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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  About Heather B. Moore

  Copyright © 2019 by Heather B. Moore

  E-book edition

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles. This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Interior design by Cora Johnson

  Edited by Kelsey Down and Lisa Shepherd

  Cover design by Rachael Anderson and Steven Novak

  Cover image credit: Deposit Photos #25592211

  Published by Mirror Press, LLC

  Generations of secrets. An ancient curse. Love has never been an option.

  Lauren Ambrose has made a life for herself as a fledging artist, far from the ancient secrets and cobwebbed past of her family’s historic estate in Texas. Generations of the Ambrose women have suffered at the hands of a curse, and the last place Lauren wants to spend time is at the Ambrose Estate, among the tragedies of the past. But when her grandmother, matriarch of the Ambrose fortune, requires Lauren to attend an urgent business meeting, she reluctantly travels home.

  Nick Matthews is ready for a battle. Lillian Ambrose, co-founder of Ambrose Oil, has agreed to hear his investment idea, but no one has ever successfully partnered with the business tycoon. When he arrives at Ambrose Estate, prepared with weeks of research, the last person he expects to meet is Lauren, a dynamic and captivating woman with a past full of secrets. As Nick gets to know Lauren, he discovers she is mostly perfect for him, except for one, major drawback . . . The curKatelynnse that has the power to destroy everything between them.

  Lauren Ambrose’s Genealogy

  Ambrose sisters:

  Sofia

  Lauren

  Emma

  Amelia

  Kendra

  Lauren’s Parents:

  Poppy Ambrose Chambers

  Randall Aaron Chambers

  Grandparents:

  Lillian Marie Ambrose Millet

  Richard Jacob Millet

  Great-Grandparents

  Helen Elizabeth Ambrose Burton

  Walter Charles Burton

  Great-Great-Grandparents

  Margaret Florence Thorne Ambrose

  George Frederick Ambrose II

  All female descendants are given the extra middle name of Ambrose.

  Lauren Ambrose fanned her face with her boarding pass as she stood at the curb in front of the regional airport. Next she lifted her long, wavy hair and did the same for her neck. She’d forgotten how humid Texas was near the Gulf of Mexico in the summer. Well, she hadn’t forgotten, but the weather hadn’t been on her mind when she’d received an urgent phone call from her Grandmother Ambrose the night before. Lauren was sure she’d pay for her rushed packing later, but for now, the taxicab was late, and every passing minute only made Lauren more worried.

  Her grandmother had been cryptic about what was going on, but the insistence in her aged voice had left no room for argument. Was it her health? Something to do with the estate? Lauren rarely communicated with her sisters, or her half-sisters, Amelia, Kendra, and Katelynn. So she didn’t even know they’d been called home too. Or her mother. Little chance of that. Her mother was on husband number five and living a life separate from her daughters.

  A taxicab pulled up to the curb, and Lauren sighed in relief. She hoped the air conditioning would be working and she’d arrive in Ambrose more calm than she felt. Picking up her single suitcase, she headed toward the rear door of the cab. Just as she stepped off a curb, a man seemed to come out of nowhere. He reached the cab door first and opened it.

  Lauren stared in disbelief. This guy was stealing her taxi.

  “Excuse me, sir,” she said, latching onto the open door as the man moved to load his carry-on into the trunk. “This is my taxi.”

  The dark-haired man turned to look at her.

  Surprise showed in his hazel eyes. Lauren tried to keep her gaze steady, although she couldn’t help but notice how this man looked like he belonged on one of those top ten sexy men posters. Her first thought was that he was an athlete of some sort—maybe a former athlete? His shoulders were plenty broad, and his arms and hands looked quite capable of doing athletic things. She guessed him to be in his early thirties, so maybe he was retired? And doing what in this small part of Texas?

  His gaze focused on her, as if he was trying to comprehend what she’d said.

  “This is the taxicab I ordered,” she said again, curling her fingers around the door to demonstrate her ownership.

  The driver climbed out of the car and looked at them both across the hood. “Nicholas Matthews?”

  “That’s me,” the dark-haired man said, snapping his gaze to the driver. “And you’re Sanchez?”

  “Yes, sir,” the cab driver said.

  Lauren fumbled with her phone, trying to pull up the confirmation text she’d received from the cab company. Yep, there was the time and date . . . and . . . was today Wednesday? No, it was Tuesday. Heat flashed through her, and she released the door.

  “Seems I’ve made a mistake,” she said in a small voice, meeting Mr. Matthews’s amused gaze. He was one of those . . . for lack of a better term, pampered guys. Expensive suit, a watch that must have costs thousands, and those shoes—definitely Italian leather. And she was totally checking him out. Eyes up, Lauren. “Sorry, I, uh . . . sorry.”

  She turned and hauled her suitcase back onto the curb. She was pretty sure Italian-leather-shoe guy was silently laughing at her. Now what? She’d probably have to wait an hour for another taxicab to come. The airport was small, and it wasn’t like she could book a Lyft or Uber. And she hadn’t wanted to bother with the hassle of a rental.

