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"This is all a bit vague. Did you have something specific in mind?"
"Oh, aye." Rory glances at Chance Dixon, who leans against the wall beside the window seat where his two brothers sit. "Why don't you explain? This was your idea."
"It was a group effort," Chance says. "Hugh, we've developed a strategy. Avery has a handle on your public image. We mean to save your company and get that bloody duke off your back for good."
"Brilliant. How exactly do you mean to do that?" Yes, I'm less than convinced. But I know these men, and I'm fully aware of their skills and connections. Maybe they can save Sommerleigh Sweets. I don't know, but I have nothing to lose by letting them try.
Evan MacTaggart, who had loitered in the corner leaning against the bookshelves, ambles over to his cousin's desk. "I have more money than all my cousins and these Brits combined. Over the years, I've cultivated relationships with many people who are in a position to help."
"Do you have a particular someone in mind?"
"Aye. A fellow billionaire who is both an angel investor and the CEO of a business incubator."
"Sorry. Business incu-what?"
"Incubator. That's a company committed to helping other businesses succeed." Evan rests his arse on the corner of the desk. "With your permission, I'd like to contact this person on your behalf. Would you be open to that?"
"Yes, of course. If you think your contact might help, I'll try anything. It won't be long before I have to start letting my employees go." Something occurs to me, and I have to ask, "What about Celeste Arnaud? She's a billionaire, and her granddaughter is married to Reese Dixon. Might Celeste help?"
"We thought of that, but this isn't her kind of business deal. She's a cosmetics tycoon."
Reese raises his hand. "I'd be happy to ask Celeste. She loves me."
"Let's try my contact first," Evan says. "While you were busy shagging your wife last night, the rest of us discussed Hugh's problems. The person I have in mind could be even better than Celeste."
Reese shrugs and relaxes against the window seat.
Evan glances at Rory, who nods to Chance Dixon. "Your turn."
Chance folds his arms over his chest. "Rory and I have devised a legal scheme to convince the Duke to give up his vendetta."
"How?" I ask. "He wants me dead—figuratively, I hope—but dead, nonetheless. So I repeat, how do you mean to talk him out of that?"
"Lawsuits, of course. Elena and I have already spoken to the Duchess, via video call. She seems rather eager to save you."
Reese chuckles. "Must've been one bloody great shag, eh? Guess Hugh deserves his nickname."
I ignore him and focus on Chance. "No offense, mate, but isn't your wife a paralegal, not a lawyer?"
"Yes. But Elena has the keenest legal mind I've ever come across. We're the perfect team."
"Donnae forget about Stephen Beckham at the Home Office," Rory says. "He's on board too for anything we might need."
Logan MacTaggart steps out of a shadowy corner in true secret agent fashion. "I'll leverage my contacts in the covert world too. The Duke is going down, laddie. Going down hard."
When I glance at Avery, she's grinning.
I arch my brows. "What's so amusing?"
"Your friends should star in their own spy movie. This is likeMission: Impossible."
To the Scots and Brits in the room, I say, "Forgive her. She's American."
Avery kicks my shin, though not hard. "Hey! This American helped save your British butt."
"That you did." I lean toward her until my lips graze her ear. Then I speak in a hushed tone only she will hear. "I'll show my appreciation, multiple times, when we're alone."
Chance clears his throat. "Getting back to the plan. You and Avery should go home to London and await further instructions."
