Page 39 of Catching a Con Man

So I’d changed into a nice set of clothes from my capsule wardrobe; a pair of jeans, a shirt and a soft navy cashmere jumper, put my stolen Rolex on and styled my hair so that I felt the part. But as the massive gates opened and I couldn’t even spot the house down the driveway, I suddenly felt like all the acting in the world couldn’t make me one of them. None of this bling would turn me into a billionaire, and much as I’d started relaxing around Ade, these people were alien to me.

The house came into view after a minute, thoughhousefelt an inadequate word for the massive manor ahead. It was three storeys of brick and glass, unmistakably regal and impossibly grand. “Welcome to Crane Manor,” said Ade quietly as the tarmac driveway gave way to yellow gravel in front of the house. There was already a classic Jaguar parked up near the colossal front doors, but Ade sighed as he got out of the car and seemed to examine the front of the Jag. I took a deep breath before getting out of the car and joining him next to the vehicle.

“Oh,” was all I could think to say. On the opposite side of the car, the headlight had been shorn off, and the entire side of the car was covered in deep grooves and scratches. “That’s not good.”

“Dylan,” Ade offered by way of explanation.

“Your youngest brother?” I asked.

“Yup. I bought him this car for his twenty-first birthday. I’dhopedhe would respect the hard work and value of money in it, but apparently not.”

“Isn’t that like…an hour’s wage for you now?”

“Not the point,” Ade sighed. There was a conscientious cough behind us and we turned to face the noise. Ade’s hand found mine automatically, thumb rubbing comforting circles over my palm. Stood in the doorway was a beautiful young woman with dirty-blonde hair. She was dressed in jeans and a simple turquoise crop-top, but she wore them like she was walking the catwalk. She looked like the kind of person who could wear a potato sack and it’d still look chin.

“Dylan says sorry,” she said.

“And why isn’t he telling him myself?” Ade asked.

The woman sauntered over to us and held out her hand to me. “Eliza Crane,” she said. And suddenly my mind connected that beautiful face to a million magazines and photoshoots. She waseverywhere.

“Tyler…Bevan,” I said, finally remembering my name and how to shake hands like a civilised person.Well done, Ty.

Eliza turned to Ade. “Dylan isn’t telling you himself because he wasn’t sure how furious you’d be, on a scale ofthat’s fucking annoyingtoI’m going to wring that littletwat’sneck.”

“I still haven’t decided,” Ade grumbled. I gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and he looked down at me. I held eye contact until his lips quirked upward into the tiniest smile.

“Let’s go meet the rest of the family,” he said. “Keep hold of this hand so I don’t strangle my kid brother.”

“Like you’ve never totalled a car,” Eliza teased like it was the most normal thing in the world. She and Ade walked in lockstep toward the house, and I kept a hold of Ade’s hand as we passed into the foyer. The house was beautiful and so unlike anything I’d seen so far in this world. Holden and Ade were big fans of modern minimalism, but this house screamed old money.

“I run a car company. Wehaveto total our cars to test them, sis. But no, I’ve never totalled a car that I’ve been driving.”

“No fun. Mum’s in the kitchen,” said Eliza as she sauntered up the stairs.

“Come and meet my mother then,” Ade said, giving my hand a tug as I followed him into a big cottage kitchen with an island in the middle. A blonde woman in an apron had her back to us, and was putting a tray of bubbling batter into an Aga cooker. “Right, that’s the Yorkshires in, I just need to get the carrots done and then…” I wasn’t sure if she was talking to herself or had heard Ade come in, but she tailed off as she turned to face us. “Hello,” she said.

Myrtle Crane was every bit as beautiful as her old magazine shoots, and had aged with grace and poise in a way that so many women in her position failed to do. Her face was lined, but healthy, and her blue eyes were bright. For a woman in her sixties, she looked pretty damn good. Her apron was covered in flour and gravy stains, but like Eliza, I felt like no item of clothing could look anything less than glamorous on her figure.

“Are all your family freakishly good looking?” I asked the room.

“Well, with flattery like that, you’ll fit right in.” Myrtle Crane had enveloped me in a floury hug. She smelled of the kitchen, baking bread and fresh vegetables. “I’m Myrtle, Addison Junior’s mother. It’s so wonderful to meet the young man he’s told me so much about.”

“I haven’t told you anything, Mum,” Ade said. For the first time, I could see him as a kid, being admonished by his mum for forgetting to wash his hands before eating, or staying out too late.

“Exactly. It’s a scandal that Cam has had to tell me how smitten you are third-hand. Ridiculous, really.”

“Sorry, Mum.”

“Right. This is no time for apologies. It’s a time forwine.” Myrtle headed to a rack by the huge American-style fridge-freezer and pulled out an unlabelled bottle. I exchanged a quick smirk with Ade. I wasreadyfor this.

Myrtle poured three generous glasses and held hers up. We clinked, and I sniffed the glass, swirling the wine before taking a sip. It was a different wine than the one Ade had in his penthouse, but with a similar profile.

“Is there…cherry in this? And maybe blackberry?” I asked.

Myrtle’s face lit up. “Oh, Addison. You have been keeping an absolute treasure under wraps. Tyler, you must come out to the vineyards with me one day. Maybe Addison can give you a day off next week for a quick day trip. Cameron hadn’t told me we were getting aconnoisseur.”

I could feel myself blushing, and was only saved from having to say something by a beeping from the oven.

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