  “Where are you headed, ma’am?” the man asked.

  Lauren looked over at Mr. Nicholas Matthews—or whatever he went by.

  Was he just being polite, or was he sincere?

  “Ambrose,” she said.

  Mr. Matthews smiled. It was one of those smiles that probably secured him a lot of dates. If he was single, that was. No wedding ring in sight, but that didn’t mean much in today’s world. “It’s on my way,” he said. “How about we share the cab?”

  Lauren blinked. What were the chances he was a creep? A good-looking, wealthy, polite creep with beautiful olive skin? And how was he not sweating to death in that suit of his? She glanced at the cab driver, who looked like he was okay with waiting for their decision since his meter was already on. The taxicab was from the same company Lauren had booked, and it was a reputable company. So . . . the taxi was safe.

  The wild card was Nicholas Matthews.

  She looked into his hazel eyes and decided he looked sincere.

  “Okay.” She rotated her suitcase and carried it down the curb
again.

  Mr. Matthews reached for the handle of her suitcase. “I’ve got it.”

  He smelled . . . expensive. Lauren’s stomach did a little flip, but she immediately suppressed any wayward butterflies.

  She decided not to argue with his offer to take the suitcase. The sooner she was inside the taxicab, the sooner she could cool off.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in a smooth voice.

  Lauren blinked. He was asking if she was okay? “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” She hadn’t meant to sound defensive, but it was too late to backtrack.

  He didn’t seem bothered by her sharp reply. “You look a little frazzled.”

  Frazzled? That was the least of it.

  “This is an unexpected trip, that’s all.” She gave him a small, dismissive smile and moved past him. Then she slid into the back seat and pulled the door closed.

  Moments later the taxi driver was seated, and Nicholas Matthews had settled into the front seat.

  Yeah, he definitely smelled expensive. Subtle, though. Not too strong of a cologne, which made her wonder if it was body wash. Lauren fanned herself again. Maybe she should have sat in the front seat, closer to the AC vents. She pulled up the taxicab company website on her phone and canceled the scheduled pickup—for tomorrow.

  As the driver merged onto the main road, he asked, “Where y’all from?”

  Oh, good. A chatty driver. Lauren was not interested in chatting with the driver, or any other stranger. She wasn’t antisocial or anything, but once she said her name and that she’d grown up on Ambrose Estate, she’d be treated differently. And not in a positive way.

  Her grandmother was the known matriarch of Ambrose and the wealthiest woman in the county, possibly the entire state. Not even Lauren knew the exact extent of her grandmother’s holdings. That was for her sister Sofia to keep track of. She was the new owner of the Ambrose Oil Company their grandmother had co-founded.

  “I’m from San Diego,” Nicholas Matthews told the driver.

  Lauren’s breath stalled. She lived in San Diego too . . . had the man been on her flight? She hadn’t seen him, and she was pretty sure she would have noticed. She dug the earbuds out of her multicolored bag and clicked them into her phone, then slipped them on her ears. She didn’t turn on any music, but maybe it would clue the driver into the fact that she wasn’t going to play twenty questions.

  “I’ve never been to San Diego,” Sanchez said. “Although it sounds nice.”

  “Of all the places I’ve lived, San Diego has the best weather.”

  Lauren agreed, curious about how many places Nicholas Matthews had lived. She didn’t want to be curious, but she was already listening.

  “What do you do for a living?” the driver continued.

  “I’m in acquisitions,” Nicholas Matthews said. “How about you? Is this your full-time job?”

  “Part-time for now.”

  During the rest of the ride to Ambrose, Nicholas Matthews took control over the conversation, asking the driver questions, which Lauren found interesting.

  She exhaled as they passed the final sign on the road, indicating only five miles to go until they arrived in Ambrose. She peered out the window, debating where to tell them to drop her off. She didn’t want them to take her onto the estate grounds. Then she had an idea.

  “I’m at the bed-and-breakfast on the corner,” Lauren said, taking out her earbuds.

  The cab driver slowed the car, and Lauren pulled out a few bills from her wallet. She set them on the middle console between the two front seats as the cab stopped in front of the bed-and-breakfast. By the time she’d opened the door and climbed out, Nicholas Matthews had gotten out of the cab too.

  With the driver busy lifting her case out of the trunk, Mr. Matthews said, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She looked up at him. Lauren was about five nine, and this guy had to be at least six three or six four. “It’s been a long day, Mr. Matthews.”

  “Call me Nick,” he said.

  Lauren’s first thought was that he had a mobster name, but that was ridiculous.

  “I didn’t get your name,” he continued in that smooth voice of his.

  “That’s because I didn’t give it out.”

  The edge of his mouth lifted, and he held out the money she’d just put onto the console. “I’ll pay for the cab.”

  The driver set the suitcase next to her and went around the taxi to climb back in.

  “Are you from around here?” Nick asked.

