Finding Mr. Fabulous


 
 
 FINDING MR. FABULOUS
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
 This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.
 This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. All trademarks and brand names are the property of their respective owners.
 
 FINDING MR. FABULOUS
 © 2023 Con Riley
 Cover artist: Natasha Snow
 Sensitivity Reader: N. Sutar.
 Editor: Sandy Bennett
 Production team: Annabelle, Garrett, Louise, Valerie, and Victoria.
 C/W: Mention of loss of parents. Discussion of its impact on young children. Racism. Colonialism.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ALSO BY CON RILEY
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Titles Set in the US
 
 
 
 
 
 Seattle Stories
 
 
 
 After Ben
 
 
 
 
 Saving Sean
 
 
 
 
 Aiden’s Luck
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Must Like Spinach
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Salvage Series
 
 
 
 Salvage
 
 
 
 
 Recovery
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Titles Set in Britain
 
 
 
 True Brit
 
 
 
 
 Be My Best Man
 
 
 
 
 
 
 His Series
 
 
 
 His Horizon
 
 
 
 
 His Compass
 
 
 
 
 His Haven
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Learning to Love
 
 
 
 Charles
 
 
 
 
 Sol
 
 
 
 
 Luke
 
 
 
 
 Austin
 
 
 
 
 Heppel Ever After
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 His Last Christmas in London
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 FINDING MR. FABULOUS
 
 
 
 
 CON RILEY
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 CONTENTS
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 1
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 2
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 3
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 4
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 5
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 6
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 7
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 8
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 9
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 10
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 11
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 12
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 13
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 14
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 15
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 16
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 17
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 18
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 19
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 20
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 21
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 22
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 23
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 24
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 25
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 26
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 27
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 28
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Epilogue
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Also by CON RILEY
 
 
 
 
 
 
 About the Author
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1
 
 
 
 
 
 
 I,
 Rex Heligan, can’t be the next Duke of Kara-Enys, not when I’m a terrible person. I must have black blood instead of royal blue, a throwback to when my family were Cornish smugglers instead of lords and city bankers.
 
 Why?
 
 Because my first response to seeing a thief through Timothy Smallbone’s study window is laughter.
 I should call the police instead of chuckling. Or hurry inside to let Smallbone know that someone’s getting handsy in his study. I do neither, taking a second look instead, double-checking that it is a thief I’ve spotted.
 It’s hard to see much detail at night with this Kensington townhouse deep in shadow. At least, I assume the room I stop beside is still a study. It’s been years since I set foot inside, back when Viscount Marlow was its owner. My grandfather used to play chess here whenever we were in London. Now it belongs to someone I wasn’t fond of at school and who hasn’t improved as a director of the bank I work for. And who, for some unknown reason, has invited me to a dinner I’m sure he’ll want me to choke on.
 I spot another flicker of movement through the window.
 There is
 somebody skulking inside this study, their movements stealthy. I catch a glimpse of a sharp, masculine jaw, a sheen of raven hair, the glint of a tooth digging into a lip, then he’s gone.
 I double back along the building, moving just as carefully as the thief who searches a desk while I wage an internal battle.
 Just because Smallbone’s been a dick about cancelling my leave lately doesn’t mean I can ignore this. Petty wanker or not, his father knew mine, a connection that compels me to do the right thing instead of watching. Or maybe that’s down to genetics, all Heligans being programmed to defend instead of waver.
 I call the police, or at least I mean to, only my phone chooses that moment to ring.
 I answer quickly, quietly, even though there’s no chance the thief can hear me above city traffic. “One moment.”
 He does lift his head from the desk drawer he