“And you love every minute of it."
"That may be so, but I'm not willing to admit it," I grin.
“What’s the occasion?" she asks excitedly.
"It started out with celebrating how we were able to contain this ‘Suavecito’ media nightmare in less than a week and the fact that the record company was so pleased, they handed us a big fat bonus for our efforts. But after Barrett said that, he admitted it was a lie. He confessed that he wanted to take me out just because.”
"Wow," Amelia marvels.
"I know," I say, lowering my eyes.
“This is a huge step, Charlie."
"You mean I'm not lying to myself?"
"I mean you aren’t fighting this like you always do. More importantly, you aren’t allowing the evil Ascotts to win. Like the club song says, ‘Stand By Your Man’.”
And for the first time in a very long time, I don't refute the fact that Tate Barrett Ascott is my man.
"I know," I repeat.
"I'm happy for you, Charlie," Amelia says.
"Thank you, honey. I'm pretty giddy about it all myself.”
"So this contract with Jason Belvedere wasn't all that bad," she laughs.
There I go blushing again. "I'm glad it's over, but you're right. It did bring Barrett and I closer together. Where do we go from here? I haven't got a clue. Your relationship is well-defined." It's her turn to blush. And laugh. “Mine is casual. And you know what?"
"What?"
"Surprisingly, I'm okay with it. Barrett promised me that he wasn’t screwing around and you know me, I'm a one-guy-at-a-time kind of girl."
"Are you sure you're okay with things being casual?” Amelia presses. “This isn't some random guy. This is the man who stole your heart in front of my very own eyes when you were fifteen."
"Maybe it's less pressure this way. After all, this is the first time in two years that things are flowing smoothly between us,” I say. "Enough about me. Tell me everything about your upcoming big romantic night. What are you going to wear? Shoes? Dress? Perfume? Makeup? Bling? Don't leave any details out, woman.”
CHAPTER 44
Barrett
Two and a half weeks later
"I don't think you're going to make that shot, mate," Xander says. He even brings a hand to his forehead as he evaluates the distance to the next hole. He turns around to face me. “That's a really long way to go.” His tone is grave.
"Are you jinxing me?" I ask with a frown.
"No. I'm just managing your expectations," he replies. "It would be wrong of me to allow a good friend to set himself up for failure."
"I've been playing golf since I've been able to walk," I remind him. "And don't forget, you said that when we were at the last hole and I aced that shot.”
"Luck of the Irish," Xander dismisses with a backhand swoosh.
"According to ancestry.co.uk, I don't even have a drop of Irish in me," I grin. "I reckon its skill. A mastery of the game."
“Your luck will run out eventually." I narrow my eyes at him.
"I agree with Xander." It's Holt's turn to voice his opinion.
"So now you’re a golf expert, Yankee? This isn't American football. And it surely isn't basketball. You do understand that?" Yeah, my tone is a little flippant, but we’re all having fun here.
Life is good. So much so, that I've allowed myself to take a Friday morning off. Since I have a meeting later at my office with my mates Holt Christensen and Xander Emerson, I suggested we kick things off on the right foot. How better else to end the week than to play an early morning round of golf at Bodens Heath Golf Club. Just three guys hanging out and bonding. The only thing better than this, is the evening—and weekend—I’ll spend with Charlotte. For the first time in two years, there's a sense of calm in my life I never thought I’d experience ever again.
"Ooooh." Holt shakes his head. "I can't believe you went there. That’s a low blow, buddy. Just because I haven't been playing golf since I was three years old doesn't mean I know nothing about the game. There's honor in being a late bloomer," he quips.
"Whatever." I roll my eyes. "Enough chitchatting. If I recall, you two gentlemen have a mountain of paperwork for me to look over. It's best if we get on with it," I say, waving my club.
"By all means, if you want to make a fool out of yourself, be my guest,” Xander says with an exaggerated hand gesture.
