by A. C. Arthur
His jaw clenched at the thought and he said, “So, do we want to go over the current sales numbers first?”
“Ah, actually,” Dion replied, his voice going somber, all semblance of the smile he’d had just moments before disappearing. “I called this meeting because I thought there was something a little more pressing we needed to discuss. Something that I knew we would want to keep just between us.”
Savian sat back in his seat, his hands falling from his laptop as he inwardly sighed.
“Sean and I were very concerned about the break-in at our parents’ home a few months ago,” Dion started.
Parker was already shaking his head. “I don’t think we can call them break-ins in the traditional sense. The incident at your parents’ house and the one at our parents’ house were cowardly attacks. A burglar would have simply gone inside, taken what they wanted and then left. This jackass broke all the windows and then sent that bullshit email message.”
Regan was immediately alarmed. “Wait, I thought we still didn’t know who sent the email. Has there been a new development?”
Savian would have sighed with relief if the reason they weren’t talking about his personal situation wasn’t that they were talking about the attack on his parents, aunt and uncle, instead. His frown was already in place as he recalled the night that he and Parker had received the call from the security company stating their parents’ house alarm was going off. He’d arrived at Reginald and Carolyn’s, house located in the Coastal Accolade’s area of Biscayne Bay, as quickly as he could only to find that his mother was home alone and that all the windows on the first floor of the house had been broken, but nobody had ever entered the home.
Not an hour after this happened, Sean had received a similar call from his parents’ security company, informing him that the Big House—what the family had come to call Aunt Janean and Uncle Bruce’s house in Key Biscayne—had all its windows on the first floor broken out as well. Worried about their mothers’ safety because both Reginald and Bruce were out of town when all of this was going on, Savian had stayed at the Big House with his mother and aunt, while two police cars remained parked outside.
Then, there’d been an email message sent to every member of the Donovan family. It read:
People living in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. Glass breaks. Stones hurt. And what goes around, comes back around.
“That’s why I called this meeting,” Dion continued. “Now, when Sam Desdune was here, we were also dealing with the sexting scandal that somebody attempted to pull on Parker and Adriana.”
Savian didn’t need to look across the table at his brother to know he was still pretty pissed off about that situation. Photo-shopped pictures and sexy text messages were said to have been sent between Parker and Adriana, had made it to the front page of the tabloids. Quick and thorough investigating by the Connecticut office of D&D Investigations—Sam Desdune, his sister Bree and their cousin Bailey—had proven that both Parker and Adriana’s cell phones had been hacked. Giovanni had turned out to be the hacker that initiated that course of events.
As for the incidents at their parents’ homes and the email message they all had received, there had been no new developments in that regard. But Savian had been working on getting to the bottom of that situation as well.
Now, it seemed, Dion had too.
“As you know, Trent was out of the country with Tia when all this was going on. That’s why Sam and Bailey were the ones to help out. But the moment Trent came home, he called me. He used a remote hook up to all of our home computers, because that’s where we received the messages, and came up with an IP address for the sender. He’s run that address through every system he has and keeps coming up with locations throughout the world,” Dion told them.
“They scrambled the signal the moment they hit send,” Savian spoke up. “You’re never going to pinpoint a location and if you do, it’s probably going to be to some coffee house or internet café where there were probably more than a dozen people at the time. And, even if we trace the computer, it doesn’t mean we’ll get the person that sent it.”
“Thanks for the positivity,” Regan quipped.
Savian shrugged. “Just because we can’t trace the message doesn’t mean there’s no problem. I’m very aware of that fact, Regan.”
“We’re all very aware of that fact,” Sean interjected. “That’s why we need to work together on this.”
Dion nodded. “He’s right and you know Trent, he’s determined to get to the bottom of this before anything else happens.”
“So, wait,” Regan said, leaning forward in her seat and looking around at her brothers and cousins. “We’re still thinking that something else might happen? Something like what? Does this mean we’re going to keep all the extra security we’ve had for the past few months?”
“I don’t know that we’re at that point yet,” Parker said reaching out to touch his sister’s hand. “But just like Sam and I discussed when he was here, this is definitely personal.”
Sean nodded. “Yes, somebody has something against us.”
“Jealousy is nothing new toward our family,” Savian said, remembering all too well the things he’d personally had to deal with from others that had been jealous of him and the Donovan name.
“But this seems like more, don’t you agree?” Dion asked him.
It was Savian’s turn to nod this time and to agree wholeheartedly with his cousin. “This person definitely has a vendetta against us. The question is why.”
“No,” Dion told them. “The new question is if the vendetta is against us.” He motioned between himself and everyone else in the room. “Or them?”
“Them being?” Regan asked.
“The Seniors,” Parker said, still holding her hand. “He’s saying that since the attacks were at our parents’ homes that, maybe it’s someone they pissed off.
“Right. And unfortunately, I’m not convinced that they’re finished,” Dion added.
Regan sat back in her chair, her facial expression—as usual—clearly depicting exactly what she was feeling.
