“Miss Carter,” she replies, her voice as warm as an arctic wind.
“Thank you for welcoming me to Castle McGregor. Callum has told me so much about this place—and your family…”
“Really?” she cuts in smoothly. “That’s interesting, considering he barely mentioned your existence until last week.”
And there it is. First direct hit.
I keep smiling. “Well, you know Callum. He’s very private when it comes to his personal life…”
“Not with his family.”
I feel Callum tense beside me. Thankfully, Maggie steps in.
“Isobel, you’ll have all of dinner to interrogate the poor girl. Let her breathe for five minutes.”
She winks at me, then nods toward Jamison. “I believe we’re ready to dine.”
Dinner is served in a dining room that looks like it belongs inDownton Abbey. A long oak table dominates the space, surrounded by chairs that have probably hosted generations of McGregors. Silver candelabras cast soft light across the room, and more stern-faced ancestors stare down from the walls.
I’m seated between Callum and Lachlan—which feels both reassuring and dangerous. Reassuring because Callum can step in if I crash and burn. Dangerous because Lachlan looks like he’s just waiting for that exact moment.
“So, Jane,” Isobel begins as Jamison serves us a rather mysterious-looking soup. “Callum tells me you’re an actress.”
The way she saysactresssounds suspiciously close tocon artist.
I take a sip of soup to buy time. It’s surprisingly good.
“Yes, that’s right,” I say with a smile. “Though I’ll admit, I’m no Meryl Streep.”
“And what films have you appeared in?” she presses. “Anything I might know?”
Callum clears his throat, ready to intervene, but I beat him to it.
“Unless you’re a fan of low-budget dramas and truly terrible movies, probably not. My most recent masterpiece was calledTropical Love, where I played a meteorologist who falls for a surfer during a hurricane. Trust me—it was even worse than it sounds.”
Keira bursts out laughing, and even Maggie smiles faintly. Isobel remains unmoved.
“I see. And how exactly did you meet my son?”
Panic rises in my chest. We practiced this. Werehearsedthis. And yet suddenly my brain is as empty as my bank account.
“We met during one of my business trips to Los Angeles,” Callum says quickly. “At a professional event.”
“In a bar,” I blurt at the exact same time.
Our eyes meet. Pure panic.
“A hotel bar,” Callum corrects stiffly. “Where the professional event was being held.”
“Exactly!” I jump in, far too enthusiastically. “A very classy hotel bar. I was there because… well…”
“She was meeting a director about a potential role,” Callum supplies, trying to drag us back on script.
And that’s when my brain completely betrays me.
“Actually, I was working there as a waitress!” I announce brightly. “Between roles, you know—Hollywood can be rough.”
Callum nearly chokes on his soup.
