“So, about that damage control.” Deana spread a few more sheets of paper out in front of me. “We can go a couple of routes with it. Paying her off is probably the easiest—provided that she doesn’t want to turn this into her fifteen minutes of fame.”
“I’ve been so fucking careful.” I shook my head back and forth. “It feels like everything is just starting to come down around me now. People fucking with my deals—hackers trying to screw with our network—now I’ve got an even bigger problem. This can’t get out. If some opportunistic attorney hears her story, she’ll have a big fucking lawsuit—hell, the media will crucify me.”
“It’s definitely not a good time for something like this to come out. You know how it will look, and anytime they get someone in front of the press—the women come out of the woodwork.” Deana sighed and looked down at the papers. “Of course, we could head that off now—without paying her off.”
“What do you mean?” I leveled my gaze on her.
“You could destroy her.” Deana shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time…”
“What?” I blinked in surprise.
“You destroy people all the time.” Deana tilted her head slightly.
“Yes—competitors or people who fuck with me, but that’s just business.” I exhaled sharply. “I’m not going to destroy some innocent girl because you made a mistake.”
I’d like to believe I have something that resembles a heart still beating in my chest…
“Then paying her off is the only option…” Deana sighed.
“Yeah.” I nodded and put the palm of my hand against my temple. “Call Ben—he has experience with this sort of thing.”
“That’s who I had in mind.” She stood and started walking towards the door.
I kept Ben on retainer to handle contracts that were a little more—personal. He had protected a lot of rich and powerful people from having their names ruined when lust overwhelmed rational thought. Usually, that was an ironclad prenuptial agreement, but some people had dark desires that wouldn’t look good if they were exposed to the public eye. It was more about convenience for me—and making sure that I didn’t get distracted when I needed to focus on Hawkins Capital. A thirty day contract ensured that. The women that usually signed them were so desperate for money that it was an easy arrangement. There had been a couple of blackmail attempts, but Ben made sure those were shut down immediately.
I need a fucking drink.
I walked over to the bar and fixed a glass of whiskey. It was too early to start, but I didn’t give a fuck. My thoughts were spinning out of control. The weekends were the worst for me—especially if I didn’t have a distraction waiting in bed. I lived and breathed by the opening and closing bell of the stock market. Those bells were silent on Saturday and Sunday. It was a form of madness—worrying and wondering what would happen when the market opened on Monday morning. The situation with Faith just made things worse, because it was going to add pressure on top of everything else that was going on.
I flipped through a few of the papers Deana left behind once I returned to my desk. She had gathered more information about Faith’s life than she had revealed in her interview—and probably a few things she didn’t even know. Faith’s parents weren’t poor, but they were definitely struggling. The factory where her father worked had been on the verge of shutting down for years, and it looked like they were so far in the red it was inevitable. The house she grew up had a second mortgage that was taken out the year she started college—I doubted that was a coincidence. Her parents had so much credit card debt that it was a miracle they were even able to stay afloat.
The American dream—work your whole life to keep a roof over your fucking head and send your kid to a good school—then hope you just die before you end up living in a cardboard box.
I flipped through a few more pages and saw Faith’s transcripts from USC. She was a pretty good student. She wasn’t at the top of her class, but she finished in the first quartile—the perfect candidate for Hawkins Capital. I didn’t like to hire the best of the best straight out of college—those kids were usually entitled pricks that thought they deserved to have a management position within a year. The ones that struggled, but still did well, were the ones I could mold. They appreciated what they had. I could put them on the bottom floor of the company, and they would work hard for everything they got—because it was the opportunity of a lifetime. It was no wonder that Faith was one of the few members of her graduating class that the hiring team thought I should interview.
I might have hired her too—but that could have been an even bigger disaster.
I could usually separate business and pleasure—but Faith’s curves would have been tempting, even if she was working for me. She was so fucking gorgeous, and her pale-blue eyes created such a contrast against her olive complexion that made me just want to stare into them. She had a kindness to her that I wasn’t used to seeing. The girls that usually signed the contracts I put in front of them knew what they were getting into—it was just a business arrangement. The hard road that brought them to that point in life left a stain on their soul. Faith was innocent—perfect—and for some reason, that made me crave her more than the others.
There’s no chance of that happening now. The best option I have to is to buy her silence and try to forget all about this fucking mistake.
Two days later
“Where are we on this Faith situation?” I glared at Deana as she handed me my coffee. “Was Ben able to put something together?”
“Yes sir.” She nodded. “He’s going to reach out to her today and see if we can make a deal—I also hired a private investigator to follow her.”
“A little much, don’t you think?” I raised an eyebrow.
“No, if she goes to see a lawyer, we need to know that immediately.” Deana sighed. “I know you don’t want to destroy her, but I put together a proposal—there are a few things we could do to make sure she’s properly motivated when she gets the call.”
“Like what?” I narrowed my eyes.
