“I must answer this,” he said.
“Go on,” I said, thankful for the reprieve and the chance to collect myself after his attraction had drawn me in and made me want to give myself over to him again. Still, I watched him walk over to the window. He had a slight crease to his brow as he listened. When his call ended, he turned to me and sighed heavily. “I have an emergency and must leave right now.”
I nodded. “It’s fine. Thanks for the flowers.”
Dane came back around the desk. “We still have things to discuss. Please take my calls. I’ll be in touch real soon.” His fingers warmed my skin as he moved errant strands of hair that had fallen into my face. I had no words to give him.
He left as quickly as he came, and his presence left me useless to continue working, my mind too busy trying to think of a reason why I shouldn’t give him a second chance.
After packing up, I made a quick stop for Thai takeout before journeying back to my home. I hadn’t even gotten my coat off before my phone chimed with a text. Dane again? A flutter went through me. He was persistent. I took it out and deflated a little—the message was from Astrid. I groaned. Was she going to invite me over to help with more campaign stuff for her husband?
Astrid: We’re back in town. Have you looked at the news? Dalton Pierce has been arrested.
DP Management was the management company we’d hired to handle Perfetto, named for its head, Dalton Pierce. My eyes went to the holiday basket he’d sent to me personally as a congratulatory gift for Perfetto’s record success last quarter.
Suddenly I wished she had been headhunting me to assist with the campaign. This scenario was worse than anything I could have concocted in my head.
My stomach muscles twisted in knots as I rushed over to turn on the news. They were in the middle of a segment on New Year’s resolutions, but the scrolling text at the bottom said Dalton Pierce had been charged with bank fraud, four counts of counterfeit securities, and five counts of money laundering. Panic erupted inside of me. Astrid was probably frantic as she waited for my response. I quickly replied.
Gia: I’ll find out what happened. We don’t have all the facts yet. I’ll be working from here on out to fix it. Try to relax.
I’d told her what she wanted to hear, that there was an easy solution. I wanted to believe I still had my life savings and company and she still had her investments in Perfetto, wanted to believe Dalton hadn’t mismanaged the company. Patrick and I had checked him out thoroughly, and he had an extensive, high-profile client list, including A-list celebrities. He also had a stellar reputation in the business. This had to be wrong…but then there he was in handcuffs, being put into the back of a police car. With all his wealth and connections, they would have to have something to get him in that car, and especially to do it on camera.
Bile rose in my throat and my body shook to its core as dread took hold of me, my mind already racing with thoughts on the implications of what this could mean for my company. My hands shook so hard I fumbled the phone, scrolling as fast as I could to call DP Management.
After a series of beeps, I heard an automated voice say, “Mailbox full. Ending call.”
I went through the list I had—his partners, financial heads, even his secretary—before it dawned on me that it was New Year’s Eve. No one would be there. The call waiting came up on my phone, and thankfully it was my attorney, Stuart Miller. I immediately answered.
“Gia, I’m in my car. Can I meet you over at your place?”
I swallowed against the brick that had lodged in my throat at the woeful tone of his voice. Whatever he had to share wasn’t good news. I didn’t think I could wait however long it would take for him to arrive. “Would you please pull over and just give it to me straight, and right now? I don’t think my nerves can handle waiting.”
He sighed heavily, and I paced as I waited for him to come back on line. “Bottom line, Dalton Pierce and his management company misappropriated funds from Perfetto. It will take some time to decipher the full extent as we wait for law enforcement’s disclosure. I’ve stopped all the automated transactions that had been going through, and I will be filing a lawsuit to attempt to recover what we can.”
“Will we have enough to pay our employees the next few months?” I asked, my voice cracking.
“Perhaps a few months, maybe five, but I can’t promise you anything,” he said then cursed.
Tears tunneled down my face and I took a deep breath in. “We have production costs, marketing for our new line…”
“The bank may be able to guarantee a loan,” he said. “But, with the other ones you have, you’ll be in a lot of debt…I will work on it as best I can.”
I drew in a deep breath “Thank you.”
“Now, there is something else that has come to light,” he said cautiously. “The investigators on Dalton’s fraud case will want to talk with you, and I’ll be there with you. I’ve asked a criminal attorney to join us to cover any issues with the selling off of Perfetto shares so close to the announcement of his indictment. I will assure them you were unaware of the investigation into his business practices—”
Selling Perfetto shares?
I placed his call on speaker and frantically opened my laptop to check through the online holdings. My mouth dropped open. “What? I didn’t sell anything. Obviously, I would have broken ties with him and removed everything he had control of if I’d known he was doing anything criminal. The only shares that could possibly go through without my personal authorization are the ones Patrick holds, but with our divorce agreement…” The screen in front of me showed shares had indeed been sold off. “Why wasn’t I informed by the bank?” I carped to Stuart.
