Secrets of the Tycoon's Bride Read Free Page A

of the mystery. Laur ence. Laur yn. According to Lauryn’s adoptive mother, Adrianna Laurence had insisted on the name. Was it because she wanted Lauryn to find her one day? Or because she couldn’t bear not being a part of her daughter’s life in some small way?
    Lauryn might never discover the reason, but it wouldn’t be from lack of trying on her part.
    If her father had told the truth then Lauryn wouldn’t be forced to use subterfuge to find her answers.
    Answers that, according to the letters, might be found in a diary hidden in a secret compartment beneath the closet floorboards of the estate Adam Garrison now owned.
    Were the diaries still there? Or had someone besides her mother known about them and removed them from their hiding place long ago? From Lauryn’s research she knew that her grandmother, the last surviving member of the Laurence clan, had died shortly before Adam bought the property.
    Doors will open for you, Adam had said.
    The only doors Lauryn wanted to open were the ones to that house. Her birthmother’s house. But she couldn’t just blurt out her odd request. If she did and Adam turned her down, then she’d have nowhere else to turn, and she’d never have her questions answered.
    And so the deceit began. She’d moved from California to Florida planning to befriend her new boss and gain his trust. She’d believed that once she did that, once she’d proven she wasn’t some flake with outlandish ideas, he’d be more likely to grant her bizarre request to pry up a few floorboards.
    Only it hadn’t worked out the way she’d hoped. She and Adam only saw each other in a business setting at biweekly meetings. There was nothing remotely personal in discussing the club’s bottom line and there were always other employees in the vicinity.
    And now…
    She stared at her steaming dinner with absolutely no appetite.
    Now, Adam’s crazy plan and her refusal to participate in it had probably ruined any chance of friendship or trust ever developing. She’d be lucky if she escaped this situation with her job.
    She’d have to find a way—short of marriage—to make amends or kiss her quest for answers goodbye.

Two
    G etting out of the building for an hour on Friday appealed to Lauryn about as much as winning the lottery.
    With the club operating from 11:00 p.m. to 5:00 a.m., Adam didn’t usually make appearances in the Estate offices until late afternoon. While he slept, a hive of office staff, custodians and food and beverage restockers did their jobs to prepare for the night ahead. Nevertheless, Lauryn had jumped at every sound this morning and looked forward to taking the bus to her favorite Dolphin Mall deli and spending a relaxing hour not worrying about Adam Garrison’s bizarre proposition.
    The clock ticked noon. Time to escape. Tension drained from her knotted shoulders. She pulled her purse from her desk and took her usual circuit through the club. With the lights turned low, the antebellum structure that had begun life as a French-owned casino looked as if it, too, were sleeping. Later this afternoon the building would awaken as the technicians tested every speaker and bulb and set up whatever stage requirements tonight’s entertainers demanded.
    The club was designed around a “night out at home” theme, and each room in the vast building had been set up with trendy leather sofas and chairs arranged in conversational nooks. There were multiple bars and dance floors on both levels, each having its own color scheme. State-of-the-art lighting and sound systems and top-notch live entertainment kept the place packed to its twenty-five-hundred-person capacity with an A-list crowd every night. Or so she’d heard. She hadn’t been a customer yet and probably never would be since she’d given up late-night partying years ago and she didn’t fit the guest profile.
    She paused to caress the