“I didn’t speak to him personally. I talked to a few people, but the guy who is going to get us in the door is the Chief Executive Officer of DuBois—Nick Malone. Malone’s not the most welcoming of men, but I suppose crackpots try to wriggle their way into DuBois’ presence all the time. We got lucky though. DuBois himself was in the room when I spoke with Malone. The only reason we got a meeting with DuBois was because Malone said my mother’s name out loud, and DuBois heard it.”
“Your mother’s name?” she asked slowly.
“Yeah.”
Liam now looked so grim, his former laughter might have been a hallucination.
Natalie didn’t really know what to expect in regard to visiting a billionaire tycoon’s house. Even though Liam had the lakeshore address, they had to ask for directions a few times, the estate was so secluded by towering pine trees and miles of land. When they finally did find the drive, it was unmarked. They didn’t realize it was the road to DuBois estate until they pulled up to the iron gates and saw the numbers for the address innocuously printed in tiny numerals on the metal of the security intercom.
“Malone may have given us the address, but he sure as hell didn’t want to make things easy for us to see DuBois,” Liam muttered before he pressed the intercom from his car window.
Perhaps a Hollywood influence had her imagining a maid dressed in a black dress and a white apron, so she was a little taken aback when the door to the sprawling house was answered by a cowboy.
Well, not a cowboy, really—there was no hat or enormous belt buckle, but the tall, fit man with the wavy chestnut brown certainly looked as if he’d be comfortable in a horse’s saddle.
“Can I help you?” he asked, although his clear, cold gray eyes hardly seemed like he wanted to give them assistance.
“We’re here to speak to Lincoln DuBois. I’m Liam Kavanaugh. This is Natalie Reyes.” Even though she’d seen Liam shake hands with innumerable people in the past several weeks, he didn’t offer his hand, which surprised Natalie a little.
For a few seconds, the man didn’t say anything. Natalie shifted on her feet uncomfortably when she noticed Liam and the man were having a staring contest.
“We spoke on the phone. I’m Nick Malone.”
“I figured you were. I recognized your voice,” Liam said so pleasantly it was as if he hadn’t noticed the chill in the air, even though Natalie knew for certain he had.
“I don’t like this. Mr. DuBois isn’t at all well.”
“You mentioned that several times on the phone. I promise you we’ll be considerate of his health. It was my understanding that it was Mr. DuBois’ particular wish to speak with me.”
That did it. Nick Malone stepped back, allowing them to enter.
“Follow me,” he said.
Malone led them into a truly stunning great room, featuring a forty-foot ceiling and the largest picture window Natalie had ever seen. The house was built on the side of a mountain. Its panoramic view of a sparkling Lake Tahoe and the surrounding High Sierras was the most jaw-dropping she’d ever seen.
They followed Malone up a grand staircase made with lodgepole pines and down a hallway, which was more of a gallery, given the museum-quality paintings hanging on the wall and occasional sculptures.
Nick gave them a severe once-over as he knocked at a door.
“Linc? Are you awake?”
“I am,” was the quiet reply.
“Mr. Kavanaugh and Ms. Reyes have arrived.”
“Send them in,” the voice on the other side of the door came more energetically.
Malone put his hand on the doorknob and turned to Liam.
“He’s very frail. His level of awareness wavers, depending on how fatigued he is. Don’t badger him with a lot of questions.”
Liam smiled even though his eyes were like blue ice chips. “No worries. We’ll be very gentle. My mother taught me good manners.”
Despite Liam’s sarcasm, Malone turned the knob and pushed open the door. He shut it behind them with an angry click once they’d entered the room.
And what a room…Natalie thought in wonder as she looked around the enormous space filled with everything from plush oriental carpets to detailed nautical maps that had been framed and mounted on the wall. Interspersed were oil paintings of horses.
DuBois himself was in the middle of all this wonder, sitting in a wheelchair, his gaze fixed on Liam. He had the look of a man who had lost a great deal of weight in a short per