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for dinner tomorrow night.’”
“Not tomorrow night. I have to fly to Bangkok on business. Then London. But I’ll be back on Friday. What about that Friday night?”
“Done,” she said promptly. “I’ll ask Hannah to prepare your favorite curried chicken.”
He made a teasing comment in Cantonese about the way to a man’s heart, but Mei-li didn’t rise to the bait. He was just about to disconnect when she said, “You never answered my question. Should I tell Alana anything?”
“That would be a big n-o.”
His sister laughed softly. Meaningfully. And Jason knew she’d correctly interpreted exactly what it meant.
* * *
The following Friday Jason drove his fire-engine-red Jaguar F-TYPE SVR Coupe up Mount Austin Road, effortlessly shifting gears as he darted between traffic. He was running late and had already texted his sister before he left—there’d been a customs holdup with his private jet at the airport. Nothing serious, just annoying and time-consuming. Then he’d stopped at a florist on the way, one he often used. He’d called ahead and placed his order, so his floral apology for being late was ready and waiting for him when he arrived. But it still ate up more precious minutes.
If any car could make up for lost time, though, it was his beloved Jag. He’d driven Jaguars since his first car at eighteen, a birthday present from his maternal grandfather over the protests of his parents. Unlike his private jet, which was a necessity for his business, and unlike his penthouse condo in an exclusive area of the island, which had been a gift from his grandfather when he graduated from Oxford with highest honors thirteen years ago, the Jag was his only self-indulgence. His only concession to an inheritance that sometimes seemed more of a curse than a blessing.
It had bothered him greatly when his grandfather’s will had been read, and he’d learned that not only had his old-school Chinese grandfather passed over his only child—the daughter who he’d never truly forgiven for marrying a foreigner against his wishes—he also hadn’t divided his vast wealth equally between his two grandchildren. Minor shares in the company had been bequeathed to Jason’s mother and sister, along with some personal effects, but the bulk of the estate had been left to Jason...the only male heir.
That’s not right, he’d furiously stated to his grandfather’s solicitor in the office where the will was being read.
He’d immediately offered to sign everything over to his mother, who’d only smiled and shook her head. I knew what I was doing when I married your father, she’d said in her gentle voice, turning her breathtaking smile on her husband, famed producer/director Sir Joshua Moore. I have no regrets.
And though Jason had still been angry over his grandfather’s actions, it had been impossible not to be moved by the loving, wordless exchange between his parents. He’d grown up seeing their devotion to each other all his life, of course. But in that moment he’d finally understood what it really meant. And for the first time in his life he’d actively prayed to find a woman like his mother. A woman who would sacrifice everything for him.
“Ten years,” he whispered now, shifting gears automatically as the traffic ahead of him slowed. “Ten years, and still...”
He’d never found her. Never found the woman who would look at him with that unmistakable expression in her eyes, the one that said the world was well lost if she had him. “Wishing for the moon,” he scoffed at himself. And yet...
Mei-li had found a man who looked at her that way. Not once, but twice. First Sean all those years ago, and now DeWinter. But then, his sister never had to worry about being loved for anything other than her wonderful self. Mei-li had turned him down when he’d offered to split the inheritance evenly between them. Had she somehow seen into the future and divined the price Jason would pay for that wealth...and wanted nothing to do with it?
He took the turn that would lead him to the DeWinter estate and drove nearly half a mile before pulling up in front of the gate, no closer to an answer than he was when he’d started his little soul-searching episode. He rolled down the window and touched the electronic key card that would open the gate against the card reader. His sister had given it to him when the DeWinters had moved up here. He hadn’t told her he already had one—he’d designed the estate’s security for his sister and brother-in-law, and his company had installed the entire system. And like some software designers, he’d made sure he had “backdoor” access.
He tapped his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel, waiting for the gate to swing open, then drove through. The Jag passed through an electronic beam, and the gate automatically shut behind him.
A minute later Jason pulled up to the main house, but to his surprise there was a police car parked in front of it. Perturbed, he grabbed the flowers off the seat next to him and headed for the front door, which swung open before he could ring the bell. “Sorry I’m late,” he told his sister, holding the flowers out in front of him, but hooking a finger over his shoulder at the police car. “What are the po—” He stopped abruptly, because the somber expression on Mei-li’s face warned him. “What’s wrong?”
“The police are here to question Alana again,” she said. “It hasn’t hit the news yet, but it will soon. There was another abduction while you were gone. Almost the exact same MO as the way she was snatched. On a crowded street. In broad daylight.”
“I really can’t tell you anything more about the men who grabbed me,” Alana was saying when Jason approached the family room. “I wish I could.” From her voice Jason could tell she was practically in tears. “Especially now that another woman—” She broke off abruptly, then continued. “But they were wearing masks that completely covered their heads and faces except for their eyes. Then I was unconscious when they transported me to...wherever. I already told you they were speaking Cantonese when I could hear them, but they kept me blindfolded the entire time. I have no idea what they look like or where they were holding me, or anything.”
Both policemen turned when Jason and Mei-li walked into the room, and his sister quickly said, “You know Detective Inspector Lam, of course, of the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau. And this is Sergeant Wo of the same unit. Sergeant, this is my brother, Jason Moore. We were expecting him for dinner.” She turned to Alana and added smoothly, with almost no hesitation, “And this is Alana Richardson, Dirk’s executive assistant. She was abducted last Sunday and miraculously rescued. I told you about it, remember? The police are here trying to learn what they can.”
“Unnecessary to introduce me to either gentleman,” Jason said. He shook hands with the two policemen, addressing them formally. “Detective Inspector. Sergeant. Good to see you again, although not under these circumstances.” Then he turned to Alana, who had risen to greet him when the policemen did, and took her hand. “Miss Richardson. Glad to make your acquaintance. I was very sorry to hear from Mei-li what you had to go through, but needless to say I’m happy you suffered no permanent injury.”
Alana’s eyes widened as he spoke, and Jason cursed internally. Although he allowed nothing but polite interest to reflect in his expression, he realized she’d made the connection. She knew who he was. There was no way she recognized his face, so it had to be his voice.
She didn’t blurt it out, however, and Jason gave her bonus points for quick thinking and effective dissimulation. “I’m glad to meet you, too, Mr. Moore. Your sister has told me a lot about you. And Linden and Laurel are full of their ‘Unca Jason,’” she said. “You’re quite a favorite with them.”
Jason let himself smile in response. “And they’re quite the favorites with me, too.” Then he glanced at the policemen. “But don’t let me interrupt. You were in the middle of an interrogation, yes?”
“Not an interrogation,” the detective inspector was quick to point out, his face impassive. “Miss Richardson is a victim,