Officer Covey tensed at her words. “I need you to know I have backup on the way.”
“For what?” Mischa asked. “What’s going on?”
“Ralph Wolfram has reported that his daughter ran away. If you know where she is, or have any information that will lead to her, you need to tell me.”
Mischa’s grip tightened on her hand, and she felt the tremor run through his arm and into hers. At least she wasn’t the only one using the connection as a lifeline.
“I did tell you.” Ash tried to keep her voice calm. “She lives here, and she’s probably in her room.”
“Where is that?” Covey stepped further into the house.
Mischa moved to block his path.
“Don’t.” Ash tugged Mischa back.
He opened his mouth.
“The officer is just the messenger.” She was surprised she kept her voice from shaking. “He’s doing his job.” She looked at Covey. “I’ll get Kelly. You’ll see she’s fine, and we can all have the rest of our afternoons back. This way.”
Covey stepped around a scowling Mischa, and followed Ash toward the door that led to the downstairs apartment. She knocked, and called, “Kel-bel. Come upstairs?”
“Be right there,” Kelly’s reply carried back.
“Now step away.” Covey gestured for Ash to move aside, hand still at his hip.
That was bullshit. “I swear to God, if you pull a gun on my fourteen year-old sister, the news will go viral so fast, your head will spin.” Ash didn’t try and keep her voice calm this time. She didn’t know how she’d do it, but she’d make good on the threat.
The muscles in his neck stood out, but he dropped his hand. A second later, the door swung open, and Kelly bounced into the room. She stopped, eyes wide, when she saw Covey.
“Kelly Wolfram?”
She nodded slowly.
“Your father is worried about you. He’s reported you missing. I need to take you home.”
“I am home.” Kelly’s voice was tiny. She looked at Ash. “I didn’t do anything. Don’t make me go.”
Ash’s heart shattered at the plea. “This is Dad’s doing. I don’t think I have a choice.”
“I don’t want to go.” Kelly’s chin quivered, and her eyes filled with tears.
“Shit,” Covey muttered. “Does your dad hit you? Do I need to take you into custody and call CPS?”
Child Protective Services? How much further was this going to spiral out of control?
“Custody?” Mischa asked.
“If there’s abuse, the courts will need to get involved, but I won’t take her home to an environment like that. Are you scared to go home, hon?”
Kelly shook her head, and tears spilled down her cheeks. “This is home.”
Ash was tempted to say Yes. Her father beats her. But the lie wouldn’t take long to uncover, and knowing her father, the backlash would make this even worse. “There’s no abuse, because she’s lived with me for several years.”
Covey’s expression had softened, probably because Kelly was sobbing silently. Another knock interrupted, and a female officer stepped through the open front door. She frowned the moment she saw Kelly. “Is everything all right?”
“I’ll fill you in,” Covey said. He looked at Ash. “He’s her legal guardian. He filed a missing person’s report. Unless you can show me she’s in danger, or that you have the legal right to keep her here, I need to take her home. I’m sorry.”
Ash wanted to protest, but she felt backed into a corner. “It’s not your fault.”
The female officer approached Kelly, and touched her arm to draw her attention. “Hon, I’m Jen. Do you have anything you need to pack?”
Kelly shook her head. “I’m not going.”
Ash hugged her, not sure what to say.
“I know people.” Mischa’s voice was firm and confident. “You’ll be back here soon.”
“I’m sorry. You’re the ex-boyfriend?” Jen eyed him suspiciously.
“Current fiancé.” Mischa glared at her. “There was a misunderstanding on Mr. Wolfram’s part, about the relationship.”
Jen clenched her jaw. “Word of warning. You have the potential to make this go south real quick for these young ladies.”
“Excuse me?” Ash couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The implication.
“Just a friendly warning. Older man. Younger girl.”
“You’re disgusting.” At least Kelly had stopped crying. Her vicious scowl was made darker by red puffy eyes. She turned toward the basement. “I’m going to get my stuff. Don’t follow me.”
