The Unreal Boyfriend Page 4

  And Adele and Gerald had no idea who they’d partnered with.

  Derek rang the bell and it was opened by the same plainclothes security guard who was always present at these events. “Evening, Boyd,” he said with a smile.

  “Hey, Derek,” Boyd said, raising a palm in front of him. “Could you wait here, please? Ross wants to talk to you.”

  Derek’s brow went up. “Out here?”

  “Yes. Uh, apparently you’re not invited.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean? I never needed any formal invitations before.”

  “I have my instructions. Please wait here.” Boyd closed the door on him.

  Derek suppressed a sigh, checking his phone to see if he’d gotten a message from Holly. He knew she was arriving late, but had she cancelled altogether? He called her.

  “Hey, I’m almost there,” Holly answered.

  “So you’re still coming?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I don’t know what’s going on, but Ross suddenly uninvited me.”

  “What do you mean? He’s never declined my requests before, even if he’s unhappy with it.”

  Derek breathed deeply. “I know. I’m thinking he might have found out about Bernie. Remember that their office is not far from Bernie’s? He might have seen us, or someone told him.”

  “You better mention it to him, then, just in case.”

  “Yes. How far away are you?”

  “About seven to ten minutes.”

  “Okay. See—”

  The door opened, and Ross came out.

  “See you soon, babe. I’m here now,” he told Holly before hanging up and facing his uncle.

  “Hello, Derek,” Ross said coldly.

  “Hello, Uncle Ross,” he answered in a neutral tone, once again wanting nothing more than to squeeze the man’s neck with all his might. Fortunately, he and his uncle never got along, so Ross had no reason to suspect that Derek’s animosity was from anything more than Ross’s bitter fights with Sally McCarthy—Derek’s mother and Ross’s sister.

  “I’m afraid you can’t come in,” Ross said.

  “I just checked with Holly and she’ll be here in ten minutes,” he said calmly. “We couldn’t arrive together because she was coming from the other side of town.”

  Ross snickered. “Does Holly know you’re two-timing her?”

  Derek let out a chuckle. He’d guessed correctly. “Are you talking about the woman I’ve been picking up in the city in the last couple of weeks? Holly knows about that. In fact, it was her idea.”

  Ross frowned.

  “It was to ward off a paparazzo,” he said, then explained the circumstances.

  “I see that your business is still more important to you than Holly,” Ross said disapprovingly.

  “It’s both our decision to remain out of the public eye. And you have to admit, my girlfriend’s presence as a single woman at your parties is more valuable to you than if we come out as a couple. That’s why you’ve been managing to have wealthy eligible bachelors on your guest list, even if they’re stratospheres above your status.”

  “You get a stinking lot of business out of my events, too! If it wasn’t for Holly begging me to invite you, you’ll never get a single invitation from me. Be thankful that I allow you on my premises when your own mother demanded I never, ever set foot in her house again. And there you are, always agreeing with her.”

  Derek shrugged carelessly.

  “Holly deserves someone better than you,” Ross hissed.

  “I totally agree. But you can’t tell the heart who to love, unfortunately.”

  They eyeballed each other, until Ross looked away and stomped back in, leaving the door open.

  Derek smirked as he went inside. Good thing Ross wanted nothing more than to please Holly.

  To be fair, he did get a lot of business from Ross’s events. But he couldn’t care less about that. Somewhere in one of Ross’s properties was Man and His Secrets—a painting by Derek’s father, Richard, that Ross had originally commissioned. His uncle said he’d sold it years ago, but Derek knew otherwise.

  Four years was a long time to keep sneaking around Ross’s premises to find it, but Derek wasn’t giving up. He needed the proof that Ross was responsible for his father’s death.

  Lucky for him that Holly and her older brother, Xavier, were as committed as he was to outing Ross’s criminal side. The siblings were scared for their parents’ safety and livelihood. Xavier, in particular—having been Derek’s dad’s personal trainer—was well aware of how dangerous Ross could be.

  Unfortunately, Ross was extremely cunning, just like many of the smart criminals who kept on getting away with their crimes. The letter Derek’s dad had handed to Xavier would never be enough evidence to go to the authorities with. They needed to find Man and His Secrets.

  “Hey, Uncle Ross,” he said conversationally, itching to poke the bear. “I saw in the news that you were one of those affected by that major investment company going belly-up. Apparently, you’re one of the several clients that are planning to sue the directors.”

  Ross stiffened, although he didn’t answer.

  Derek hid a smile. Ross hadn’t been shy about telling people he’d made most of his fortune in the stock market, using his inheritance as capital. But Ross would have been massively hit by the recent downturn in the global market, plus the problems being faced by the investment company who’d managed his assets.

  “So,” Derek continued, “have you sold another one of Dad’s paintings?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Why not? I bet selling Dad’s paintings enabled you to buy this magnificent place. You probably still have one of the four you took from my parents, right?”

  Ross whirled around, lips curved in an angry snarl. “I deserve those paintings. Your mother took more than her fair share of our inheritance and, since she refused to sell those damned pearls to split the proceeds with me, she had to pay me back some other way.”

