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“We have a plan.” Maddox taps his fingers on the proposal he has ready to hand out.
“Can’t you?” Barbara Burns, Bingeflix’s CEO, quirks a brow at Maddox. “You got a pretty penny when you sold your production company to us.”
“I did, but it’s not enough to fund the whole thing.” Maddox shakes his head.
“Aren’t you a billionaire?” Barbara leans back in her chair, interlacing her fingers.
“Not quite. I’m still establishing myself. My dad is the billionaire.”
Hmm. I thought he was too. But now that he says he isn’t, I realize that all the exorbitantly nice and expensive things come from his dad. Not that it matters to me, but I’d just assumed.
As if reading my thoughts, Barbara says, “What about dear old dad?”
“I’m not asking him,” Maddox says, his jaw tense.
“You, Riley? Family money?” She meets my eyes.
“Uh, no. None.” My lips quirk into a nervous grin. “But Maddox and I have a fundraising plan.”
I reach over and take the spreadsheets Maddox and I made, and she puts a hand up. “Look, we don’t have time for all that right now. I trust that you have a financing plan. I love the story idea. If you can raise half the funds, we’ll match it.”
My pulse flies. “Okay, thank you.”
Maddox gives Barbara the full wattage of his smile. “We can definitely raise half, no problem.”
“Well, then.” Barbara looks up and down the table to all the suits. “I want this story. Maddox clearly wants this story. How about you, gentlemen?”
Their heads all nod in synchrony, and my spirits lift even higher.
Smith’s face pinches. “I don’t know—“
“You’re not going to direct it, Smith,” Barbara cuts in. “So don’t worry about it. We’ll have Seth do it—he’s got experience with period dramas.”
“Okay, sure,” Smith squeaks out, like his balls just shrank.
Barbara dismisses the room, and once everyone is gone, Maddox pulls me into a tight hug, and I squeal into his shoulder.
It seems like this might really happen—aLords of Lairemovie!
After the meeting, I approach my dressing room door, and a stranger is standing there holding a briefcase. “Hello, Ms. Riley Glenn?” he says in a Scottish accent.
I hesitate. “Yes. That’s me.”
He exhales a long breath. “Thank God I found you.” He swipes his brow. “I’m Duncan Kelly, your grandmum’s probate lawyer. You came to my flat when you were in Scotland, but I’d left town for a family emergency. I flew across the pondbecause I have some important paperwork for you. From your grandmum, Ms. Winifred Glenn.”
I blink, my mind spinning like a DJ. I look up and down the hall to see if anyone else is around, and there’s no one. I can’t have Jemma knowing my business. So, I say, “Come in. Please.”
Once he’s in my dressing room and seated on the couch, he opens his briefcase and pulls out a stack of papers. “Your grandmum willed you the deed to Laire’s Castle.”
I freeze as his words echo in my head. When I find my voice, I say, “I don’t understand.” My mouth goes dry. Laire’s Castle? He’s got to be kidding.
Duncan taps the papers. “A handful of years before she passed, she bought Laire’s Castle. Mac, who you met, has been running it, and if no one came to dump her ashes within six months, the deed would’ve passed to him. But you came.” Duncan clears his throat.
“You’re saying my grams bought that castle.” My tone is incredulous. “She didnotbuy that castle.”
“She did. And now it’s yours.”
“Mine? I own a castle.” I stare at this man. “I own acastle!”
