Malcolm leaned heavily on his cane, looking appalled. “My God,” he said, his voice hollow. “Tim. Is this true?”
Tim’s face tightened, and it took him a long time to answer. “I... I’m sorry.”
Malcolm shoulders slumped. He sank down into the chair. “Oh, Tim. What in God’s name have you done?”
“I’m sorry,” Tim repeated brokenly. “I had no choice. It was Richie. He got into drugs down there in LA. He got into trouble with his dealers. He owed them money. Mobster types. A whole lot of money. They were going to hurt him.”
“And instead of coming to me and asking for my help, after twenty-five years of working together, you decide to steal from me,” Malcolm said. “And to set up an innocent woman to take the fall. For the love of God, Tim. How could you do that to her?”
“You sleazebag liar,” Vann said. “Sophie could have gone to prison for years.”
“I had to keep them from going after Richie.” Bryce pushed himself up onto his elbow. “Try to understand, Malcolm. Those men who were after him—”
“Get back down on the floor,” Vann snarled. “If you get up, I’ll hit you again.”
Bryce looked up at Zack, who deliberately lifted his arms, freeing Vann. “I won’t stop him,” Zack said coldly. “You’re on your own, Bryce.”
Bryce’s face crumpled, and he collapsed back onto the carpet. “I was afraid they would kill Richie,” he said thickly. “I knew it was wrong, and of course I was sorry to do that to her, but imagine yourself in my place. Would you rather see some random woman spending a few years in a medium-security prison for a white-collar crime, or see your son tortured or murdered?”
Vann’s fists shook. He looked over at Zack. “Please, get this piece of garbage out of my sight. For his own safety.”
Zack nodded. “On your feet, Tim,” he said. “Let’s go get this thing started.”
Tim struggled upright, swaying on his feet. Vann and Malcolm watched Zack lead the shambling, slump-shouldered man out of Malcolm’s office.
The door fell shut behind him. The two men gazed at each other.
“So, then,” Vann said flatly. “That’s settled. I’ll be on my way.”
“I take it you’re going to follow her?” Malcolm asked.
“Of course I am,” Vann said. “Not that it’s your business. She’s already told me to burn in hell. She thinks I set her up for this horror show. I have you to thank for that.”
“Me? Hah!” Malcolm snorted. “I didn’t do a damn thing! You were the one who misbehaved and got caught with your hand in the cookie jar, so watch your mouth!”
“I don’t see why I should,” Vann replied. “You fired my ass, Malcolm. There’s no reason for me to watch my mouth with you any longer.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Malcolm scoffed. “I was overwrought. Things are not what they seemed a short while ago. You may now consider yourself officially unfired. For now at least. If you behave.”
Vann shook his head. “I’m not in the mood to behave, or to be unfired. I have more important things to do right now than work for you, and I don’t know how long they’re going to take. Go ahead and hire someone to replace me. Screw this job.”
“Don’t be a fool, Vann,” Malcolm blustered.
“I love that woman, you know that?” Vann said forcefully. “I want her to be my wife. The mother of my children. Till death do us part. You and Bryce killed that.”
“Well, guess what, boy? You’re not the only one who lost something today,” Malcolm said. “Sophie came to me in good faith, and I attacked her, brutally. I destroyed my chance to makes things right with her. Vicky’s girl. My own flesh and blood.”
“I sure do hope that you’re not asking me to feel sorry for you,” Vann said. “Because you caught me on a bad day for that.”
“Oh, shut up,” Malcolm snapped. “Take your smart ass and your superior attitude and get out of my face. Go get her. And good luck with it.”
Vann headed for the door.
“Vann!” Malcolm called as he pulled it open. “When you find her, please tell her that I hope she’ll give me another chance.”
Vann turned to look at the older man. “Hunt her down and tell her yourself if you give a damn,” he said. “It’ll mean more to her if you do. I’m not your errand boy.”
“Out!” Malcolm roared. “I’ve had enough of your lip! Get gone!”
Vann did exactly that, his pace quickening with every step he took. By the time he reached the parking lot, he was running as if his life depended on it.
Twenty
Sophie jerked out of the nightmare, a scream caught in her throat.
God. Every time she drifted off, she had the same ugly dream. She was naked in a cage and people filed by, peering through the bars like she was an animal on display. She huddled, hiding her nakedness under her tangled, matted hair.
Then she saw Vann, standing beyond the crowd. Their eyes met. He shook his head slowly, then turned his back and walked away.
Every time, she leaped up and rattled the bars, screaming his name. But Vann never turned around. He didn’t seem to hear her.
Her own scream woke her every time, and she was freshly furious at herself for being so vulnerable, even in a dream. He wasn’t worth her tears, damn it.
She swung her legs over the lounge chair and sat up. She’d fallen asleep reading an article on becoming a security consultant while lying under a canopy of drooping wisteria blossoms, and the afternoon light sifted through them, bathing her in a luminous lavender-tinted glow. Every puff of the scented breeze showered her with flower petals. A fountain gurgled in the courtyard.