Jen looked at Ash. “Does the basement have a walk-out exit?”
Ash nodded. “Back side of the house.”
Jen sighed and headed downstairs. A moment later, Kelly screamed, “Get out.”
There was a span of time, the clock ticking away, and then Kelly and Jen stepped back into the room. Kelly had a single duffel bag slung over her shoulder.
“Do you want to take your board?” Ash asked.
“No. It’s safer here. I’m only taking the stuff I don’t care about.”
This was so bad. Ash didn’t even know where to turn for a solution.
Covey pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to Ash. “The number for CPS. Good luck.” He sounded like he meant it.
Ash walked them to the door, and watched as Kelly climbed into the front passenger seat of Jen’s patrol car. And then the police were gone.
She rested her forehead against the doorframe, letting the rough texture dig into her skin.
“What can I do?” Mischa’s question was quiet.
Hold me. Tell me it’ll be all right. Make this go away. She choked back the string of responses. She’d take his help, because this was about Kelly, not her, but she wouldn’t let herself believe he was offering out of any sort of affection toward Ash.
“Help me find a good family lawyer?” She turned to look at him.
He was already reaching for his phone. “I’ll start making calls.”
She needed to do the same. She pulled her own phone from her purse, and dialed the number for CPS, from the business card. She wandered to the bottom stair and sat.
The woman on the other end was kind, but otherwise the conversation was almost identical to the one with the police. If Ralph Wolfram was Kelly’s legal guardian, there wasn’t much they could do unless there was a history of abuse. .
Something occurred to Ash. “There’s neglect. He leaves Kelly home alone for days on end, while he’s out of town.”
“With no supervision?” The woman’s voice rose.
“None. He doesn’t make any arrangements at all. Just leaves her there.”
“When was the last time he did this?”
Damn-shit-fuck. “Five years ago,” Ash said softly. “But it’s because she came to live with me after that.”
“But not legally. And you can’t prove it.”
This was all so circular. Ash wanted to scream at someone Help us, damn it. “Because there was no need. He just let me take her.”
“So he did make arrangements. Through you.”
“What? No.” How was Ash making this worse?
“I’ll start a file for you, but if there’s no abuse or neglect, there’s no reason to displace the child.”
“She’s already been displaced.” Ash let her frustration bleed into her voice.
“If she’s not in immediate danger, you have to go through the proper channels. File a complaint, wait for an investigation, and petition for guardianship, to get Kelly back. I can point you toward where to start.”
“I’ll take what I can get, thank you.” Ash wrote down the information the woman gave her. After the line went dead, she stared at her phone. What next?
She was vaguely aware of Mischa’s voice in the other room, and when it stopped. A moment later he sat next to her. The heat from his arm brushing hers was a clear spot in the haze of frustration, but not a big enough one to matter.
“I got a referral from a friend.” His tone was subdued. “He gave me a lot of the same information as the police, but he’s willing to put some hours in. I’ve hired him to make something happen.”
That made Ash feel more lost than ever. Another reason she’d be indebted to Mischa, but not an offer she was willing to refuse. “This is my fault.” The words slipped out, and she frowned at the bitter taste of reality.
“How could you possibly blame this on yourself?” His voice was kind, but a subtle edge lay underneath.
“I went to Dad, and told him you and I broke up. I was trying to convince him to give you a break.”
There was no response. She glanced sideways to see Mischa frowning. She didn’t know how to interpret the look. “He said no—because why would he do otherwise? I’m so stupid. And then he said Kelly was obviously in an unstable environment, and he threatened to take her back.”
“You’re not stupid, and this isn’t your fault. It’s all on him. Kelly’s been happy with you for years. Ralph made the decision to disrupt that. Not you.”
“That’s sweet of you to sa—”
“I’m not being sweet.” He sounded harsh. “It’s honest, and don’t you dare throw it back in my face. This isn’t your fault.”
