Page 1 of Up for Heir (Westerly Billionaire 2)
Prologue
Desperate times call for desperate measures, but surely I can do better than this.
Seated at her Queen Anne writing desk, Delinda Westerly tapped her perfectly manicured nails absentmindedly and studied the bold redhead across from her. “You don’t look like a detective.”
The woman pursed her wine-colored lips in a childlike pout that didn’t diminish the intensity of her gaze. Her tan pantsuit was understated but tailored to fit. Expensive camouflage. She reminded Delinda of a Siamese cat she’d once had who purred and preened but pounced mercilessly and without warning. “That’s the goal, wouldn’t you say?”
“Victor Andrade said you’re the best.”
“I am.”
“He said you work with Dominic Corisi. Considering his reputation, that’s hardly reassuring.”
The detective maintained unblinking eye contact. “And yet, here I am.”
Delinda sighed. “Yes.” She picked up a black card that had only the woman’s phone number written in white. “It’s a delicate situation. No one can ever know I was involved in this part.”
“A secret assignment. My favorite kind,” the woman said with a smile.
“Cockiness leads to sloppy mistakes, and I have no tolerance for either, Alethea Narcharios.” The redhead arched an eyebrow. “Did you think I didn’t know your real name?” Delinda tapped her nails again. “Rule number one in any engagement: never underestimate a person’s connections. The Andrades are close friends of mine, and they consider Corisi one of their own. I know all about you. The
background report your friend Jeremy gave you about me? I helped him write it.”
Alethea’s eyes widened, then she threw back her head and laughed. “It felt too perfect. Well played, Delinda. Not many people surprise me.”
“I really don’t see what you find amusing.” Delinda narrowed her eyes. “According to Victor, you are dangerously curious, often manipulative, and consider yourself above the law.”
Looking more intrigued than insulted, Alethea leaned forward. “Something tells me those are traits we share.”
After pressing her lips together briefly, Delinda circled back to her concern. “I can’t afford another mistake. I need to know I can rely on your discretion. Money is no object if this is done well.”
“You’ve been misled if you think I care about the money.”
Delinda wanted nothing more than to dismiss the brash redhead. Unfortunately, I need her. “It’s about my grandson, Spencer. I thoughtlessly said something last year that hurt him deeply. I hoped that reconciling with his mother, Stephanie, would be the bridge back to him, but as personally cathartic as that reunion has been, it hasn’t helped with Spencer. He is distancing himself from the whole family, determined to prove he doesn’t need anyone. His older brother, Brett, is getting married soon, and Spencer has announced he won’t be attending. I want him at that wedding.”
With a look of amusement, Alethea said, “How exactly would you like me to change his mind?”
Delinda took a photo out of her desk drawer and laid it down, facing Alethea. “Hailey Tiverton. She and Spencer dated in college. Stephanie said it ended abruptly, and Spencer pined for her for a long time. She’s the only woman his mother thinks he’s ever really cared about. I want you to find out why they broke up and bring me a full report on her. If I approve of her, you’ll arrange for her to come work for me.”
Alethea smiled slowly. “Delinda Westerly, you’re a romantic at heart.”
In response, Delinda touched the tablet on her desk to wake it and then turned it to face Alethea. She gave the woman a moment to absorb the headline of the online article, as well as the photo of Spencer leaving a club, looking as disheveled as the scantily clad woman on his arm. “I want my grandson back—he’s a good boy. Not this. He’s miserable.”
“He doesn’t look miserable.”
Delinda spun the tablet back. “Are you interested in helping me, or not?”
The PI took a moment, as if she were debating the same question. “I am.” She paused, then asked, “When you said I’ll ‘arrange for her to come work’ for you, what did you mean?”
“This is where your skills come into play. You’ll close every door around her until I’m the only choice she has.”
“That’s a dangerous game.”
Delinda stood. “And here I thought dangerous was your forte.”
“It is.” Alethea rose to her feet. “I’d just hate to see you hurt by this.”
Raising her chin, Delinda answered, “My dear, at my age, pain is a friend of mine. Time is the enemy. It has been a year. My grandson needs a shake-up, and if he felt half as much for this woman as his mother thinks he did, I’ll have him married and in my life again by the holidays. First, though, we need to get him to attend Brett’s wedding. It’ll break Brett’s heart if he’s not there.”
Alethea whistled. “I have to admit, I admire your confidence.”
Confidence or desperation? It didn’t matter. “Michael,” Delinda called out to her butler, “please show Ms. Narcharios out.” Before the detective left the room, Delinda added, “I’ll expect that report by the weekend.”
Alethea nodded before turning to leave.
Alone, Delinda sank back onto her chair and picked up the photo of the woman she’d sent Alethea to investigate. Bring Spencer back into my life and you’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted—in abundance.
Hurt him again and you’ll discover exactly how much fight is left in this old broad.
