Taming the Lone Wolff(2)

                He shrugged. “Your note indicated some urgency.”

                “Yes.” Fear and anxiety clenched her stomach, but she fought them back. She was not a victim. She was in charge. “I suppose you read the article I enclosed?”

                He nodded with a grimace. “I did.”

                Winnie Bellamy hated being robbed. Money was one thing…she had plenty of it. But when Arista Magazine listed her as one of the twenty wealthiest women in America, Winnie lost something she valued more than anything else…her privacy…and her anonymity.

                She placed her hands on the arms of the chair, deliberately displaying an air of confidence. “Where do we start?”

                * * *

                Larkin Wolff was not sure what she wanted from him. So he decided to push a little. If part of his line of questioning had more to do with sheer curiosity than actual necessity, well…that was his business. He settled back and drummed his hands on his knees. “Tell me about you and your family…. How did you end up on that wealthiest-women list?”

                Ordinarily, he’d have opened his computer by now and would be making notes. But he didn’t want to miss the nuances of expression that danced across Winnie’s open-book face. Her posture and graceful movements projected dignity. She carried herself regally, as if she had spent her formative years at exclusive Swiss finishing schools. And perhaps she had.

                She took a moment to almost visibly compose her thoughts before speaking. Her demeanor seemed pensive. “My parents had me when they were well into their mid-forties. The pregnancy was somewhat of an embarrassment to my mother. She and my father were academics, both with IQs off the charts. My ‘accidental’ conception made them look human, I think, and I’m sure they hated that.”

                “They are deceased?”

                “Yes. Both had advanced degrees in anthropology and archaeology. Their careers and their marriage were spent crisscrossing the globe. They were much in demand as speakers at colleges, universities and basically anywhere that could rustle up the money to cover their exorbitant fees.”

                “And that’s how they amassed a fortune?” He lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

                “No, of course not. The money was always there. My mother’s great-great-grandfather invented and patented some kind of engine during World War I, and my father’s family owned a large publishing conglomerate in London.”

                “Where were you during all their travels?”

                Trained to note small tells, he witnessed the brief moment her hands clenched on the chair arms before relaxing again deliberately. “I had governesses, tutors, semesters at boarding schools, an Ivy League education. Everything a child could possibly need.”

                “Except parents to tuck you in at night.” The compassion sparked by her terse narrative was born of his own dark memories.

                “No,” she said quietly. “I didn’t have that. But there are worse problems, I assure you.”

                “Indeed. But having grown up myself without a mother and with a father who was all about business, I sympathize, Ms. Bellamy.”

                “I’d appreciate it if you would call me Winnie. Ms. Bellamy is too formal and, quite honestly, I hate the name Winifred. It makes me sound like an old-maid librarian.”

                He grinned. “You’re far from that.”