The Billionaire’s Curse Read Online Free Page B

some family history?”
    Gerald’s mother sniffed sharply and drained her champagne glass, which was refilled almost immediately by Mr. Fry, who had been hovering in the background.
    “Thank you, Fry. You are a dear,” Vi said.
    The attendant bowed low and, with an almost inaudible “Madam is too kind,” withdrew to a serving cart at the rear of the dining area, still within earshot of the conversation around the table.
    “Gerald,” Mr. Prisk began, picking up one of the piles of documents on the table and consulting the top sheet through his glasses, “your great-aunt was a most interesting woman.”
    “Well, I wouldn’t know. I never even met her,” Gerald said. “But I get to go to her funeral. Oh joy.”
    “Gerald!” His mother spluttered through a mouthful of salmon.
    Mr. Prisk raised an eyebrow. “Gerald, your great-aunt was a woman of many dimensions,” he continued. “Tomorrow she will be buried in a small cemetery in London. There will be a great number of people there to say their farewells. She was a unique woman.”
    “Unique? In what way?”
    “Well, Gerald,” Mr. Prisk said, clearing his throat. “There is probably no tactful way of saying this, so I guess I’ll have to say it straight out. Your great-aunt was—”
    “Just about the richest woman in the whole world!” burst out Vi with a gleeful shriek. She banged her champagne glass on the table, sending a fountain of bubbles over Mr. Prisk’s papers.
    For the second time in twenty-four hours, Gerald marveled at how happy his mother looked.



C HAPTER T HREE

    “Y es, Gerald,” Mr. Prisk continued, dabbing his sodden paperwork with a napkin. “It is true that your great-aunt was a woman of means. She was heir to the Archer estate and managed her affairs with tremendous skill. She built a small fortune into a great one.”
    Mr. Fry fussed around Vi with a cloth, sopping up her spilled drink, before pressing another glass of champagne into her hand.
    “Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins, your entrée is getting cold,” Mr. Prisk said. “Why not eat your lunch and I’ll bring Gerald up-to-date?”
    “Very well, Mr. Prisk,” Vi said, stabbing a forkful of salmon. “But don’t take too long. You and I have much to discuss.”
    Excusing himself, Mr. Prisk stood and indicated that Gerald should follow him. They walked past the lounge area to the front of the plane and climbed to the upper deck to a spacious office suite. This must have been where Mr. Prisk was earlier in the flight, Gerald thought.
    “This is a working plane,” the lawyer explained as he sat down behind a tidy desk and waved Gerald into a seat opposite. “Your great-aunt insisted that she be able to operate the family business from anywhere in the world.”
    Gerald sat bewildered.
    “Mr. Prisk,” he started, “I have no idea who my great-aunt was. I just want to go to the snow with my friend and enjoy my holiday.”
    Mr. Prisk regarded Gerald carefully.
    “How old are you, son?”
    “I’m almost fourteen,” Gerald said.
    “Yes,” Mr. Prisk murmured. “You ought to learn a bit more about your great-aunt. You know you’re named after her, don’t you?”
    Gerald took a breath. He loathed his name. Gerald. Ger-ald. He could never understand why his parents had lumbered him with such a boat anchor to drag around for life.
    “I was named after her?” he said in disbelief. “Oddly enough, I don’t consider that a bonus.”
    Mr. Prisk ignored the remark and went on, “The funeral is tomorrow. Your family has made an unusual request. Immediately after the ceremony there will be a reading of the will. Now, this is much sooner than is customary but, because of the sheer scale of Miss Archer’s fortune, you can imagine there are a lot of people keen to hear what she might have left them.”
    Realization dawned on Gerald’s face.
    “My mother included,” he said. “Yes, things are getting a bit clearer now.”
    That was why his mother had been acting so strangely.