I thought I was rubbing off on Deana, but maybe she’s more twisted than I realized…
“Faith’s father works at GenCo in Phoenix. That factory is on life support—I’m sure you saw that in my report.” She walked to her desk, and I followed—mostly because I didn’t want anyone to overhear our conversation.
“Yes, I saw that.” I nodded.
“You could buy that factory for pennies on the dollar—and shut it down by lunchtime.” She looked up at me.
“That’s cruel…” I sighed. “I’m sure all of those people will be out of work soon enough, but I’m not going to hasten their descent into poverty.”
“What about her family’s house? Worthington Financial has the mortgage—and we could buy the loan with one of our subsidiaries. Her family has been late with their payment several times this year—there are clauses in the contract that would allow us to start foreclosure proceedings immediately.”
“Yes, because that’s what I want to be associated with—a company that takes someone’s home because they were late on a few payments.” I shook my head back and forth. “No, we do this the right way—as right as it can be now that we’re knee deep in this fucked up situation.”
I’m glad I don’t make a habit out of pissing Deana off—she’s not twisted—she’s fucking ruthless.
If it was a different situation, I would have probably been impressed by Deana’s plan. Truthfully, they were plays right out of my book. I dug my way into the lives of the people who screwed me over and didn’t pull any punches. I just didn’t crush their families or other innocent people in the process. Most people had enough skeletons of their own to line a closet—and close the casket on their career. The people that screwed me over on the Stone Properties deal would learn that soon enough—they didn’t make enough money to retire on when they fucked me over, and it would run out eventually. I was going to enjoy watching their lives fall apart, even if it took them
a few years to blow through their blood money.
One hour later
“We have—a problem.” Deana ran into my office and closed the door.
“What’s going on?” I looked up from my desk. “Are the hackers messing with the network again?”
“No sir.” She shook her head back and forth. “Faith Matthews left town this morning—the private investigator followed her to San Diego.”
“San Diego?” I raised an eyebrow. “Maybe she has a job interview…”
“Not unless she’s getting a job at Farber & Jones.” Deana put her thumb between her eyes and grimaced.
“Fucking hell, she went to see a lawyer?” I pushed my chair back and turned towards the window. “Son of a bitch—god damn it—why didn’t Ben call her first thing this morning!?”
“He tried, but she didn’t answer.” Deana exhaled sharply. “This situation is about to get out of control—fast.”
“Why would she go to San Diego to hire a lawyer? Farber & Jones has an office in Los Angeles—that doesn’t even make sense. They normally handle criminal cases…” I wracked my brain for what little information I knew about the high-powered law firm.
I’ve dealt with most of the civil attorneys in Los Angeles at one time or another, but Farber & Jones are the probably the guys I would call if someone put handcuffs on me.
“We have to get ahead of this. I know you’re trying to do the right thing here, and you don’t want to hurt her family—but just think about the families that work that will be directly impacted if this story gets out. All of your employees depend on this company—and your investors depend on the success of the fund.” Deana walked over and leaned against my desk. “You know I’m right.”
“Give me some time to think.” I waved her off.
“I’ll get things ready, just in case.” She nodded and walked towards the door. “Want me to close it?”
“Yes,” I growled under my breath. “Cancel the rest of my meetings today while you’re at it—I don’t want to be in the middle of one if this shit blows up.”
It was a fucked up situation, and the solution wasn’t easy. I could certainly destroy Faith’s life. I could buy her father’s factory, shut it down—I could buy her family’s loan from the bank and foreclose on their house. It was just so fucking cruel. I respected someone like Faith—she wasn’t handed everything, but she didn’t let her position in life determine her future. What she said during the interview resonated with me—part of the reason she wanted to work at Hawkins Capital was so that she could help her parents. They were easy targets—she obviously cared about them. The fact that I was even thinking about going through with Deana’s plan was proof that I was sinking to a new low.
There’s a big fucking difference between being a conqueror people fear in the business world and an actual villain—I swore I’d never do something like that.
My story wasn’t that much different from Faith’s—until college at least. I came from the wrong side of the tracks in Los Angeles. I was born with nothing except an arm that could make a football sail down the field. I was the king of my high school, but I was a big fish in a little pond—that’s why I got a scholarship to a college that didn’t have their games televised on Saturday instead of a big university. I was never going to make it to the NFL, but I helped lead my team to their first winning season in over a decade. I learned that if I won games, the alumni organization made sure things came my way—even if it was technically illegal. Still, I would have graduated from that college with nothing but a degree and a few trophies if I hadn’t invested some of that money in my friend’s app.
Now I have to decide if I’m going to be the asshole people think I am—or hang on to the shred of integrity that keeps me from drowning…
“Mr. Hawkins?” Deana tapped on my door and opened it.
“I told you—I need some time to fucking think.” I glared at her and growled under my breath.
“That’s been another development.” She walked in and closed the door. “The private investigator said they just walked into a courtroom—I don’t think she went to San Diego to hire an attorney.”