  “The paintings you got from Mum shot up in value after Dad died,” Derek said enviously. “And as you know, the Anton pearls are still missing. You’re really much luckier than we’ve been.”

  Ross laughed out loud, clearly enjoying Derek’s show of envy. “Yes, I’m a lucky son of a bitch, am I not? Shame that your mother didn’t keep the necklace in a much safer location. Our parents are probably still turning in their graves, especially our father, who’d spent an enormous fortune sourcing the best individual pearls he could find. Imagine him taking three years before having enough pearls with the quality he wanted to come up with that long string. And your mother was careless enough to let it be stolen from under her nose. Shame that our police are so damned incompetent. You’d think they’d have more on the burglar after all these years. Are there any new leads, by the way?”

  “No,” Derek said coldly.

  Ross let out a tsk. “Pity your mother was underinsured. And pity your father’s paintings only became extremely valuable after he died. It’s sad he wasn’t able to benefit much from his work while he was still alive. Now you and your mother are foolish enough to loan the ones you still own to the galleries. You could sell at least one, you know. Your dad would want you to, I’m sure.”

  Derek strived to stop his fingers from fisting. “Mum feels very strongly against selling them. Anyway, how much would they be worth now? About five million each?” he asked with the same envious tone.

  “Well,” Ross said smugly, “considering I already sold a Richard McCarthy for over six million more than a year ago, I’d say Mountain Sunrise, the last one I still have, would be worth at least that amount even though it’s a lot smaller. In fact, I wouldn’t hesitate to say it might reach five to ten times that after the exhibition at the National Gallery next year, when his paintings are hung not only in the same room as, but also next to the works of other famous contemporary painters.”

  “Twenty-five to fifty million?” Derek asked in an incredulous voice, even
though he wasn’t surprised at all.

  Ross nodded rather excitedly. “Some art buyers might not think it’s worth that much yet, but they will once they realise art scholars are comparing your dad’s paintings to the works of other famous artists.”

  Boyd walked past them, heading for the front door.

  “Well, I have to go,” Ross said. “I’m sure you can entertain yourself,” he added curtly.

  Derek shot dagger looks at Ross’s back.

  “Hi, guys. I’m here,” Holly’s voice said from behind.

  Derek turned around. “Hey, babe.”

  Holly gave him a peck close to his lips before going to Ross.

  “Glad you could make it again tonight, Holly,” Ross said warmly.

  “Of course. You know I always love your parties.”

  “Yeah, right. You’re Adele and Gerald’s daughter, after all,” Ross said teasingly.

  Holly laughed. “You know they never force me to come. They don’t need me promoting Stirling Mortgage Brokers when you already do an incredible job of it.”

  Ross chortled, clearly tickled pink. “Well, I am part-owner of that company, after all. Anyway, the guests should be here soon. We have a few new faces tonight.”

  “Can’t wait. Anyway, let me just change into this first.” Holly held up a dress bag. “I didn’t bother changing at the studio because there were people hanging around there for me and I didn’t want to be held up. Do you mind if I use one of your guest bedrooms?”

  “Of course not. They’re unlocked.”

  Holly smiled at Derek. “Come with me?”

  “Of course,” Derek said.

  Ross heaved a resigned sigh, walking away. No doubt he believed the couple was again borrowing one of his guests’ rooms for some sexy times. One of Holly’s requests from the very beginning was for the chance to be alone with Derek for a few minutes at the beginning of the parties. Since they were hiding their relationship from the public, Holly had stated how truly indebted she’d be to Ross for that special time with Derek. And Ross, wanting to bend over backwards for Holly Stirling, had reluctantly agreed.

  “I am so glad he loves you so much,” Derek whispered in Holly’s ear.

  “Lucky me,” Holly said dryly.

  They climbed the stairs together, anticipation racing in Derek’s veins. This was their first opportunity to check the upstairs level of this house. The last time they were at this property, they’d merely observed, making sure there weren’t any internal cameras.

  Fortunately, Ross didn’t appear to believe in having his private spaces videoed, perhaps so there could be no documentation of his nefarious activities. Derek couldn’t be more grateful for that.

  Holly situated herself near the staircase, where she could see if someone was coming up, and Derek quickly went inside the door nearest him. The walls were bare, so he checked inside the wardrobes and under the bed. No sign of his father’s Man and His Secrets painting.

  Quietly, he went to the next room. And the next. Same deal. Damn it.

  He entered the last room, which was clearly the master. His breath hitched as he saw Mountain Sunrise hanging above the bed. It wasn’t Man and His Secrets, but Derek still carefully took Mountain Sunrise from its hanging, then entered the walk-in wardrobe with it, closing the door and shutting the blinds on the lone window. The small room went dark. Perfect.

  He pulled out a little battery-operated torch from his pocket—one that emitted ultraviolet light—and pointed it at the back of the painting. Carefully, he scrutinised every inch and corner of the canvas. But no writing became apparent.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, his shoulders drooping. He hadn’t expected this painting to contain any hidden writings, but it was disappointing nonetheless.

