Chapter One
The wedding of the decade was to take place in Ruby Lake in seven days.
Ariana Westwood, eldest daughter of the rugged cottage havenâs oldest and most influential family was slated to marry prominent investment banker, Jackson OâConnell, in a lakeside ceremony guaranteed to be both lavish and tasteful. A perfect union among a sea of wealth that spent its summers unwinding, socializing and indulging in activities far better left to the whispers that slipped across the lake than the boundaries beyond.
A coup it surely should have been for Claire Westwood, the matriarch o f the Westwood clan, who stood at the railing of her palatial cottage estate looking down at the water, a glass of ice-cold Riesling in her hand. Jackson was everything sheâd ever wanted for her daughterâwealthy, kind, smart and possessed of enough backbone to handle the willful and spirited Ariana. The perfect match.
But harmony would not be the word of the day. Instead she was about to blow the illusion of perfection off this idyllic community set deep in the heart of northern Ontario. To shake up Ruby Lake like the lightning storms that ripped across the mile-wide body of water, lighting up the night like fireworks and touching every soul in its path. And hope that somewhere therein lay the path to redemption.
A solitary figure among the hundreds of family, friends and wedding party members whoâd gathered to celebrate the upcoming nuptials, Claire lifted her glass to her mouth and sipped the chilled wine. The sun was setting, casting its trademark ruby glow across the water. The urge to take her secret to the grave with her as sheâd always intended came back, overwhelmingly strong. She would have done just that had she not seen her life go in that very direction just weeks ago in a small plane crash on her way to Ruby Lake. It had reminded her how short, how precious, life was. How, despite her selfish ways, she loved her family more than she loved life itself.
How she could no longer continue to play God with her childrenâs lives.
Her choice made, she turned back to the guests and located her tall, slim, vivacious daughter, Ariana, standing at her fiancéâs side. She was smiling up at him, a bright light as always, but there were shadows in her blue eyes. Claireâs fingers tightened around her glass. It was time to set the ball in motion. To make things right.
She started across the deck toward her daughter, skirting Arianaâs ultra-efficient wedding planner, Tyra Brown, and Jacksonâs best man, Nick Taylor, quaffing down a cocktail while he flirted with a pretty dark-haired member of the catering staff. Her progress was halted mid-stride by the arrival of her former husband, Bradley Westwood, a perfectly-put-together blonde at his side. Her mouth tightened. Always a flirt, her husband had spent their marriage making a profession of it until she couldnât take it anymore. Until sheâd done the unthinkableâ¦.
Her gaze met his cool, guarded one. So winning her husband back was going to be a challenge? Her chin lifted. Fortunately sheâd never met a game she couldnât win and thatâs what this was all about. Restoring the natural order of things.
***
The whir of helicopter blades filled the night air. Felicity Kane, Arianaâs maid of honour, stopped in mid-sentence. She frowned and lifted her eyes skyward, waiting until the chopper had touched down to speak.
âI thought everyone was here.â
Arianaâs heart dropped to her toes. If she could have forgotten for even ten seconds who the last remaining guest to arrive was, it would have been a major victory. Instead sheâd spent the past hour searching the sky for the big black bird he piloted.
âItâs Hunter,â she muttered weakly, flicking an imaginary speck of dirt off her dress. âHeâs the last.â
âOh, no.â Felicity waved a finger at her. âYou do not say his name like that. You say it in a I-want-to-kick-your-butt kind of way. Like, âYou walked out on me and left me broken-hearted and I feel nothing for you.ââ
Ariana smiled her first real smile of the evening. The fact that she had seriously cold feet on the eleventh hour of her wedding couldnât have anything to do with Hunter⦠Could it? Heâd walked away from her and Ruby Lake after his rogue trader father, Michael, had skipped town with half the lakeâs money and built himself into a billionaire real-estate developer with a freshly minted reputation. And installed Arianaâs old rival as his fiancée and glamorous dinner party host.
She wrung her clammy hands together, Jacksonâs massive diamond sparkling in the lights. It wasnât possible she could still care. Was it? How much more could she hurt?
Arianaâs sister, Georgia, ran to the railing and peered over at the helipad. Her young and very impressionable jaw dropped.