She got up, stretched and climbed up to the terrace that overlooked the sea. The breeze blew her hair back and fluttered her crumpled linen dress. The ancient villa was built right on the edge of a sea cliff that overlooked the colorful, gorgeous scenic town of Positano, which clung to the side of the stunning Amalfi Coast. The sea was an endless, aching blue. Puffy clouds floated in the afternoon sky. Behind her, the courtyard was a mass of lemon and orange trees, their tender, pale new leaves fluttering in the breeze.
It should be easier to breathe here. Her happiest memories were in this place. But she’d had fantasies of showing this place to Vann. A lovers’ paradise.
That was uniquely depressing right now.
To think that she’d come to Positano to cheer herself up. The Palazzo Valente in Florence was magnificent and beautiful, but too grand in scale for a single woman to rattle around in. It was made for a dynasty. She should probably sell it to some big sprawling family. Being alone in it felt like a personal failure.
But one thing at a time. There was so much to stress about. Her broken heart, her hurt pride, her damaged dignity, her trashed career, her crushed hopes. Whether anyone on earth would ever want to hire her again. She could take her pick of disasters.
But right now, her main challenge was just remembering how to breathe.
She hadn’t known how attached to the family fantasy she’d actually become. Initially she’d done it for Mom, of course. Asking Sophie to approach Malcolm had been Mom’s final attempt to heal that ancient wound. Sophie respected that, and had wanted to honor it.
But it had backfired in such a spectacular way. She’d been publicly rejected, in every way. By her father, her lover, even her workplace. Humiliated, disgraced, banished.
It had been too much to hope for. The family she’d hoped to join. The man she’d hoped to marry. She’d fallen like overripe fruit for the happy daydream of Sophie and Vann, blissful together. Sprinkle on some more fantasy ingredients: Malcolm welcoming her, wanting to know her. Cousins Drew and Ava drawing her into their inner circle. The noise and laughter of a big extended family. Love and sex and babies. Life’s adventures and milestones, all faced together with a partner. Growing old together, hand in hand.
A flaw just couldn’t get more fatal than that.
She’d blocked all her Maddox Hill contacts on social media, and changed her phone number. This increased her isolation, but seeing online gossip about her professional reputation was more than she could bear right now.
Staring at the beautiful sunsets over the sea just reminded her of Mom, on the terrace every evening, pining for Malcolm. Letting all of her other chances at love and marriage pass her by, one after the other.
And here she was, Vicky Valente’s luckless daughter, staring dolefully at the sunset all alone. History was repeating itself.
But no. Screw those bastards. She wouldn’t give into it. They could sit on it and spin. The whole stupid pack of them. Fate, destiny and all the rest.
She was changing this story, and she’d start by taking better care of herself. Buying some decent food, cooking it with care. Treating herself more tenderly. She’d give a damn about Sophie Valente, even if no one else did.
She collected her canvas shopping bags, slipped on her sneakers and headed out to pick up some basic ingredients for quick, tasty, extremely easy meals. Three stops would do the job—the fruit and veggie place, the deli for cheese, cured meats and a bottle of wine, and the butcher’s shop. Operation Self Care had begun.
Usually when she was in Italy, she loved the intimacy of shopping in places where she was recognized by all the shopkeepers. Today, it was salt in the wound. Three different worried old ladies fussed over her and tried to tempt her with samples of this or that. Signora Ippolita, the butcher’s wife, even insisted on wrapping up a thick Florentine steak for her, despite her protests that it was too much for a single person to eat.
She stopped for a moment outside, to rearrange the contents of her bags. When she looked up, she saw Vann across the road.
She dropped the bags. The wine bottle clanked on the cobblestones, and began rolling noisily downhill. Vann was still there. He was not a dream, or an apparition.
Vann intercepted the wine bottle before it could roll any farther. He picked it up and brushed it off as he walked toward her. “Sophie,” he said quietly.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “How did you find me?”
“I had to see you,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you for weeks.”
“Ehi! Onofrio!” Ippolita poked her head out the door and bawled for her husband. “Get out here! There’s a man bothering Signorina Sofia!”
“Che cosa?” Onofrio, a tall, burly guy with a blood-smeared apron stretched over his large belly, stepped out onto the street, holding a huge meat cleaver in his hand. “Signorina Sofia, va tutto bene? Is this idiot bothering you?”
Sophie gave the older couple a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” she soothed. “He isn’t a problem for me.”
“I could chase him away,” Onofrio offered. “Put the fear of God into him.”
“Or chop a few parts off,” Ippolita offered. “If he’s the one who made you look so sad.”
“I’m fine,” she assured. “It won’t be necessary to chop anything off.” She held out her hand for the wine bottle. “I’ll take that back now.”
Vann gave it to her. She tucked it into a shopping bag and picked them up.
“Can I carry those for you?” he asked.
“No, thank you.” She turned back to wave at the butcher and his wife.
“Everything’s fine,” she reassured them with another smile. “Really. Buona sera.”