“He didn’t sell large amounts right away, as you can see,” Stuart said, and his voice melted into the background as I stared at the columns on the screen. While Patrick was holding out on our divorce, he was quietly selling off all his shares of Perfetto, bit by bit. I had underestimated his greed. He had put the stipulation in the divorce as a carrot that he would sell the shares back to me, but all this time, he’d been siphoning them off until the last transaction was completed on the day I had received the signed the divorce papers. I had been too giddy to check over to see if anything had changed. I had been too trusting. I was a fool.
Even so, what he did was so underhanded. I wanted to fall apart, but that wasn’t going to help the hundred employees I had counting on me. “What can I do now?”
“I’m ten minutes away,” he said. “We’ll find a way to fix this.” It was what I needed to hear to hold me together, but it couldn’t erase the possibility that my company could now face bankruptcy.
While I waited for Stuart to arrive, I called Patrick. “You son of a bitch,” I said the second he answered.
“Excuse me?” he said. “I’m in the middle of lunch. I don’t have time—”
“We both know you have time for whatever you want to do,” I said abruptly. “You went against the agreement in our divorce. You sold the shares of Perfetto that you promised to me.”
“You mean my shares?” Patrick said, speaking over me. “I sold off my shares because my foundation needed the money to finance the election since you refused to help with the fundraising. You know how much money is needed for re-elections. I was within my rights to sell what I owned.”
“You promised to sell them back to me,” I hissed. “Are you aware that the police are investigating Dalton for fraud? You could get in a lot of trouble for this.”
“My lawyer assured me that the transactions will weigh out legally in my favor,” he said. The smugness in his tone was hard to miss. “We were divorcing. I no longer wanted to be involved with your company. The timing of the sales was purely coincidental. I wasn’t aware of Dalton’s transgressions—”
“Liar,” I screamed. “Nothing goes on in Seattle that your slimy hand isn’t all over.”
“That’s not true,” he said with fake indignation. “You’re bitter, and you mismanaged yo
ur company. That’s on you. If I hadn’t sold all my shares, that money would be tied up with the courts. It was a stroke of luck, that’s all.”
“The sales went through while we were still married,” I pointed out. “You will have to give that money to me.”
“You want money that is being investigated?” he argued. “It’s already been spent toward the marketing for my reelection, something that wouldn’t have cost as much if you had just made some calls. Now, I could help you stay afloat by speaking with your father’s lawyers.”
“You most certainly will not,” I said. He would, without a doubt, try to find more money for himself. “You were the one who recommended Dalton in the first place…” I almost dropped the phone. The pieces were falling into place. Patrick had to have known. He’d fucked me over better than he had ever fucked me in our marriage.
“I didn’t know about Dalton. I’m as upset as you are,” he said nonchalantly. “I’d help you out if you’d help me. We can put this divorce behind us if you’ll make some calls to get some of my previous donors to renew their annual donations. I’m sure I can recover some of your overhead, out of love and friendship—”
I hung up on him.
“Fuck!” My voice echoed off the walls of the practically empty room.
My phone rang again, and this time I didn’t answer. I didn’t have answers.
When the voicemail sounded, I checked to find that it was Dane again. I had too much on my plate to talk to him or think about getting together again right then. A moment later, I dialed my father’s number before I lost my nerve. There was a sliver of hope that he might be able to help me.
“I’d like to speak to my father,” I said to his private nurse when she answered. “How is he today?”
“He’s quite alert today,” she said in a cheery voice. “He’ll be happy to hear from you. One moment.”
My chest tightened as I waited for my father to come on the line. His memory had become fuzzy after the mild stroke he’d had a few months before. It had been unfortunate that we’d had an argument about finances before it happened. However, on his good days, he was still my favorite person in the world. That was how I greeted him, and he replied in kind.
“Missing my favorite daughter in the world,” he said. Hearing the slight shake in his voice had the tears rising again.
I caught myself and tried to focus. “I had hoped you would be able to spend Christmas here this year. I sent the tickets, but your doctor advised against having you travel right now.”
“You did? I didn’t know, Gia,” he said. “Did you tell me?” he asked in a cautious tone, and fear clutched my heart at the thought of him being taken away from me.
“No. It was going to be a surprise,” I said, trying hard to seem upbeat.
“Oh good,” he said. His sigh of relief was its own reward. “Now, you called about something else—I can hear it in your voice,” he said. “You can tell me anything.”
I swallowed, trying to work up the nerve to steer the conversation to the trust my grandma and grandpa had willed to me. I would only be accessing it eighteen months early. “Daddy, do you remember my company, Perfetto?”
“Oh, don’t go into business,” he replied. “It’s a dangerous gamble. Most businesses fail in the first few years. I know you were upset at me when I asked Dad to keep me in charge of your money until you’re thirty, but money is wasted on the young, and with the way Patrick goes through cash, you’d end up broke—or is that what has you sounding funny? Is Patrick in need of help again?”
“No.” I cleared my throat. He didn’t recall our divorce.
“Good, because he’s not getting his hands on your trust, I made damn sure of that,” he said then tutted disapprovingly.
I sighed heavily. There was no way I could ask him to help me now. My trust had been our last argument before his health failed. As executor, he had convinced them to add in a stipulation to have it held until I turned thirty. He had been right about Patrick all along, though now with his memory mixing up, I couldn’t tell him. There was no way he would pass a health evaluation to sign any release of money right now. I was on my own.