“Then why is she there?” I tilted my head slightly.
“I don’t know if you were following the news at all over the weekend or not, but the FBI raided Marsha Weaver’s company—and they arrested her.” She walked to my desk and sat down.
“Marsha Weaver? That name doesn’t ring a bell.” I shrugged. “Wait—didn’t we buy a building from someone she represented?”
“Yeah, that’s her.” Deana nodded. “It looks like Faith’s roommate is Marsha’s daughter—I think that’s why she went to San Diego.”
“Okay.” I sighed. “That means the situation is still contained.”
“It would appear that it is.” Deana leaned back in her chair. “I guess we can let Ben keep trying to get in touch with her for now.”
“Yes; but keep the private investigator on her for now.” I nodded. “That was a good call—we should probably know where Faith is at all times, just in case.”
“Of course.” Deana leaned forward and stood. “Do you need anything—want me to try to reschedule some of those meetings?”
“No.” I shook my head back and forth. “I think I’m just going to take the afternoon off.”
“Should I call Ms. Reynolds? I’m sure we could get the right interview set up this time.” Deana raised her eyebrows inquisitively.
“No, I’m not in the mood for that,” I growled under my breath.
None of those girls are going to compare to Faith—and I let myself start craving her before I realized I was interviewing the wrong fucking person.
Even in the midst of chaos—and the potential for everything to come crashing down around me—I still couldn’t get those pale-blue haunting eyes out of my thoughts. They belonged to someone who could destroy me—someone I could very well have to destroy to save myself. I swore I would never get obsessed with another girl after the one I almost married chose a better life over a penniless kid from the wrong side of the tracks. That was easy in college, and after I had more money than I knew how to spend, I never looked back. It worked for twelve years—until a gorgeous set of curves, and a pair of haunting eyes sat down in front of me. Deep down, I knew that the reason I was so hesitant to do anything to hurt her wasn’t because I cared about my soul—it was because she was still stuck in my head. Money couldn’t buy a woman like that—but I would empty my fucking bank account if it could.
Thirty days with her would go by in a flash—and it’s probably better that the option isn’t available because I might want more…
Five
Faith
I didn’t have much time to think about the interview with Alexio Hawkins once I got back to my apartment because of what happened with Jennifer’s mother. I spent Saturday night being her wine-sitter and making sure she didn’t drop a lit cigarette on the carpet. I was exhausted by the time I went to bed, but she was passed out in a stupor, so it was safe for me to finally get some sleep. She spent most of Sunday on the phone with her mother’s lawyer—and it just sounded like they were saying the same thing over and over. Nothing was going to happen until the arraignment. Jennifer thought she would be fine to drive to San Diego on her own, but I wasn’t so sure about that—plus, I didn’t want her to be alone if she got more bad news.
“The lawyer said they might try to hold her—the prosecutor is saying she could be a flight risk.” Jennifer reached over and squeezed my hand. “I don’t understand how this is happening. She—wouldn’t do this, would she?”
I don’t even know your mother, but I have to be a supportive friend right now.
“No way.” I shook my head back and forth as what was probably a lie left my lips. “You’ve told me so much about her, and she doesn’t sound like the type of person who would be involved in money laundering.”
The charges were a little more complex than just money laundering. Jennifer was too broken up to
really share the details with me at our apartment, but her mother’s lawyer went over everything when we got to his office. Based on what I could discern, she was being accused of using her company to buy property from one company and sell it to another—except that the two companies were owned by the same group. They were selling at a really low price, then buying at a higher price, to move money around and make it look like the businesses were losing money. They called it layering—which involved a web of shell companies with offshore bank accounts that were funneling money in and out of the country to evade taxes.
The real problem was that the money they used to start the whole process wasn’t legitimate, to begin with—the group had ties to the Mexican cartel, which meant her mother was involved with some very shady individuals, even if she was just profiting off their endeavors. Deep down, I knew that there was no way she was totally innocent. There would have been red flags all over the place and, it would require financial blindness not to suspect something along the way. I only had a basic understanding of real estate from some of my investment classes, and I could see that.
“Okay, ladies.” Mr. Farber, the attorney that represented Jennifer’s mother, walked over to us. “It’s time for the arraignment.”
We walked into the courtroom, and Jennifer’s nails dug into my hand when her mother was brought out to stand before the judge. She plead not guilty, which was expected, and the prosecutor made a case for keeping her behind bars until trial. The judge had mercy—but he set her bond at one million dollars. I assumed that wouldn’t be a problem since Jennifer’s mother owned a lot of property, but Mr. Farber mentioned that it was only a matter of time before her assets were frozen. The bailiff let Jennifer hug her mother before she was taken out of the courtroom. It was only a matter of time and money until they would be reunited, so Jennifer seemed to be in a much better mood when she returned to her seat.
Once Upon a Daddy: A Romance Anthology Page 50
