The Forgotten Heiress, page 1
The Forgotten Heiress Copyright 2014 by Susie Warren
Published by Susie Warren
Cover design by The Killion Group
Formatting by www.formatting4U.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems – except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews – without permission in writing from the author at Susie@SusieWarren.com. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For more information on the author and her works, please see www.SusieWarren.com.
Chapter 1
Olivia Grey caught sight of the paparazzi gathered outside her shop in Dublin and her heart plummeted. Why couldn’t they leave her alone? She knew nothing about her estranged father’s tragic accident. The crowded sidewalk provided a cover for a few precious seconds as she readied herself for the exchange to come. Olivia tried to make sense of the events of the past few hours, but in truth she felt as if she just stepped off a roller coaster and was attempting to stay upright.
The reporter stepped forward and said, “Ms. Grey, can you give a statement about your father? What do you think caused the motorcycle accident?”
Olivia briefly met the reporter’s stare and simply said, “It’s quite tragic and sad. There is nothing else that can be said.”
“Were you close to your father?” the young man asked as he pointed a device at her.
“I have nothing further to add.” Olivia steadfastly moved past the reporter and photographer while keeping her face neutral and her gaze averted as she heard the rapid-fire clicking of a camera. She concentrated all of her effort on unlocking the door to her shop and getting inside.
“Ms. Grey, is it true that you were raised by a guardian? That your parents kept you hidden away?”
Olivia closed the door and felt a wave of anger wash over her. She was shaken by the audacity of the questions. What gave a reporter the right to ask about such private things? What would the media print about her if they knew the truth? Locking the door behind her, she decided to leave the closed sign in place and began to think about escaping the relentless media attention. This brought back vivid memories from her childhood – the media surrounding her mother, examining each movement or expression with fascination.
Forcing herself to move around the design showroom, Olivia allowed routine to take over as she flipped on the lights and put away bolts of fabric, cleaning the large worktables, and placing the antique dress forms in size order. How was she going to run a business with the paparazzi loitering outside?
She wanted her small shop to succeed and grow, but it was teetering close to bankruptcy. Deciding to hire part-time seamstresses and investing in high quality fabrics had caused her to overextend. Now with her small monthly stipend in question, she didn’t know how the shop could stay open.
And if it folded, the dream she had – of her dress designs catching on, of gaining a name as a respectable and sought after designer – would fold as well. And with it, her chance to prove to herself that she hadn’t deserved to be cast aside as an embarrassment all those years ago.
Olivia heard her cell phone vibrate and glanced at it. The number displayed as out of area. She decided against answering it and instead slipped it into her bag. She couldn’t deal with her father’s attorneys at the moment.
Hearing someone fumbling with a key in the lock, she went over and pulled the door open. Agnes tumbled in, looking weary and downtrodden, just as her first client of the day approached the entrance. It took enormous effort to get both of them inside without engaging the journalists looking for a tidbit of information.
“Olivia, what is going on?” her client asked as she removed her coat. “Are you expecting a celebrity?”
“No, it’s a bit more complicated than that.” Olivia took the coat and ushered the woman into the fitting room. “The gown is coming together perfectly. I can make the final adjustments this morning.”
Olivia waited for the woman to close the fitting room door before looking at Agnes. She desperately wanted to hug her guardian but held herself back.
Agnes whispered to her, “I saw your photograph on the news this morning and the phone is ringing off the hook. It’s not just online anymore. I think we should leave Dublin for a few days.”
Olivia shook her head. “The timing couldn’t be worse. We have so many custom orders for the gala next week. If I can’t deliver the designs, I won’t be able to pay the bills this month.”
“I know, dear. But your father’s unexpected death has brought up new speculation. The media has been displaying old photographs of your mother and they are intent on exploring the possibility of a love child and what that means for a blue blood clan like the Bolles family. It would be safer to leave for a while.” Agnes paused for a moment before plowing on. “Mr. Lynch called this morning and said he needs to speak with you urgently.”
Olivia seethed inwardly. Fionn Lynch. Her father’s successor. His image had been seared into her mind from looking at news clips and photographs online early this morning. The media portrayed him as a math prodigy, brilliant with formulas yet ruthless to the core when building his financial empire. They were obsessed with him because he was hot, handsome, obscenely wealthy, and he took daredevil risks that would bankrupt most companies.
“I have no desire to speak with Mr. Lynch about my relationship to the Bolles family. I have none. They will just need to sort this out on their own,” Olivia said to her guardian as she recalled the directive the arrogant business mogul had left earlier on her cell phone.
“I don’t think ignoring the problem will help, dear. The speculation around your birth will only intensify,” Agnes told her kindly.
Olivia knew that Agnes was right, but she reminded herself that being pulled into the spotlight wouldn’t solve anything. She heard her client coming out of the fitting room and forced her attention back to finishing the design.