I wiped the tear that dropped on my shirt. “Did you like the Christmas present I sent?” I asked, changing the subject.
“You got me the…” He paused.
“The big band records,” I finished for him.
“The music I love,” he said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Dad,” I said thickly. “I’ll call you soon. I love you.”
“I love you too, my sweet pea,” he said, and we hung up.
A moment later, Stuart arrived in a Brooks Brothers suit, leather case in hand, to discuss what he knew so far. From his initial report, I learned my antiquated home and a few stocks were all I had left for the next twenty months. Even with the litigation, I wouldn’t be able to recover the money needed to keep Perfetto running. There was no way my dad was of sound enough mind to sign the documents to help me, so I’d lose Perfetto. I dropped my head in my hands, despairing at my stupidity for agreeing to use Dalton’s firm, though I wasn’t completely to blame—Perfetto wasn’t the only company DP Management had swindled. However, I prided myself on staying on top of the business. I didn’t know what to tell Astrid and my employees. Would I need to ask Patrick if he could use whatever connections he had as governor to help me save it?
My stomach lurched at the thought. Then again, I knew what was behind his curtain—he had no clout. Still, shouldn’t I try? I couldn’t just let go of my company so easily.
“Perhaps the buyer would be willing to be a temporary partner until you receive your trust or secure another bank loan, though the market will make taking one a higher risk,” Stuart said, breaking through my thoughts.
I tensed. “You’re recommending I sell off more of my company?”
“Or you can cut your losses to avoid filing bankruptcy,” he said bluntly. “Hear me out: we can make it part of the agreement that you remain the director.”
“And Astrid,” I added.
He nodded. “All right. Both of you stay on as employees with the option to re-buy in a couple of years. Perhaps the company that bought the shares Patrick sold off?” He brought out some papers from his briefcase. “The transactions regarding the private sale of your company are all with the same company…Incubus Nymph, Inc.”
Why was that so familiar? I rubbed the space between my eyebrows and searched my memory, but the answer lay just out of reach.
“Do you have any more information?” I pressed Stuart.
“Only what’s on this paper,” he said, holding it out to me.
I saw the logo, and my blood ran cold as I recalled the first time I saw the image. The original sculpture at The Agency mixer…I had been speaking with Dane, and he told me the name…
It was Dane. He was involved in the sale of the shares of Perfetto, and according to the reports, the transactions went back months. He had known full well what my situation was before inviting me to his home…and into his bed. He was taking Perfetto, but why? I was going to find out and stop whatever sick, twisted game he had started, though I had no idea how.
“I know the owner,” I told Stuart. “And I will be getting to the bottom of this myself.”
I would stop the path of destruction I was on before it ruined me.
CHAPTER NINE
* * *
My fury and anguish combined with the glass of wine I had after Stuart left had me too frazzled to risk driving, so I sent for one of our pre-paid hired cars. The rain over the fresh snow made the journey slow. I was determined to go to Mercer Island and confront Dane, but my calls to his phone had gone straight to voicemail. What I had to say wasn’t suited for a voicemail; I needed to see him face to face, to look in his eyes and find the cruelty I had missed. I needed to understand how I had been blindsided by his seduction, his command of my body, and how good it felt when he came deep inside of me. All that time he knew he was stripping away
Perfetto. I had been a mere amusement for him and his friend to toy with. It wasn’t enough to take my company; he had to fuck me too.
The bottom line mattered much more than people; that was what my father had said when I wanted to go into business. Dane was obviously no different, but he would find I wasn’t going to make his takeover easy. I’d sacrificed everything for my company, and I damn well wasn’t going to lose it without a fight.
My arrival at his gate turned out just as fruitless. It was locked, and his mansion was dark. He wasn’t home. I deflated and opened my mouth to request that the driver take me home, but then I saw the path to the side of the gate was lit. When I lowered the window, there was a faint sound of music on the wind.
Another Agency mixer? My stomach muscles twisted at the thought of Dane celebrating in the middle of my ruin. Bringing flowers as if that would make up for taking over my company? No way I’d let that happen. My work and success were mine. I had sacrificed so much to build it. I didn’t even know what or who I’d be without it now.
My jaw tensed. There was no way I was going to let him or anyone dance on my demise.
Ignoring the protests of the driver about leaving me on the side of the road, I exited the car and closed the top button on my pea coat then pulled my black hat down over my ears to deflect the below-freezing wind chill that blew down the path. Two small flights of stairs and I could see the wooden deck ahead. The boathouse was closed for the winter, but the party was in the tempered glass and stone pavilion near the shore. The music I could now make out was classical and grew louder with every step. When my boots hit the flagstone and sand bottom, I could see the entrance, and I hesitated. Anger and adrenaline were still propelling me to move forward, but my mind was now warning me that crashing the party would undoubtedly cause a scene. Then again, causing a scene didn’t matter anymore. I’d lost, and now I was too far gone to leave.
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