“I’m on my way,” she said, then hung up. She speed-dialed the taxi and waited inside until she saw the white Lincoln winding its way down the drive. Thankfully, there was no snow; the skies were blue and the temperature bitter-cold, but she didn’t care.

She was about to write the biography of the richest man in the country.

“How’s that?” she asked her reflection in the mirror, then stepped outside, allowing the driver to take her luggage and stow it in the trunk.

Seattle, here I come.

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Lauren expected Mr. G’s private plane to be one giant advertisement for his company. It was not. She waited inside the small airport while they loaded her single piece of luggage onto the enormous aircraft. It was all white and sleek, like a giant swan that had swooped down to earth. She saw nothing gaudy or outrageous about the plane. If one could be discreet with an aircraft this size, Mr. Giampalo had accomplished it, hands down. Though she had to wait a few minutes before they took her to board, she couldn’t wait to see the interior. She was still nervous about the flight, though, to her credit, Angela was right. No puddle jumper here. She took a deep breath, then slowly let it out, hoping to stay as calm as possible when she met Mr. Giampalo. Though Angela hadn’t said he’d be on the flight. Of course he wouldn’t. How juvenile of me to think otherwise.

“Ms. Montgomery?”

“Yes?”

“We’re ready to board,” said a nondescript gentleman dressed in perfectly creased navy slacks, a crisp white shirt, and a matching blazer. “If you’ll allow me?” He reached for her black bag.

“Thank you,” she said.

Feeling awkward and a bit stiff with the unexpected formalities, she supposed this was required of them. Just one small aspect of the man whose life story she’d learn in a matter of days. Lauren took it all in, knowing that when she sat down to write, details that seemed unimportant now would matter to those who spent their hard-earned money to read about a multibillionaire. A self-made one, too. She owed it to them to soak up as much as she could and do her very best to re-create what she had observed firsthand.

As soon as she stepped outside, another man in a spiffed-up golf cart drove her to the plane. Her pal, who still had her bag, sat behind her. This was rich. Truly. She’d file this bit of information away. Lauren had a code she followed when writing a biography: no gossipy tidbits. If an employee, a friend, or a family member revealed a personal habit, anything she didn’t deem valuable, it would not go into her biography. Of course, she always gave the first draft to the recipient. So far, she hadn’t had any complaints.