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Back The Runaway Heiress
Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. PRAISE FOR MEG TILLY AND HER NOVELS
  3. TITLES BY MEG TILLY
  4. Dedication
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
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  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
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  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
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  42. 37
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  44. 39
  45. 40
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  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
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  54. 49
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  57. 52
  58. 53
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  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  69. Excerpt from SOLACE ISLAND
  70. 1
  71. 2
  72. 3
  73. 4
  74. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  75. What’s next onyour reading list?

“Harmony didn’t show up at work this morning. Thought nothing of it. Figured she’d been waylaid, had the flu, some such shit. Called her phone. Got diverted to voicemail. I’m in my office, trying to work, but your damned phone kept ringing. Somebody’s calling. Hanging up. Calling. Hanging up. Can’t take it. Answered the damn thing. It’s your gardener babbling at me. Can’t understand half of what he’s saying. Called Bob the intern in to translate. The gardener and his crew arrived to discover a dead woman floating facedown in the pool. I told him not to touch anything, called the cops, and met them at the property. I’m being a good guy, you see? I’m helping my friend who is out of town. You can imagine my shock when the cops flipped her over and I saw Harmony’s face. Shit.” Peterson’s voice broke. “And you know the worst part of this whole clusterfuck? When I hired her . . . I’d had hopes of someday seeing her naked . . .” He was sobbing now. “But not like this. Didn’t want to see her naked like this . . . Can’t dislodge the image from my brain . . .”

“Too bad she’s dead, denying you a chance to berate her for destroying your deviant fantasy life. Seriously, dude?”

“It’s easy for you to take the moral high ground.” Peterson swung from sorrow to rage, for which Mick was grateful. Anger was easier to deal with. “Women are always throwing themselves at you like handfuls of confetti. Me? I gotta work for every lay I get. And now you win again. Some chick dies in your pool, and who is here, cleaning up the mess? Me, that’s who! You’re off in New York, free and clear, bonking out the brains of your new assistant.”

“I’m not bonking her—”

“And what do I get?” Peterson’s voice was getting shrill. “My sexy assistant is dead. And they’ll probably try to pin the damned thing on me!”

“You need to calm down, Paul. Seriously. There is no reason they would make such an erroneous leap.”

“No, you dipshit! You don’t understand. What they are going to do is comb through her damned phone and make a big deal out of a few drunken emails or texts I might have sent her in the wee hours of the morn.”

“Hold on. You did what?”