Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“That’s the spirit!” Zack cheers sarcastically. “Not that there’s a need to go crossing swords with your brother, but you’re too good to pout about a done deal. What you need is a deal of your own. Not coincidentally, that’s why I’m here.” He holds his hands out wide like he’s God’s gift to fix my bad mood.
I can sense the carrot he’s dangling, and while there’s a part of me that wants to be angry—fine, jealous—a bit longer, I can’t deny the appeal of the next new thing. Dad definitely bred that into Cameron, but he also put a good dose of those genes into me too, along with a fair amount of brotherly competition.
“What’ve you got?”
“A little birdie told me about a widow—” he starts.
“Weak,” I interject. “I need something big.”
“As I was saying,” Zack continues, not slowing down, “portfolio management for a widow with a huge estate. I’m talking property, an art collection worth well into the eight figures, investments, and more.”
Looking his way, I concede. “I’m listening.”
Zack grins triumphantly, knowing he’s got me solidly wiggling on his hook and he’s a patient and skilled fisherman. “She’s only considering outsourcing, but I think you could sway her with that magic charm of yours. Seems to work with every other woman between twenty-two and ninety-two.”
I flash him my signature smile. “Now who’s jealous?” He doesn’t answer, merely stares back, waiting me out. “Fine, tell me more. Please.”
Pleased as punch with himself, he reels me in slowly. “Elena Cartwright, seventy-five, but spry and sharp. Her estate is out past Pearl, about ten thousand acres. But who’s counting at that point?” He rolls his eyes, well aware that my family owns that much too, though not in one plot. Land like that comes from more than three generations of wealth like us Harringtons, but Pearl is far enough away that I don’t know the Cartwright legacy.
He continues, “She lost her husband, Thomas, three years ago and has been grieving ever since. Though not too upset to manage the portfolio with her financial advisor. But he’s in over his head and knows it. More importantly, she knows it. She’s looking to the future.”
“Her future?” I ask incredulously. “Didn’t you say she’s seventy-five? She should be sitting on the porch, drinking a sweet tea, and singing the praises over witnessing another sunrise.”
“She probably does a fair amount of that, but she’s also been the brains behind the latest generation of Cartwright success. She’s not an empty-headed placeholder, which you’d do well to remember,” he warns.
“Noted. So, what’s the catch?”
“The way in.”
I knew it. If it sounds too good to be true, it’s damn-near always a guaranteed loss.
“Thomas Cartwright was the art collector, and an artist in his own right. Elena is his biggest fan. The art is your way in.”
“I know approximately less than fuck-all about art,” I argue.
Zack kicks out, knocking my foot off my knee. “No shit. I have a plan for that.” The full effect of my scowl lands on Zack, who seems completely unfazed. “Luna.”
I know the word, Latin for moon, but I’m not sure why he’s suddenly speaking a dead language.
“My sister, Luna,” he explains slowly. “She knows more about art than anyone. We can get her to tutor you or something, at least give you some talking points to get Cartwright on your side.”
The suggestion might as well be for me to speak to Elena Cartwright in a dead language because there’s no way Zack’s little sister will help me. I’ve been friends with Zack for over ten years, since our freshman year of college. And though I’ve met her at a handful of birthday parties, I’ve heard plenty of stories about how eccentric Zack’s sister is.
Some of the tales are simply the difference in ages, since Luna is almost nine years younger than Zack, but others highlight that sometimes, siblings can be polar opposites. And given that Zack and I are two peas in a pod, I’m sure Luna wouldn’t care too much for me, either.
I look at him as though he’s lost his damn mind because I’m considering the fact that he may actually have.
“Don’t give me that,” he orders, despite my not having said a word.
“You think she’s going to help?” I ask doubtfully. But it really doesn’t matter. Even if Luna were to agree, it’s unlikely I could learn enough in a short amount of time that’d fool someone passionate about art.
He smirks confidently. “I might know a thing or two about a thing or two, not that I’ll tell you. It’d make a crappy secret if I go blabbing it all over town.”
“You plan to blackmail your sister into teaching me enough about art that I can charm an old lady into choosing me to manage her portfolio.” It’s not a question, I’m simply repeating the plan concisely so I can evaluate it.