She wasn’t in the mood to argue. She gave him a thin smile, and swallowed her disagreement with his assessment. “All right.”
He stood. “I’ll tell you what the lawyer says.” His words kept time with his footsteps as he walked up the stairs.
She shouldn’t have provoked him. Or pushed him away. Or... there were so many things she wanted to take back. Maybe this wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t stop counting the bad decisions.
She’d never felt so alone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
MISCHA LAY IN BED THAT night, not even pretending he’d be able to sleep. Every time he heard Ash move in the room next door, he had to suppress the urge to go comfort her. He didn’t care.
Except every time he muttered the insistence, it was harder to believe. If she didn’t want him to reach out to her for these broken parts of her life—he didn’t doubt that’s how she labeled them—she could deal with her father herself.
But this wasn’t just about her. Kelly didn’t deserve to be caught up in whatever the fuck Ralph Wolfram’s issue was. Neither does Ash.
He wasn’t worrying about her. Not even in the slightest. Only completely.
Whenever he thought of the older man, fury raged inside. He wanted to spite Wolfram in the most glorious way possible.
Give one of the buildings to Victoria. Ash’s words popped into his head without permission. Sick satisfaction spread inside. He couldn’t. Could he?
He still owed more than a hundred million for the property, but maybe...
He hopped out of bed, and padded down to his office on the main floor. He had a lot of numbers to run. Accounts to dig into. Balances to verify. It would hurt him financially, but fucking hell it would be worth it.
He woke up to the beeping of his phone, and a sharp jabbing pain in his neck. He rubbed the spot on his cheek, where he’d fallen asleep at his desk, and reached for the offending device.
It was after nine in the morning. At least he’d finally gotten some sleep.
The noise was a text from Tristan. You see the cancellation? You joining us today?
There was an urgent email waiting for him as well, from a potential client he was supposed to show the property to. They’d canceled. Apparently after a conversation with an unnamed associate—he didn’t doubt for a moment they meant Ralph Wolfram—they’d decided to go another route. Bitter amusement rocked inside. How appropriate.
Mischa rubbed his face, and sent back an On my way to Tristan. Time to put this plan in motion.
Five minutes later, after the quickest shower in his history, he headed out the front door. Ash’s car was gone. No surprise there. In a twisted way, he was glad he slept through the lack of Kelly’s happy chatter that morning.
On the way to the office, he dialed the attorney he’d hired, and left a message to call if there was any news. Unnecessary, he was sure, but it made him feel like he was doing something.
When he got to work, he headed straight for Tristan, and knocked on his friend’s open door.
Tristan looked up, brows raised. “Nice of you to join us.”
“I thought so too.” Mischa made himself comfortable in the chair opposite Tristan. “Seriously though, I was up late working, and it was a long night.”
“Not that long, if Ash is at her desk.”
Mischa hadn’t told him about the break-up. How fucked-up was this whole thing if he couldn’t even tell his best friend? “Have you seen her?”
Tristan winced. “She doesn’t look good. You two all right? I mean, besides the obvious.”
Mischa shook his head. “It’s a long story, but short version is, last night Ralph took Kelly back.”
“Asshole.” Venom bled from Tristan’s voice. “That overshadows my good news.”
“No it doesn’t. I could use a little bump in my day. Don’t take that away from me.”
Tristan gave a dry laugh. “Fair enough. This stuff Ash is doing with social media is already yielding results. Serious inquiries that are turning into real leads. Why didn’t we hire her for this up front?”
“She applied for the DBA job. I don’t think she knew any of this until a few days ago.” Mischa didn’t want to feel a rush of pride on her behalf, but the pleasant glow was a nice distraction from the stress.
“She was a brilliant find. You’d better not piss her off and make her quit.” Warning blended with Tristan’s teasing.
Perfect segue. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue. I don’t think she’s the one in the wrong line of work.”