“Don’t worry, we’re going to get to the bottom of this,” Parker reassured her.
“We certainly are and then we’re going to—” Savian was saying before the door to the conference room opened.
“She said it was an emergency,” Venora, the receptionist on this floor of the office said from the doorway. When she stepped to the side Savian’s gaze immediately met Jenise’s.
He was the first to stand as he watched her walk in wearing a skirt suit a few shades of blue lighter than his, black pumps and carrying her briefcase.
“I’m very sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But I’ve been calling you all morning.”
All eyes went immediately to Savian who wished he could disappear in this very second. This was a private meeting. To have a female interrupt it and say that she’d been trying to get in touch with him looked like he was involved in some type of lover’s quarrel, something that went along with Parker, or even Dion’s personality, more than it did Savian’s. To say he was uncomfortable with the situation was a definite understatement. Still, he pulled his jacket together, buttoning it as he walked towards Jenise.
“This is a private meeting,” he said as he came closer to her, getting a quick whiff of her perfume. “We can talk later in my office.”
She was shaking her head before he finished his sentence. “You don’t understand. When I began calling you over an hour ago, we had time. Now, we do not.”
“What are you talking about?” Savian asked realizing in that moment that Jenise was not looking at him the way she usually did.
She glanced to look around him to the others and then back to Savian before sighing. Reluctantly, she said, “I told them you would be at the police station by ten this morning to turn yourself in. If you’re not there they’ll come down here and arrest you in front of everyone.”
Regan was by Savian’s side in seconds. “Arr
est him? For what?”
Jenise looked directly at Savian. “For the murder of Giovanni Morelli.”
#
Another block and they would be there, Jenise thought as she comfortably gripped the steering wheel of her cherry red Mustang convertible. While today was a beautifully sunny morning and a comfortable sixty-eight degrees, the top and all the windows were up, air conditioning running on low. Beside her, seat-belted and sitting rather stiffly was Savian Donovan. A man about to be arrested and processed for murder, and the man Jenise had spent the night dreaming about.
“We’ll enter through the back loading dock. I’ve already spoken to Detective Rubin and let him know that we’re on our way. The press may still be out there even though Rubin said he’d do what he could to hold them back,” she said, keeping her eyes on the road.
“It won’t matter what he does. They’ll know I’m there and it’ll be all over the television and in the papers within the next hour,” he said solemnly.
He’d looked genuinely surprised at her announcement just about twenty minutes ago. Jenise wished that could have gone differently, but Savian hadn’t answered any of her calls or text messages. She’d asked his secretary several times to go into the meeting and interrupt him but the woman had staunchly refused. If Jenise had been a relative or even a real girlfriend, instead of a tawdry little secret, she would have been able to simply give her name and whatever she asked would have undoubtedly been done. She shook her head at those thoughts because they weren’t doing her or Savian any good at the moment.
“You’re probably right, but we don’t have to give them any more access to you than is absolutely necessary,” she said as she drove closer to the station.
“We’ll go in through the back door and take you right back to Detective Rubin’s office. There, he’ll read you your rights and tell you what you’re charged with. Then you’ll go to processing. I won’t be able to go back there with you but I’ll be working on getting you a quick and private hearing in front of the commissioner regarding bail,” she informed him.
“I don’t want my family paying,” he said adamantly.
The tone of his voice had changed so drastically Jenise looked over to see that he was staring intently at her.
“I’ll give you a check or authorize direct payment from my account but I do not want my family posting my bail.”
Savian Donovan was a proud man. He worked hard and very rarely reaped any of the rewards from his work. He was humble and discreet. She’d realized these things in the months that she’d known him. What she hadn’t really understood until right this moment was how much he loved and respected his family. The Donovans were a wealthy family. So much so, Jenise was certain that Savian’s parents had created trust funds for each of their children when they were younger. Savian had probably never touched his, preferring to make his own money, which he was definitely doing at DNT. His payments to her were made from his personal account so she shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d want the same for his bail.
“You don’t have a prior record,” she said taking her eyes off him so she could turn into the back parking lot of the police station. “But you have the means to disappear before trial so the prosecutor will undoubtedly ask for a no bail status. I’ll rebut with your lack of a criminal record, family and community connections. In the end they’re going to go with something high and will most likely ask you to surrender your passport.”
“It’s at my apartment,” he told her as the car slowed.
“That’s fine. We’ll get that to them tomorrow. As for the money, it’ll have to be ten percent and they may ask for cash,” Jenise said as she cut the engine and dropped her keys into her purse.
“I have cash in my safe deposit box. Here’s the key. ” He talked while he was pulling out his wallet and his cell phone.
The key came to her first and she tried not to look as shocked as she felt. Jenise and Savian had gone from stand-offish business associates to lovers in a matter of hours. In the past few months whatever they now were had remained a closely guarded secret. Now, he was giving her something as personal as the key to his safe deposit box. She wasn’t sure how to take that but eventually chalked it up to the severity of the current situation.
