Falling for His Proper Mistress
Claiming Her Billion-Dollar Birthright
Maureen Child
To family.
Mine. Yours.
And to all the wonderful, irritating moments
we share with them.
Christian Hanford refused to sit in a dead man’s chair.
So instead, he walked to the front of Don Jarrod’s desk and perched uneasily on the edge. The old man’s study was in the family living quarters on the top floor of Jarrod Manor. Here at Jarrod Ridge resort, everything was luxurious. Even a study that the public never saw. Paneled walls, thick carpets, original oils on the walls and a massive fireplace built of river stones. Of course, there was no cheerful blaze in the hearth, since summer had settled over Colorado.
He imagined none of the people in the room felt cheerful anyway. How could he blame them? They’d lost their father only a week before and now, they’d just had the proverbial rug pulled out from under them.
Years ago, each of the Jarrod children had left Jarrod Ridge, the plush resort that had been in their family for generations, to make their own way. Their father had pushed them all so hard to succeed that he’d managed to drive them away, one by one. To come back now, when it was too late to mend fences, was a hard thing to accept.
Not to mention the fact that in death, Don had figured out a way to not only bring them all home—but to keep them there. Something he hadn’t been able to do in life.
The huge Jarrod estate was to be divided equally among his children—on the condition that they all move home and take over running their legacy. Each of the Jarrod siblings had been slapped hard and none of them were happy about it. The old man had found a way to control them from the grave.
Which wasn’t sitting well.
Christian watched them all, understanding how they must feel, but sworn to abide by his late client’s wishes. God knows he’d tried to talk Don out of this, but the old man had been nothing if not stubborn.
Blake Jarrod and his brother Guy were the oldest. Though not identical, the twins each carried the stamp of their father. Blake was more the buttoned-down type, while Guy was a bit more easygoing. Gavin was two years younger than the twins, but he and Blake had worked together for quite a while out in Vegas.
Trevor Jarrod was the most laid-back of the bunch—or at least that was the demeanor he showed
the world. Then there was Melissa. The youngest and the only girl.
Or so she thought.
Christian sent a mental kick out to his