He fell into step beside her as she walked up into the big wooden door that opened into the villa. She glanced back, and noticed that Onofrio and Ippolita were still standing on the street outside their shop, watching her anxiously. Three or four other people in the square had also taken notice.
She cursed under her breath, held out the bags. “Hold these while I get my keys.”
He silently did so. When the door swung open, she gestured impatiently for him to enter.
She pulled the door shut behind them.
“Thanks for letting me come in,” Vann said. “I think the butcher wanted to hack me into stewing chunks.”
“You’re only in here because I don’t want an audience,” Sophie said. “It’s not for your sake, that’s for sure.”
She led the way through the shadowy stone arch and out into the center courtyard. Vann followed, and set the grocery bags down on the pavement next to the burbling fountain.
It was unfair, how good Vann looked in those slouchy tan cargo pants and a crumpled white linen shirt that set off his tan. His dark eyes were full of emotion that bewildered and infuriated her. After what he had done, he had no right to look at her that way.
“You’re not welcome here,” she told him.
“I know,” he said. “Please hear me out. That’s all I ask.”
“I don’t remember ever telling you about this place. Or giving anyone the address.”
Vann’s big shoulders lifted. “You told us that last day, in Malcolm’s office. That you had property in Singapore, New York City, the Catskills, Florence and Positano. That, and the name Valente, was all I needed.”
“And you figured I’d come here? Good guess.”
“I’ve been to all of your houses,” he said. “Staking them out. Watching for you.”
That startled her. “All? You mean, you’ve been flying all over the world? What about your job?”
He shook his head. “That’s over,” he said. “I’m between jobs right now.”
“So he really did fire you,” she said. “Seems like your time would be better served job hunting than chasing around after me. I’m sure you wouldn’t want my criminal taint to wear off onto you. Hardened felon that I am.”
“No,” he said. “Malcolm knows it wasn’t you.”
She froze in place. Any news that good had to be a trap. Some fresh new cruelty.
“How on earth could that be?” she asked. “They were so sure.”
“Your name has been cleared. I wanted you to hear it from me. I also thought you should know that Malcolm feels guilty as hell about what he said to you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “So he should. How did all this come about?” She kept her voice cool and remote.
“It was the videos,” he explained. “That girl who sent you to Malcolm’s room? She was on their team. The thieves’ team, I mean. Tim and Rich Bryce hired her. Bryce was selling the IP, and setting you up to take the fall. The girl you saw had to get you into position outside Malcolm’s room at that exact time. Inside the room was another woman, already dressed up like you. They deepfaked your face onto that woman’s image. Rich is a special-effects guy. But I don’t think it’s that hard to do anymore, even for laymen.”
“Ah,” she said slowly. “So when I found Julie in my room that first night, she was checking out my wardrobe. I remember that she dropped her phone when I came in. She must have been taking pictures of all my stuff.”
“Yes,” Vann said. “After you left, I studied the videos until I finally saw it. The body double’s boobs were spilling out of her dress. Her wrap closed at her waist.”
“I see,” Sophie said slowly, putting her hand over her heart. “So. Saved by the scar. Again.”
“Yes,” he said. “Malcolm was mortified.”
“Good,” she said crisply. “Rightly so.”
In the silence, the birds twittered madly in the lemon and orange trees. Swallows swooped and darted. She had a hot lump in her throat. She coughed to clear it.
“So, Vann,” she said in a formal tone. “I’m glad to know that my reputation is intact, and that I don’t need to change careers. I a
ppreciate you telling me. But it would have been cheaper and simpler for you to send a letter to my lawyer.”
“I needed to see you,” he said.
She shrugged. “The feeling is not mutual.” She couldn’t bear to look into his eyes.
“We have something between us,” he persisted.
“We did have something,” she corrected. “Then you ran over it with a truck.”
“Please, let me finish,” he said. “I never thought you were the thief. The more time I spent with you, the more convinced I was. You would never take a sleazy shortcut. You don’t have weak spots and fault lines and holes inside you. You’re complete. Sure of your own inner power. You know who you are and what you can do. People like that don’t lie, cheat and steal. They can’t be bothered.”
She let out a bark of bitter laughter. “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not exactly a poster child for inner power and self-confidence right now.”
“I told Bryce that I knew it wasn’t you when we got to Paradise Point,” Vann went on. “But I never imagined he was framing you for theft. I just thought, if it’s not you, then you’re safe. I figured, let Bryce bait all the traps he wants. You’d never take the bait. So when I told you to go to Malcolm and tell him you were his daughter, I swear, I had no idea you were in danger. By the time I knew what was going on, Malcolm had already called you into his office.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Did you ever believe it was me?” she asked. “When you saw that doctored video, I mean?”
He shook his head. “Never,” he said. “I was confused, but I never thought you were the thief. But I hate that I didn’t come to your defense fast enough. If I’d been smarter and quicker, if I’d caught the detail of the scar in time, I could have spared you all that pain. I’m so sorry, Sophie. Please forgive me.”
Corner Office Secrets Page 16
