haunted, hunted look he saw in her eyes every now and then when she thought no one was looking at her. He also wanted to storm and rage at a set of circumstances that had brought him this dilemma.
All the pathways in his well-ordered life had been leading him here. Everything he had ever done since that first conscious memory had brought him to this point and now he was confronted with...what? Not a change of plan. That can never happen. So Sylvester kept his anger to himself, finished his meal and maintained his role as the perfect host.
Sylvester was aware his guests were all speculating on his story about the curse of Corazón. Oh, they were too polite to do so openly. The conversation over dessert was all about the weather, the Floridian cuisine, this island chain known as Corona de Perlas and the activities and sightseeing they hoped to engage in during their stay. But the undercurrent was tangible. The atmosphere had changed the moment Sylvester mentioned his reason for inviting them. Behind the polite chat, each one of them was wondering why they were here and what they could gain from their visit.
The temptation to keep them guessing a while longer was almost irresistible, but Sylvester hadn’t brought them here to toy with them. No matter how grasping the light in Lucinda’s eyes or speculative the expression in Ellie’s, they were here for a reason. He might as well get this over with.
“We’ll take coffee on the terrace, Vega,” he said when everyone had finished dessert.
The marble-tiled terrace overlooked the beach. Comfortable furnishings reflected the golds and blues of the seascape and climbing plants trailed colorful fingers over the wrought-iron balustrade. Waves washing onto the shore and the light breeze rustling in the trees provided a backdrop of sound, breaking the silence that fell over the group as they realized the time for the truth had arrived.
Sylvester noticed Connie hung back until she saw where he was sitting before deliberately taking the seat furthest from his. He felt a pang of annoyance at such obvious reticence and then dismissed it. It suited him not to have her close by. Her nearness disrupted his equilibrium, something he needed for the task he was about to undertake.
Vega took her time serving coffee and liqueurs and then, after checking she would not be needed again, left them alone.
“It must have seemed strange that I chose to invite you, a group of complete strangers, to join me in my home.” Looking around him at their faces, Sylvester could see each of them was hanging on his every word.
“We are not all strangers,” Lucinda pointed out with something approaching a pout. “Guthrie and I have met you once before, remember?”
Ignoring her comment, Sylvester continued. “I asked Arthur Reynolds, Matt’s father, who has been my trusted attorney for many years, to trace as many of my relatives as he could who were between the ages of twenty-five and thirty. They had to be of sound mind and body, have no criminal record, no dependents and no marital ties.” Sylvester smiled as he looked around. “You are the people he found who fitted those criteria and who were able to come to Corazón on the dates I had specified.”
“It did seem a little—” Ellie appeared to search for the right word “—unusual. But I thought it was a charming idea.”
You are a liar. Sylvester refrained from saying the words aloud. He wondered what her reason for being here was. Probably money. That’s what it usually came down to.
“And so to my reason for inviting you. I have decided the time has come to make my will.” There was a faint ripple of interest. Yes, I thought that might grab your attention. “I have no heir, no one to inherit Corazón or the fortune that goes with it. My reason for asking all of you here is simple. I intend to leave my estate divided between as many of you as I consider worthy of it.”
There was a brief, stunned silence, broken only by the high-pitched chipping sound of a distant osprey.
“Well!” It was Lucinda who spoke first, her voice cutting through the silence like a razor-edged knife. “I would have thought it was fairly obvious who Corazón should be left to, without any need for this drama. Guthrie and I are your nearest relatives, after all.”
“Yes, but you will note I said I wished to leave my estate to the person, or people, I consider the worthiest.” Sylvester ignored her outraged expression. “Most of you can be said to have some claim of birth, however remote.” He allowed his eyes to skim quickly over Connie. Her link was so tenuous it was almost nonexistent, but there was no need for the others to know that. “Matt is here to oversee the legalities. Being a relative himself, he is also included in my proposition.”
“I’m an employee. There is no need to include me in this,” Matt protested in embarrassment.
“There is every need, if I choose to do so.” Sylvester’s voice was smooth. “There is just one condition. It is simple and not negotiable.” Everyone went very still. Sylvester was reminded of those old black-and-white movies. This was like the scene where the detective gathers everyone together and unmasks the murderer. Cue dramatic music.
Everyone was waiting for him to continue speaking. “In order to be included in this proposal, you must remain here at Corazón, as my guests, until my thirtieth birthday in thirty days’ time. Those of you who are still here to raise a glass on that day will be named in my will as my heirs and will inherit an equal share in my fortune. As for the island itself, I will leave that to the individual I decide is worthiest of it.”
“Seems a decent arrangement,” Guthrie said. “I, for one, am quite happy to live in the lap of luxury at your expense for the next few weeks, Sylvester.”
“I thought you might be.” Sylvester kept his voice perfectly even, although his eyes dropped briefly to the empty liqueur glass in Guthrie’s hand.
“But you’ve said people tell such strange stories about Corazón.” Lucinda cast a theatrical glance over her shoulder at the dark beach. “How do we know we will be safe here?”
“If you have the slightest fear about staying under my roof, you have only to say the word and Roberto will have the launch at your disposal within the next half an hour.” Sylvester’s words cast a hush over the terrace. His meaning was clear. Stay and risk the hidden dangers that are rumored to lurk within these heart-shaped shores. Go and forfeit your share of a fortune.
The atmosphere changed in that instant. It had become a competition.
* * *
After dropping his bombshell, Sylvester went away, leaving his guests on the terrace. His departure provoked a storm of conversation, one from which Connie remained detached. She didn’t feel part of this strange arrangement, so she didn’t feel she had any right to comment. Or maybe her inclination and willpower weren’t strong enough to insert herself into the storm.
“It’s ridiculous,” Lucinda was saying sulkily. “And probably illegal.”
“If my father is advising Sylvester, it’s certainly not illegal,” Matt commented. For some reason, his words didn’t seem to reassure Lucinda.
“We’ve all sustained a shock. I think a drink is in order,” Guthrie said. “I’ll go and fetch us something.” Eagerly, he hurried away.
“What is Sylvester worth, do you think?” Ellie glanced around each of them in turn.
“Billions.” Jonathan’s voice was calmer than the others. “The exact amount would be speculation.”
Ellie’s eyes sparkled. “So all we have to do is sit tight, and we each get a share of that. And one of us will inherit this island, as well.”
“When Sylvester dies,” Matt pointed out. “He’s a young man.”
“But