“It’s going to take a lot more than that to make me miss my shot," I warn. “Now, hush, watch, and learn."
Holt and Xander chuckle at my remark.
That doesn't deter me.
I position myself and hit the ball and it lands so far away it’s nearly impossible to see it.
“Blimey!” Xander shouts.
“Shit!” Holt yells.
"Oh, that was good. I absolutely ripped that one. Again," I cheer.
“You just hit a par 5 in two shots,” Xander marvels.
“That’s five hundred and thirty meters, for God’s sake!” Holt exclaims.
“What is it Christensen? Jealous?” I sneer. "The secret is that you have to get your drive to hook on the left. Elementary, dear Watson," I grin wide.
“Fucker,” Holt quips.
"Tsk. Don't let your daughter hear you talk that way," I scold. “What kind of example are you setting for her?”
"You leave my daughter out of this." Holt’s response is as quick as my delivery.
"It’s your turn, gentlemen. Let's see if you can get past my stellar landing," I say with supreme confidence.
"Move out of the way, Ascott," Xander sneers.
“You’re going for the big one or are you still playing small?" I mock.
"Shut up," he says.
Xander positions himself and whacks the ball. Both Holt and I look out into the horizon as our eyes follow its trajectory.
"Not bad, but not good enough. Number two isn't as appealing as number one, is it?" I say when his ball hits the ground.
"Tosser."
“What?" I shrug. "I’m being a supportive friend, Xander. I wouldn't want to set you up for failure, so I'm telling it like it is."
"It's your turn, Holt," Xander says, ignoring my sarcasm.
"Watch how the pros do it," he says. “We might not have invented golf, but when it comes to world championships, we fucking dominate. As usual."
"Typical American attitude. You think you’re the best at everything," I say.
"That’s because we are," he says in a matter-of-fact way. “They don’t call us the superpower of the world for nothing," he grins.
"Just take the bloody shot, mate."
Holt readies himself to take his shot when suddenly someone shouts out my name.
“Mr. Ascott! Mr. Ascott!”
All three of us turn around to watch a golf cart drive furiously down the hill. Rylan Phillips, the club employee who greeted us when we got here, is behind the wheel. Gerard Ecclestone, my chief accountant, is in the passenger seat waving his hands in front of him.
"What the hell?" I say.
My eyes widen when Rylan comes to a screeching halt by doing a 180 degree turn. Gerard jumps out and runs towards me.
"Mr. Ascott, I'm so happy I was able to track you down," my chief accountant says between panted breaths.
"What's going on?" I ask carefully.
"Felicity told me you were playing golf this morning and I contacted the club telling them that I had an important message that I had to deliver in person."
"What's so urgent that it can't wait until I got back to the office?"
"I'm afraid this requires your immediate attention, sir," Gerard moves his gaze over my shoulder. "Is there somewhere private where we could talk?"
"You’re starting to worry me, Gerard."
"It’s the last thing I want, sir, but this is the sort of unpleasant situation that should be dealt with behind closed doors."
I turn around to face Holt and Xander. "I'm sorry, mates. I don't know if I'm going to be able to finish this gam
e."
"You do what you have to do," Xander says.
"What he said," Holt points his thumb towards Xander. "We’ll wait for you at the club’s restaurant.”
"Thank you," I say.
I'm not sure what's going on, but something tells me my nearly perfect morning is about to change.
CHAPTER 45
Barrett
I expected bad news.
I didn't expect the world to end.
After Gerard dropped a bomb that threatened to send my world tumbling down a chaotic spiral and straight to financial hell, I immediately called Tyler and asked him to meet me at my office. The three of us have been locked in a conference room for the past fifteen minutes as Gerard recounts the facts. Since we left the golf course, I’ve been trying to make sense of it all. So far, it's been a dismal failure. It's like running around in circles and banging your head against a wall with each revolution. Hearing the horror story a second time, doesn't help matters much. I'm still fucking angry.