  Now he wanted to ask questions? While standing outside the taxi?

  “Something like that.” She grasped the handle of her suitcase. Giving him a hint.

  “If you need anything, give me a call.” He pulled a business card out of the inner pocket of his suit coat and handed it to her.

  He climbed back into the cab then, leaving Lauren to stare after him.

  On the business card were only two things. His name and a phone number.

  Nick Matthews didn’t know why he’d offered to share a cab with Lauren Ambrose. He’d recognized her the second he stepped out of the airport and saw her standing on the curb. It wouldn’t have been a good idea to introduce himself, even though he’d be meeting her in a more formal setting soon enough. Although the picture he had of the Ambrose family was several years old, there was no mistaking the woman was the second daughter of the family.

  Second daughter and heiress to a billion-dollar holding company. Provided Lillian Ambrose, matriarch of the clan, and co-founder of Ambrose Oil, made the right decision. And that’s what Nick intended on helping her do.

  Nick didn’t know what he’d expected coming face to face with one of the Ambrose women, but it wasn’t Lauren. Her long hair had a wild, untamed look, as if she’d just come off a camping trip. And her clothing . . . not the classy designer look of her sisters, whom he’d done research on. In fact, he’d found very little about Lauren, since she wasn’t part of any social media sites.

  Her V-neck T-shirt was plain white, and the printed sarong skirt she wore hugged her curvy hips. Not that Nick had allowed himself to check out Lauren Ambrose. His clients were always off-limits. But he could appreciate a natural beauty, and Lauren definitely fit that mold. Her lake-blue eyes and dusky lips were free of any makeup. She didn’t wear any jewelry, save for a silver chain necklace that disappeared beneath her shirt.

  Nick loosened his tie and was tempted to shed his suit jacket, but he’d wait until he reached the house he’d rented for the month. “Always dress professionally,” his father had told him more than once. And it had paid off well. At least, that’s what Nick believed.

  His father’s funeral six months ago had driven Nick toward a nostalgia he’d never had when his father was alive. In fact, Nick found himself understanding his father’s business practices more and more. And here Nick was . . . carrying out another tactic developed by his father, who believed that any business worth acquiring took more than studying numbers on a spreadsheet.

  It took hands-on research. Which was exactly why Nick had come to Ambrose a full three days before his meeting with Lillian Ambrose. He had no doubt that she’d entertained venture capitalists before. And he knew that she’d turned down every acquisitions offer ever made. No matter the amount. It seemed that Lillian Ambrose valued other things above money. Which included her six granddaughters.

  “Is this it?” Nick asked as the taxi driver pulled into a long driveway leading to an elegant two-story home.

  “This is the address you sent to the company, sir.”

  “Very well,” Nick said. The place would have to do. All he required was high speed internet, a stocked fridge, and a lot of privacy. He hoped this house wasn’t on anyone’s list to keep an eye on. Chatting with neighbors wasn’t on his to-do list.

  He paid the driver, then carried his suitcase to his new residence for the next thirty days, although Nick was hoping to be out of here much sooner than that.

  Lauren tucked the business card that Nichola
s Matthews had given her into her bag. With the odds and ends in her bag, the card would get lost in no time. There was no reason to call a perfect stranger for anything. And the sooner she arrived at Ambrose Estate, the better. Lauren pulled up the contacts on her phone and called William Shelton, chauffeur of her grandmother.

  He picked up on the second ring. “Lauren?” His warm voice was good to hear. “Are you in town?”

  “The cab dropped me off at the bed-and-breakfast,” Lauren said. “Can you pick me up?”

  “Sure thing,” Shelton said, and she heard the questions in his voice. Questions he wouldn’t ask. If there was one quality that could be attributed to Shelton, it was discretion.

  That was probably why he’d kept his job at Ambrose for going on thirty years.

  Lauren thanked him, then hung up. Next, she carried her suitcase to the bench in front of the bed-and-breakfast and sat down. She had at least ten minutes to wait. Which meant that about twenty minutes from now, she’d be in front of her grandmother, hearing what was going on.

  Lauren exhaled. Getting here had been a whirlwind. No, she didn’t have a boss to tell that she was going out of town, but she had to arrange with a neighbor to water her plants and feed Silver, an elusive cat that had adopted itself to Lauren a couple of years ago. The final phone call she’d made had been to Kevin. The man who had told her twenty-four hours ago that he was falling in love with her.

  Lauren regretted letting things go so far with Kevin. She never dated anyone for more than five dates. After five dates, men wanted to get more serious. Wanted her to meet their families, go on a weekend vacation together, and talk about future plans.

  But she’d been negligent with Kevin. She’d been irresponsible. She should have broken things off weeks ago. It was as if her grandmother’s phone call had pulled her out of whatever rose-colored world she’d been living in. A world that didn’t, and wouldn’t ever, belong to her. For Lauren to let things with a man progress to an engagement and a marriage would be a death sentence. Literally.