Chapter One
Hailey Tiverton reached across the taxi seat and took the hand of her seven-year-old niece. “It’s going to be okay, Skye. You’ll see. I hear there is a private beach, and you love the ocean. The guesthouse is twice the size of my apartment in Mendon. We’ll be happy here. You’ll see.”
Her niece didn’t say anything, but she’d hardly said a word in the year since her parents died in a car accident. Just thinking about it had Hailey clinging tighter to the child that her brother, Ryan, had entrusted her to raise, a little girl she was still desperately trying to reach. “I know you didn’t want to move, baby, but we’re not that far from our old place, and we didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t afford the rent hike and . . .” I lost my job because I’ve used every last one of my sick and vacation days to be with you. Hailey let out a shaky sigh. Skye didn’t need to know how frustrating the months of unsuccessful job hunting had been or why they’d taken a taxi instead of the car Hailey couldn’t yet afford to fix. Things were just about to turn around for them. Working as a personal assistant for an elderly woman after being a purchaser in retail was hardly a dream come true, but it promised good pay and stability.
Life had an odd way of circling back to what a person preferred to forget. It figured that the woman who was stepping in with a job offer when Hailey most needed one shared the same last name as the man who had done nothing for her when she’d needed him the most.
Spencer Westerly.
No. I refuse to do this to myself. I haven’t thought about him in years and I won’t start thinking about him now.
Yes, he had the same last name as the woman who’d hired Hailey, but Spencer needed odd jobs to scrape together enough money to buy used equipment for his garage computer lab. His mother was a nurse. His father had been a physical therapist. Delinda Westerly, on the other hand, was an heiress with a mansion by the ocean. Doesn’t mean anything. All it does is remind me of another time in my life when I felt this lost.
But losing Spencer taught me that I didn’t need him to survive. It made me stronger.
“This will be good for us,” Hailey said, as much for herself as for Skye. Beyond the modest pay, the job included housing along with, most importantly, health insurance.
Parenthood had come suddenly and without instructions. After the funeral and a rough week of realizing how little her brother had planned for such an event, Hailey had tried to get things back to normal for Skye.
As if that were possible after such a devastating loss. Hailey had sought the advice of friends and counselors at Skye’s school. So many conflicting opinions. In the end, Hailey had found an apartment in Skye’s school district so her niece could have consistency with friends and her teacher.
A good plan, until Skye had refused to go to school and when forced, had reacted with such despair that more experts were brought in. Skye completely shut down then—refusing to speak a single word. No one expected it to last, but it had.
In the end, on the recommendation of the school and her therapist, Skye began homeschooling with a certified teacher. Months later, Skye was still withdrawn. She refused to see any of her old friends or speak. Hailey was beginning to panic. The therapist Skye saw once a week was expensive, even with insurance. Financially, they’d been sinking even before she lost her job.
This is a fresh start for us. The therapist said Skye was over the worst of it and that the rest would simply take time. Skye’s teacher, Mrs. Tillsbury, said she was working above grade level as long as all assessments were done in writing. All Skye seemed to enjoy was reading—and only the books Hailey had taken from Skye’s old home. Hailey had tried to speak to Skye about Ryan and Erin. Skye withdrew from any mention of them, but she would sit and listen to Hailey read the stories they had read to her. Hailey didn’t know if those stories made it easier or harder for Skye to heal, but she felt Ryan would want her to keep his memory alive.
Hailey hadn’t expected that the hardest part of raising a child would be the uncertainty of doing any of it right. The therapis
t accepted Skye’s silence and her quiet nature, as her teacher did, because they hadn’t known the free-spirited, boisterous child she’d once been.
But I did. Hailey blinked back the tears she refused to give in to. Don’t give up on me, baby. I may not have known what to do at first, but I’m learning as fast as I can. We’ll figure this out together. She looked out the window briefly to regain her composure. The taxi pulled off the street and turned onto a massive driveway that led to a stone-fronted mansion. One paycheck and I’ll have my car repairs done. Every step forward is one where we don’t fall back.
Even though it felt intimidating to just pick up and move into the guesthouse of a woman she’d spoken to only briefly on the phone, Hailey forced herself to be optimistic. The job had come like an answer to a prayer. Two weeks earlier, on the way back from a disappointing interview, Hailey had found a newspaper on the bus seat beside her. It had been folded open to the employment section, and this job had been circled. The description had fit exactly what she needed. Fate? A message from Ryan? She wanted . . . no, needed to believe so.
When the taxi stopped in front of the house, a stately-looking older man in a gray suit approached the vehicle and opened the door. Skye’s hand tightened on Hailey’s.
“Welcome, Ms. Tiverton. My name is Michael.” He offered his hand to help Hailey out.
Before taking it, Hailey looked back at Skye. Their eyes met and held. “We need this, Skye. Trust me. Please, honey. I know it’s hard, but I love you. Home is wherever we both are.” Skye nodded solemnly and scooted out of the taxi as Hailey did. Skye seemed afraid, but she was putting on a brave face. Hailey wanted to hug her, but she was afraid it would reduce them both to tears.