“Two million pounds?” Tyler says, shaking his head. “Bloody hell.”
“Yeah,” I nod.
“Are you sure it wasn’t a mistake on your part, Gerard? Or maybe one of the junior accountants? It could’ve been a digit error. Perhaps it was supposed to be a transfer of twenty thousand, and not two million,” Tyler says.
“I’ve triple checked the numbers before running to Mr. Ascott. It would've been grossly unprofessional of me not to do so before pulling the rug right from underneath him,” Gerard says.
“Two million buys a lot. Who would need that kind of money?” Tyler asks, turning to face a man that’s just turned beet red.
Gerard straightens his tie and clears his throat. "With all due respect, Mr. Edwards, I’ve drilled every single one of our junior accountants. No one recalls this transaction. As for me, I’ve built my reputation on absolute honesty and transparency. I like money just as much as the next person, but I have no intentions of rotting in prison for theft. I love my freedom. I love my wife. And I love my three children far too much for that sort of nonsense," Gerard says in a clipped tone.
I don't blame Tyler for asking the hard questions. It's comforting to hear Gerard respond with such unwavering steadfastness.
"I'm sorry if I came across a little heavy-handed, but I have my best friend’s vested interests at heart. There’s already been enough drama to last a lifetime with the former accountant, I'd hate for this to be a repeat."
"I can assure you, this isn't," Gerard insists.
“In that case, I repeat what I said earlier, this situation is beyond unbelievable," Tyler rakes his fingers through his hair.
"That's exactly what I've been telling Gerard since he dropped the news in my lap," I say.
"Other than Gerard and yourself, how many people inside your firm have this kind of signing authority, mate?" Tyler asks.
"That’s where the plot thickens," I say.
Tyler's eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?"
I shift my eyes to Gerard and nod.
He nods back. "I spent hours on the phone this morning with Patrick Cochran, the bank's vice president. He lined up a few of his top employees to do a thorough investigation and he assures me that Mr. Ascott’s authorization code was used to transfer the funds to a new account in Gibraltar.”
“One I never set up," I say.
"What?" Tyler exclaims.
"This isn't a joke," I say.
"When the hell did this happen?" Tyler questions.
"The money was transferred at about four a.m. this morning,” Gerard tells him.
I was in my bed with Charlotte's warm body nestled against mine at that time. I was nowhere near a laptop.
"Okay. That’s easy. We have a lead. Gibraltar is a British overseas territory. We can track the money there and revert the transaction," Tyler says.
"Not quite," Gerard warns. "The money has already been moved to an account in Luxembourg."
"In whose account did the money land?" Tyler asks.
"Privacy laws prevent us from finding that out. We’d need to go to a higher power in Luxembourg to get that kind of authorization. We’re talking about days, if not weeks," Gerard announces.
"That's as long as the money stays in that country,” I say.
“Blimey,” Tyler exhales.
"It appears that I not only have a mole inside my firm, but I also have a pretty tech savvy thief. The question is who is it and when will they strike again. I can assure you that if they were able to move that kind of money once, they will do it again. Sure, we can change our authorization codes, but since they were able to hack our systems, there's nothing preventing them from doing it again." I pinch my lips together as the bile churns inside my stomach. Fuck you, whoever you are.
"In that case, we need to pool our resources and figure this out as quickly as humanly possible," Tyler bangs his fist on the conference room table.
"Where do we start?" I ask. This news has completely derailed me.
“We can rule out the evil Ascotts, because they’re history and they no longer have any access to your accounts—”
A knock on the door interrupts Tyler.
"Come in!" I shout.
Felicity pokes her head through the door.
"What is it?" I ask.
Dread curls in my stomach as I take in the horrified expression on her face. She holds my gaze for a fraction of a second before averting it. The next thing I know, she's blushing furiously.
"No way!" I shout.
"I'm afraid so, sir," she says. She’s still unable to look me in the eyes.