Olivia watched the flow of the custom gown as the woman glided into the studio. The teal color of the pale organza silk complimented the woman’s complexion. There were minor adjustments needed, so she pinned the modifications as her customer chatted nonstop about the upcoming charity event.
The woman fell silent for a moment before asking, “If you are not expecting a celebrity, why are so many reporters on your doorstep?”
Olivia accidently jabbed herself with a pin and could feel tears forming in her eyes. “Excuse me. I just need a moment,” Olivia said as she walked across the shop and disappeared into the private bathroom. She could hear Agnes explaining the situation to the client in a hushed tone.
Splashing cold water on her face, Olivia examined her pale reflection in the mirror. She refused to shed tears for a father she never knew. As she gently blotted her face dry, she sternly reminded herself that her father’s unexpected death shouldn’t affect her. He had abandoned her even before she was born and had apparently agreed with her mother that a guardian should oversee her care.
So why was she becoming unhinged? It was almost as if a torrent of emotion demanded to break free. She tried to identify the feeling but gave up almost instantly, deciding it didn’t matter how she felt, only that she held on to her design business. Without it, she would have nothing.
Stepping back into the shop, she noticed her client had approached the mirror to admire the elaborate dress as Agnes finished the pinning.
“Olivia, the embroidery on the bodice is breathtaking. I can’t wait to be seen in this design.” The woman’s eyes remained fixed on the mirror.
Olivia nodded briefly saying, “You look lovely. I’ll have it delivered to you within the next couple of days.”
Agnes helped the client back to the dressing room.
Walking over to her desk, Olivia flipped open her design schedule. Her hands were shaking and she took a deep breath to calm herself. She needed to handle the impending scandal with tact or her clients would begin cancelling orders. She knew instinctively that the super wealthy who sought out her designs wouldn’t want to be in the spotlight of a story about an illegitimate daughter and a collapsing empire. They would be more interested in protecting their privacy and would seek out a more discreet designer.
Focusing on the task at hand, Olivia carefully took inventory of all the unfinished work. Beyond a few custom designs, she owed inventory to several boutiques. When Agnes returned from helping the client out of the gown, she helped Olivia pack up unfinished work in a black transport case along with the relevant paperwork, knowing that it would be sent to her best seamstress.
The unsettling images Olivia had seen on the Internet were still trying to infiltrate every thought she had. Her father had been a man in the prime of his life with a loving family – one she’d never met. She recalled images of his teenage son and beautiful wife. Shaking her head as if she could make the pictures in it go away, she decided Agnes was right. They needed to get out of town for a while.
Blocking out all thought, Olivia methodically went about calling her clients to cancel their appointments, and as a last resort, sent a text to a client who didn’t pick up her call. Her heart was racing as she finished organizing all of the details concerned with keeping her business functioning fro
What would the media say about her now that the story of her parents’ illicit affair had broken? The speculation around the time of her mother’s death years ago had been horrid. Olivia remembered her mother living a lavish lifestyle as a highly sought after performer. Even though she’d never publically acknowledged Olivia, she was always behind the scenes asking about schoolwork or insisting on voice lessons. But she’d never mentioned her father. Dismissing the old memories, Olivia brought her thoughts back to the present and the coming ordeal.
It took an inordinately long time for her client to leave, but as soon as she did, Agnes came and swiftly hugged her before stepping back awkwardly.
The older woman had dressed in her usual plaid jumper and serviceable shoes, but somehow Olivia could recognize a sense of worry clinging to her as Agnes said, “I know this has rattled you, but life will get back to normal. In a few months you will barely think about any of this.”
Olivia nodded and tried to reassure her guardian that she was fine by smiling slightly and saying, “I know. You should go to your sister’s house for a few days and enjoy a visit with her.”
“What will you do?” Agnes asked.
Olivia carefully kept any hesitation out of her voice. “I’ll take the train to a Bed and Breakfast somewhere outside of the city.”
Agnes said, “I don’t want you to be alone.”
Olivia accepted the gown that Agnes had helped her client out of and placed it in the case for her seamstress. She hoped her seamstress could make sense of all the partially finished work.
“Could you drop off this case with Clara on your way?”
She noticed Agnes hesitate. “Yes, dear. But do you think going off alone is a good idea?”
Olivia walked Agnes to the door. “I need time to take all of this in and there is less of a chance the media will find me if we separate. You should be on your way. I’ll leave a few minutes after you.”
She was surprised by how difficult it was to watch Agnes walk out the door. For the first time, in a very long time, Olivia felt unsettled and worried about the future. It reminded her of the time just following her mother’s death when she had been barely thirteen years old and thought she would be taken away from her guardian and sent to live with her uncle. She reminded herself she was now an adult and could make her own choices. She needed to stand on her own. Yet she realized that the small monthly income from her trust was keeping her design business open. Somehow she had to get the business to the point of breaking even.
