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The matter was more than she could ever imagine. Her grandmother had indeed been a wealthy woman, and she had left her entire estate to Olivia. There had been no mention of her mother or any other relative in her will. The money—just under seven million pounds, or the equivalent to about seven and a half million dollars—plus stocks and bonds in varying amounts—was more than enough to distribute among many other people. As a minimalist, Olivia had never considered money to be a high priority. She made a good living working for LCR, but her needs were simple. Much of what she earned went into the bank and to various charities. Now, she had more than she’d ever dreamed.
In addition to the money, she was now the sole owner of two houses—one in Milan, Italy, the other in the exclusive area of Camden in London. The houses had been maintained by an endowment, and according to Stitwell, both were move-in ready. For a woman who’d only ever felt at home in a little house in Virginia, and that had been for only a brief moment in time, the idea of owning two homes was a bit overwhelming.
She and Hawke had walked out of the attorney’s office and stood on the streets of London, both of them in total shock. Then, because it was all so incredibly ridiculous on all accounts, they’d burst into laughter.
An hour later, they’d boarded a plane Hawke had chartered and flown to Bermuda. A short taxi ride had delivered them to the docks where a boat had been waiting to take them to the private island. Years ago, when she and Hawke had first married, they had stayed here for a week. It had been glorious, and she was happy to see that nothing had changed.
While she basked in the sun, Hawke was checking in one last time with OZ, and then he would be hers for the remainder of their time here. What would happen after that, she didn’t know. They were together for the here and now, and that was all that mattered.
They both needed the rest, and she refused to allow worry over the future to mar the present.
A sound behind her had her looking over her shoulder. A slow smile spread over her face. Hawke, wearing nothing at all, appeared before her.
“Um…so clothing is optional?”
Grinning, he gestured to the empty beach. “No one around for miles.”
She’d never been shy about her body, but running around nude, even with just Hawke as an audience, was asking a bit much for a modest soul like hers.
“Maybe tomorrow.” Holding out her hand, she said, “Come lie beside me, you handsome stud.”
Chuckling, he dropped down onto the lounge chair beside her. Taking her hand, he leaned back on the chair and sighed. “That’s the stuff.”
“Yes, it is. Everything okay at OZ?”
“Yes. Other than the intel that OZ is running on-site, they’re officially shut down for the next few weeks.”
“Has Ash talked to Gideon? Does he know how Eve is? Where they are?” The way Gideon had mysteriously swept Eve away, without telling them where and why, still made no sense.
“Ash has talked to him and apparently gave him an earful. Gideon apologized for the haste and the secrecy, but he said he just wanted to get her away as quickly as possible so she could start healing. Which was the vaguest kind of bullshit I’ve ever heard. But that’s all he’d give him.”
“How is she? Can we talk to her?”
“Gideon would only say that she’s had surgery on her shoulder already. Says it’s going to be a long, slow recovery.”
She noted the shadow of concern in his eyes. “There’s something else. What is it?”
“Nothing really. Just a bit of a mystery.”
“What?”
“Ash said that both Eve’s and Gideon’s location trackers have been deactivated.”
That was huge. One of the requirements to work for OZ as an operative was to accept a tracker inserted in your arm. Operatives were often deep cover, and having the ability to track them was imperative when they needed aid. When she had left OZ, she’d had hers removed. She knew that Hawke had had his taken out right before he had disappeared.
But those removals had made sense—they’d no longer been OZ operatives. Gideon and Eve, however… “Are they not coming back to OZ?”
“I asked the same thing. Ash was a little sketchy on details, but he said he believes they’ll both be back after Eve’s recovery.”
She trusted Gideon. She knew there was no one who cared more for Eve than he did. Still, the situation seemed odd. “I wish I could see her, talk to her, hear in her own words how she’s doing.”
Hawke squeezed her hand. “I know. We’ll give them a few days and try again.”
“Okay.” She turned her gaze to the peaceful beauty before her and asked wonderingly, “Do you think Iris has turned over a new leaf? Maybe softened a bit?”
“Your mother is the most manipulative and conniving person I’ve ever met, so no, I don’t think she’s changed. There’s a reason for everything she does—even if it appears to be good. I don’t think Iris has it in her to be any different than who she is.”
That was likely true. It amazed her that she’d even consider that her mother could be softening. Hawke had her pegged right. Iris Gates was an opportunist in every way. Sociopaths didn’t switch to being Good Samaritans. Iris always had an agenda.
