Page 56 of Conning the Billionaire
The British voice said, “I’m communing with the deer in my estate’s deer park, wondering which of their ancestors was eaten by King Henry the Eighth.”
“I find myself in need of some information. It seems Kylie Miller has a sister we didn’t know about, in addition to her father being murdered.”
“A sister? We found no evidence of her having a sibling.”
“Kylie has mentioned her at least twice, and she doesn’t seem to know where her sister is. The sister could be a liability. We should find out where she’s gone and perhaps secure her.”
Arthur said, “I’ll have my boys find out what we can.”
“Kylie Miller may need documents and pocket litter.”
“Not a problem. Wait, which nationality?”
“American. She won’t pass for British.”
“Perhaps a problem. I’ll consult with our cousins and see what can be done.”
“Also, I’m going to need half a million US in cash,” Micah told him.
“I beg your pardon.”
As the voice of Lord Finch-Hatton, the Earl of Severn, echoed in his head, the posh British accent that had been imposed on Micah in high school found its way into Micah’s words. “I’m giving her the half a million US we negotiated in cash.”
“We’ve already deposited that amount at Banque Ammann, and so on.”
“I’ll be wiring it back. She doesn’t trust banks.”
“Neither does Her Majesty’s government,” Arthur said, chuckling.
“I’ll need the first quarter of it by Monday. It’s absolutely imperative,” Micah said.
“We don’t do cash.”
“Yes, you do.”
“We don’t do it for assets who haven’t proven their value.”
Anger flowed through Micah’s body, an energizing imperative, and he stood. “She’s exactly what we need. She can introduce me to Grande’s organization, and everything falls from that like dominos. We’ll have results in weeks or months, not years.”
“If you succeed.”
“Arthur, old chum, if I don’t succeed in bringing down Salvatore Grande,” Micah’s British accent faded, and his native New York one surfaced, “I’m gonna be sleepin’ with the fishes.”
17
OH, HONEY. NO
KYLIE
After Kylie had slammed three cups of hotel syrup-coffee and Micah had finally finished his morning toilette, Kylie flounced into the bathroom and turned on the shower, and then she sat on the toilet to whisper into her phone. “I’m so sorry.”
Her phone had been blowing up since two o’clock in the morning the night before when her friends had realized Kylie hadn’t made the rendezvous.
“Seriously, where were you?” Rita demanded, her eyes worried. Her voice sounded tinny coming from Kylie’s cheapo phone. “We sat in that car for forty-five minutes before we finally got your lame-ass text about how you were pulling an extended game on some guy. Priyanka said she saw you with the blond Italian who ghosted you. Please, for the love of God, tell me that you didn’t go back for seconds.”
“Well,” Kylie said, waffling.
“Please, no,” Priyanka said. “Please, dear God, no. I tried to text you to tell you to get away from that dude. Please tell me that you didn’t spend the night with the dude who tried to rip you off for eighty grand.”