She turned off lights and checked to make sure the windows and back door were locked.
The bell to her shop buzzed. She guessed the paparazzi must be getting impatient. She decided to flag a taxi down instead of taking the metro.
Deciding to just brazen out the media camped on her doorstep, Olivia wrenched the door open and froze. Fionn Lynch. She was horrified to realize that he was a thousand times more captivating in the flesh. He could be a model with his aristocratic presence, dark hair and eyes so dark and intense that Olivia felt her heart skip a beat.
“Ms. Grey, my condolences for the loss of your father.” Fionn stopped within inches of her and didn’t seem bothered by the paparazzi continuing to snap photographs of them.
Olivia stepped back in silent retreat and he walked into her shop. She guessed he was in his early thirties, and was impressed with how polished and seemingly in control he was. His accent sounded more Irish than American.
He closed the door firmly and she moved away from the large windows. Apprehension skittered along her frayed nerves, but she deliberately ignored it.
“I’ve left you several messages about the funeral and needing you to come to London,” he said. “There is speculation in the media about your inheritance and the precarious position of your father’s investment company. In fact, it is on the brink of collapse.”
Suddenly Olivia realized she had met Fionn Lynch once before. How odd that she didn’t remember him when she’d looked at his photograph online. This was the same boy who’d witnessed the most embarrassing moment of her life and had intervened on her behalf. He was quite different now. He had been a handsome teenager, but he’d changed into a strikingly attractive man.
He’d been a teenager when he had stepped between Olivia and her father and insisted that the older man back off. She realized now that her father had been trying to protect his reputation and didn’t want the world to know that she was his daughter. She was thirteen at the time and that had cut her to the bone. Her emotions raw, she had purposely defied Oliver Bolles as he tried to tell her that her mother had died and that she would be sent to live with her uncle. Oliver had exploded in a rage when she was openly critical of her uncle and Fionn had protected her. He’d calmed Oliver down and swayed him against sending Olivia to her uncle, making sure she got what she needed to feel safe – her connection to Agnes.
Fionn had kept his promise to her. He had brokered a deal between father and daughter that if Olivia stayed in the background and didn’t call attention to herself, that her life would continue as it always had. She would stay with her guardian on school holidays and would attend an elite boarding school in London.
Olivia barely remembered Oliver Bolles from that meeting, but the image of Fionn Lynch had imprinted on her soul. He was the one who’d protected her when she was at her most vulnerable, who realized that Agnes was the only family that she had ever known.
Olivia avoided his gaze. “We’ve met before. You were at my mother’s memorial service.”
“Yes, I was traveling with Oliver when he received the news of her death.”
“I remember you convinced him to let me remain with Agnes.” She had very few vivid images from that day but she remembered Fionn handing her a piece of gum and feeling an immediate connection to him. He had stepped in at a critical time in her life and saved her. She would have been devastated if she had been sent away to live with her spiteful uncle. She couldn’t ever chew gum now without thinking of that pivotal moment in her life – and this stranger who’d taken on heroic proportions. But Olivia reminded herself she didn’t need rescuing anymore.
And she could see Fionn’s emotions were now hidden behind his polish and authority, as he said in a businesslike tone, “Unfortunately, we are meeting once again under trying circumstances. There isn’t much time. You are needed at the funeral tomorrow in London.”
“I can’t possibly help with any of this.” Olivia’s stiff words were meant to push him away. She knew from the news accounts that her father’s business was in trouble and Fionn Lynch was seen as the knight in shining armor. But the sooner he realized she would refuse to cooperate, the sooner he would find another way of saving his precious company.
He moved closer and looked down at her, a slight frown across his handsome face. “So you are content with the paparazzi documenting all of your movements and speculating on your strange upbringing?” His words were clipped and smooth and she could feel her panic rising. Without skipping a beat, he added, “I imagine your clients may not be quite so accommodating.”
She lifted her chin. “You know nothing about my life or what I’m willing to accept.”
She saw the touch of anger in his gaze and watched in fascination as his stance became rigid. “I know you are looking for a place to escape the media speculation surrounding you, but you lack the financial resources or experience that would allow you to find a safe haven. While this plays out in the media, I guarantee your clothing design startup will cease to exist.” His eyes grazed hers and her body suddenly felt too hot. “I imagine you are feeling vulnerable and lost.”
He wasn’t even touching her, yet she felt an overwhelming physical response to him. Olivia forced a controlled breath into her lungs. “Why am I suddenly so important? I didn’t even know Oliver Bolles. The only thing I learned about him this morning is that he liked to live life on the edge. He drove fast cars, did extreme sports, and even flew his own plane.”
“Whereas, you prefer safety and routine?” His words sounded silky and smooth, but her instinct told her he was baiting a trap. “Do you expect to hide out indefinitely while your clients jump ship?”