“I assume you mean you? Fatalistic isn’t your style.”
Was that how he came off? It wasn’t what Mischa intended. “Exactly the opposite. I feel better about this than I have anything...” except being with Ash, the thought almost derailed him. “...in a long time.”
“I’ll ignore the awkward pause. What are you thinking?”
“I want you to buy me out.”
Tristan studied him, as if he was looking for the punchline. “This is ours. And you’re good at what you do. No one has your eye for a building’s potential.”
“I know.” Mischa was brilliant when it came to that.
“But you’re giving up.”
“I’m not giving up. I have a plan.” It was insane. Risky. Brilliant. “I’ve been floundering in sales for a while. You can’t deny that.”
“I don’t. Want to let me in on this plan?”
“Buy me out. I’ll pay off Wolfram’s loan with the capital, and then the block will be mine.” God, it sounded ludicrous when he said it out loud. He loved it.
Tristan’s expression said he was right there on the ludicrous bit, but not so much with the love. “We can’t afford that.”
“I can, if you buy me out.” Not completely. It would hurt. He’d have to liquidate a few assets. Funny thing about being a billionaire on paper—it didn’t mean he had those nine zeroes laying around for easy access.
Tristan twisted his mouth. “What the fuck are you going to do with a block’s worth of buildings? Owning them outright won’t make them any easier to move. How are you going to reclaim your investment if you stop selling? Because that’s the other half of this idea of yours, isn’t it?”
“It is. I’ll design for you when you want, but I’m done with real estate sales.”
“Way to avoid the main question. What are you going to do with the property?”
“Give it to Victoria. Or rather, give the foundation she works for the warehouse.” Mischa braced himself for the response. “Take time to sell the rest. Offer you a sizable commission if you do it for me.”
Tristan gabbed his phone. “Now I know you’ve lost your mind. I’m having you committed.”
Better than Mischa expected.
“Victoria’s thing is a tax write-off.”
“Which doesn’t mean you get the warehouse’s value back in some sort of government thanks for being generous check.”
“Thanks. I understand how taxes work.”
“Are you sure? I don’t blame you for wanting to fuck Ralph Wolfram, but almost anything you could think of would cost you less.”
He’d expected Tristan to be resistant to the idea. Mischa needed the rationale to balance him out. But none of Tristan’s arguments were things he hadn’t considered. “It’s a good idea. Okay, it’s a stupid idea. But it’s so dumb, it’s genius.”
Tristan shook his head.
Mischa stood. “Think about it. Twenty-four hours. If you aren’t considering it at least a little by tomorrow, I’ll drop it.” He strode back to his own office before Tristan could respond.
Please God, let this not be the most idiotic thing I’ve ever done.
ASH WASN’T LOOKING forward to going home. Back to the reminder she’d failed Kelly. Back to pretending she didn’t want to make things right with Mischa.
She sank into her car, and leaned her head against the rest, summoning her strength. Most people looked forward to work being over, and she was considering going back into the office, even though it was almost six, and working until she couldn’t think
Instead, she stuck her key in the ignition, and turned. The car clicked a few times, and the dashboard lights flickered. Then nothing. Her heart sank. She tried again, and this time didn’t even get the clicks.
Fuck. Tears stung the insides of her eyelids. This was one thing too many. Probably just a starter or the battery, but she was tired. She swallowed a sob, and planted her forehead against the steering wheel.
Someone knocked on her window, startling her, and she shot her head up. It was Mischa. Of course it is. She stepped from the car. “Hey.” Her voice cracked.
“I’m not going to ask if you’re all right.” The cool tone that had been in his voice for days had been replaced with something softer. “I assume the answer is no, but I’m here if you want.”
That was the problem. She did want, and she didn’t doubt his sincerity at all. “My car won’t start.”
Why is turning to him a problem?
Hard Flip_A Billionaire Romance Page 19