  He rehung the painting, double-checked that the master bedroom was as he’d found it, then walked out.

  “Nothing?” Holly asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Damn,” Holly breathed, going into one of the guest rooms to change. Two minutes later, she let Derek in.

  Derek plonked himself at the edge of the bed, sheer disappointment coursing through every part of him. He’d had high hopes that they’d find Man and His Secrets tonight.

  “We still haven’t looked inside the study downstairs,” Holly murmured. “It was locked the last time we checked.”

  “Have you thought of a reason for Ross to take you there?” Derek asked.

  “I’m hoping my brain would pop up with something during the course of the night,” Holly said with a sigh. “And, Derek… I hate to say this, but what if your uncle has already wiped out the writings? Or even destroyed the painting?”

  He inhaled deeply. “I very much doubt it. He was just talking to me about how my father’s works would shoot up in value even more after the big exhibition at the National Gallery next year. I’m sure that for several million dollars, he wouldn’t want to ruin or destroy the painting. Since the writing is in invisible ink, he could offload it to an unsuspecting buyer who would never have a reason to shine UV light at the back of it. Besides, Ross seems confident that we know nothing about it. I doubt he’d allow us to walk around his house by ourselves if he even remotely suspected anything.”

  “It scares me that his partnership with my parents means so much to him. If—when—your uncle gets caught, I hope Mum and Dad don’t get incriminated in any way.”

  “Your parents are still handling all the financial and legal stuff in the company?”

  “I think so. Ross’s only job so far is whatever he needs to do as the marketing director. So I still have no idea why he wanted to partner with my parents.”

  “It’s still possible it’s only to get information on their clients’ financial details, and not necessarily to use the company to hide his illegal or criminal activities.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Just keep being curious about what’s happening in your parents’ company. If Ross decides to take on a more hands-on executive role, we’ll have to let your parents in on the secret.”

  “I hate that Mum and Dad think the sun shines out of your uncle’s ass. Without proof, they’ll never believe he’s a killer.”

  Derek rubbed his face, his mind taking him back to the day he’d learned of his father’s death. His mother had been visiting an ill friend, and the police had tracked Derek down first with the shocking news. They’d said Richard McCarthy’s body was found on a quiet bushwalking trail at Narrabeen.

  It appeared his father had been taking pictures during some heavy rain, which hadn’t been unusual for the artist. Richard used to reference his photographs a lot, especially when painting landscapes. Investigations concluded that he’d slipped while walking down an incline that had become slippery, and had fatally hit his head on a rock.

  At the time, it hadn’t even crossed Derek’s mind that his father could have been murdered. Then his world had turned upside down when Xavier Stirling had knocked on his door the night after his father’s death.

  Holly’s brother, being a personal trainer, had been helping Richard get fit for a fundraising marathon that Richard had wanted to join. The two had developed a good friendship and, after the last of their workouts, Richard had handed Xavier a sealed envelope, with the instructions that if Richard failed to get it back from Xavier in two days’ time, Xavier was to hand the envelope to Derek—and Derek alone.

  Richard had been found dead the very next day after giving Xavier the letter. And when Xavier and Derek had opened the envelope, they’d been astounded by the contents.

  Richard had predicted the date of his death.

  Derek filled his lungs with air, remembering how Xavier had blamed himself for not acting quickly enough with the information Richard had verbally given him. But there was nothing Xavier could have done differently. He’d thought Richard had been merely telling him a story about Ross that was not at all connected to the letter. He couldn’t have anticipated what had happened.

  “Xavier just
texted,” Holly said. “He wants us to call.”

  Derek peeped out the door to ensure no one could be listening and nodded to Holly.

  Holly called her brother, putting him on speaker. “Hey, Xavier. What’s up?” she asked in a low voice.

  “Derek there?” Xavier asked.

  “I’m here,” Derek answered.

  “It looks like your uncle has another property at Palm Beach.”

  Derek glanced at Holly in surprise. “How do you know?”

  “A friend of mine just stayed there. Ross is renting it out for short-term stays as an Airbnb.”

  “How did your friend know it’s owned by Ross?”

  “He got there early on the day he started renting it and saw Ross taking the rubbish out. He’s met Ross. He’s been to one of Ross’s events before because his family owns a swimming pool business.”

  “Wait, wait. Ross was taking the rubbish out?” Derek asked in disbelief.

  “Yes. Apparently, the cleaner he’d hired was sick, so he had to do it. Anyway, Ross admitted that the place was his.”

  Derek’s breath shallowed. Palm Beach. A few suburbs away from where his father’s body had been found. “We need to get into that place, too.”

  “We can check the website for dates it’s available for booking,” Xavier said. “When we know it’s vacant, we can go have a look.”

  “You can’t risk getting caught like that, Xavier,” Holly warned.

  “I agree,” Derek said. “There’s no explaining illegal trespassing. You can’t afford to get in trouble.”

  Xavier sighed heavily.

  “Obviously, the best way into this Palm Beach property is by renting it ourselves,” Holly said. “I think I should be the one to do it because he likes me. We just need to have a compelling excuse why I want to book the place.”