“It’s going to be alright, Savian. While they came up with something to get an arrest warrant from the judge, their case is still very thin and very circumstantial,” Jenise told him.
She didn’t like how solemn and serious he was, even though it wasn’t totally different from his normal personality. It was still hard for her to see him this way, and even more difficult to accept that in a few minutes he would be handcuffed and led away. She didn’t want to think about that, let alone accept the fact that she would have to stand there and watch helplessly while it happened.
He sat back in the seat, still holding his cell phone as he stared straight ahead. “They have a surveillance tape of me leaving Giovanni’s house and a letter on my letterhead giving him an ultimatum about the show and Adriana. I’d say they’re building their case.”
“That’s because you’re not the lawyer,” she snapped. “We have yet to have that tape reviewed by our own expert. You said you went to see Giovanni days before the night he was killed. And just because that letter is on your letterhead, it doesn’t mean you wrote it.”
He nodded. “You’re right. I didn’t ki—”
“Stop!” she said immediately, holding up a hand to make her point. “Only answer the questions I ask you. Nothing else. And don’t say a word to anyone when I’m not there. Not one word.”
Savian looked over to her then and Jenise had to resist the urge to extend her hand and touch his cheek. His beard was low cut and dark, a stark contrast to his lighter complexion. His jaw was set, eyes staring at her fiercely, as if he were barely restraining his true emotions at this moment. Jenise knew exactly how that felt.
His lips snapped shut and Jenise grabbed her briefcase and opened her car door to get out. Across the parking lot, at the entrance where they’d come in had been a circle of reporters and cameramen, obviously hoping to catch Savian should he come in this way. Fortunately, they hadn’t expected him to arrive in a red Mustang. Score one for Jenise.
Now that they’d spotted him, they began to run across the parking lot. Jenise had just enough time to turn around before Savian was grabbing her by the arm and hurrying them to the side door that had been pushed open for them by an officer. They made it inside before the reporters could reach them and were hustled through a long narrow hallway by another officer. Savian never released his hold on her.
Not until they walked into the dour-looking detective’s office. Wilbert Rubin had been with the police department for more than twenty years. Jenise had done her research the minute Savian had told her he was a suspect. Rubin was a tall man with a wiry build and thinning gray hair. He stood from his creaking old desk chair the moment they walked in.
“Thanks for coming down,” he said in a dry tone.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Jenise replied. “I want a copy of the surveillance tape and that letter before I leave here today.”
“We’re gonna check the letter for his prints once we get them,” Rubin said as he came all the way around the desk to stand beside Savian.
“Fine. Just be sure that I get a copy of the results.” Her stomach had become very jittery all of a sudden and Jenise gripped the strap of her briefcase to keep from shaking.
Rubin nodded towards her and then turned his attention to Savian.
“Savian Donovan,” he began, pulling handcuffs from the back of his pants. “You are under arrest for the murder of Giovanni Morelli.”
#
She’d never felt this way before. Not in all her years of representing criminal clients and having to be in police stations, correctional facilities and courtrooms with them, or any time before. Jenise walked slowly attempting to steady her breathing as she moved down the hallway towards the meeting room where o
ne of the officer’s had told her the Donovan family was waiting. She had to go in there, it was her job. That didn’t mean she really wanted to. Sure, she’d been thinking a lot about Savian’s family and the type of people they were, but this wasn’t how she’d envisioned meeting them.
Yet, this was the situation at hand. So she said a silent prayer for her own strength as she turned the knob and walked into the room. The first thing she noticed was that there were too many people in this small room. Jenise immediately felt warm, closed in and nervous.
“Hello,” she managed to say as she closed the door behind her.
“Everyone, this is Jenise Langley. She’s Savian’s lawyer,” Regan Donovan said.
The tall pretty woman had immediately come to stand beside Jenise, as if they’d known each other much longer than a couple of hours.
“Jenise, these are my parents, Reginald and Carolyn Donovan,” Regan continued, pointing to a lovely woman who had been sitting in a chair, but now stood, offering Jenise a cordial smile. The man gave her a nod, his jaw set in a serious line that was very similar to the way Savian had looked.
“My Aunt Janean and Uncle Bruce,” Regan announced the next stately-looking couple.
“You remember Dion, Sean and Parker. And of course, Adriana, although she wasn’t there with us this morning at the meeting. But she’s here now. This is also Gavin. He’s with me,” Regan finished.
Jenise couldn’t help it, she turned to the woman and grabbed her hand.
“Thanks for the introductions,” she told Regan. “It’s going to be okay. He’s going to come home today.”
Regan let out a whoosh of breath, her shoulders visibly relaxing as Gavin came over to wrap his arms around her. They were all tense, Jenise had realized during the introductions, so there was no need for her to feel like she was the only one. Worry over Savian was their common link here, she just needed to focus on that and forget the rest. The part that was probably just a wish in her mind anyway.