"More photos?"
She nods and lifts a large manila envelope.
"Brilliant." The sarcasm drips from that one word. I turn to face Tyler. "I thought everything was in police custody?"
"The lead investigator, Christopher Bergeron, confirmed that with me at least a dozen times. I checked with him again yesterday to find out when we would be able to get our hands on what they collected during the raid and he told me that everything was still on standby until the police sort out this drug situation," Tyler tells me.
Tyler kept his end of the bargain. The investigators he hired did a stellar job. They collected everything they could get their hands on at Marlon's place. Everything was going great until one of the investigators opened a closet that revealed another layer of deceitfulness. It turns out that when Marlon isn't conning people out of their money with his despicable photos, he’s selling prescription pills obtained illegally to addicts. In other words, he's your regular upstanding citizen. Of course, the police had to be called in. A few days after the raid, they picked up Marlon when he landed at Heathrow. He’s been in custody ever since. Unfortunately, the police confiscated everything our guys collected because it's part of a bigger investigation now. I was this close to getting my hands on Mum’s and Charlotte's photos. Now, it's a painful waiting game.
"Someone's trying to get your attention, sir," Felicity says.
"You mean, someone is mocking me." I lift my eyes to my secretary. "Cancel everything I have lined up for the rest of the afternoon—including my meeting with Holt and Xander. The same applies for next week. I'm not leaving this office until I’ve figured this out."
"Yes, sir. I'll get on it immediately."
"Thank you."
"Of course," Felicity says taking a step inside. “The envelope, sir.”
“Keep it. I don’t want to see what’s inside. Not now anyways.”
“I understand. Let me get to it,” she says before making her exit.
"Thank you," I repeat.
“Gerard," I say meeting my chief accountant's bewildered gaze. "I want you and the team to backtrack your steps for the last three months. I want to know every single authorization code that was used for every single transaction. And I want time and date stamps. If we don't find anything, go back six months."
"Yes, Mr. Ascott. I'm on it right now."
With that, Gerard gathers his laptop,
papers and phone before rushing out the conference room.
Only Tyler and I are left.
I breathe in deep, letting the air out of my lungs by flaring my nostrils. I mentally count to ten to avoid trashing every piece of furniture around me and smashing my fists into the windows. Although it does little to tame the rage coursing through my veins, it does allow me to speak. “It seems like I’m getting a 2-for-1 special today. Why deal with one crisis, when two can really throw you off your axis?”
"I'm really sorry, mate."
"You know it's them," I say, holding his gaze.
"I think you're right."
"No one else has any interest in seeing me bend the knee like they do." I pause. "Archer and Cormac want to destroy me? Ridicule me? Steal from me? Threaten people I care about?”
“Barr—”
“It stops here. Fuck them all. I’m declaring war on their sick asses. I don’t only want blood, I want their heads on a fucking platter.” I slam my hand so hard against the wooden table Tyler flinches.
CHAPTER 46
Charlie
Twelve days later
When I step inside the party room at the Grand Roychester hotel in Hyde Park, I scan my surroundings until my eyes land on a familiar face. He flashes me a row of brilliant white teeth and waves me over. Excited, I part the crowd and stroll until I'm standing right in front of him.
"You look dashing in your tuxedo," I say, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. "I forget how well you clean up," I smile smoothing down the expensive fabric of his jacket with the palm of my hand.
“Who are you kidding? You look stunning, Charlie.” Terry's eyes widen as he takes me in.
"Really? You're not just saying that?"
"Bite your tongue. You look fabulous and you know it," Terry admonishes.
"Last week was brutal. I won't say no to a little ego boost," I say.
"In that case, allow me to add to what my boyfriend just said. Although we only got here ten minutes ago, it’s clear as day that you’re the most beautiful woman here tonight,” Derek smiles. "I still can't believe we’re lucky enough to have you as our date."
You're All I Think About_Second Chance Romance Page 33
