“If Duchessy means you didn’t hang up on me even when you wanted to, then I have to say it’s a good look on you, hon.”
I sniff and laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. “I so want to hang up on you, bitch.”
“Aw, it makes my cold black heart beat a little to know how much you care.”
I roll my eyes, then sit back in the chair. Wallis complains about the change in position, but after digging his claws into my shoulder a few times, he settles back into his nap.
“Now, before you got your Duchess restraint on, you were about to tell me that you’ve gone and fallen for your husband.”
I blink in shock at Darnell. “I was not!”
“Um, yes, baby doll, you were.”
I hate him. Why in the world did I choose such a bastard for a bestie? I have not fallen for Winston. I mean, yes, he’s incredibly sexy, great in bed, fun, and smart. But I haven’t fallen for him. Of course I love the way he brings me a tray of breakfast every morning so when I get out of the shower there are scones and clotted cream and hot coffee waiting.
And what straight woman wouldn’t love having a man strip her naked in his office for a quickie that lasts a solid hour and includes some of the most creative uses of tongues ever known? And I’d have to be an automaton not to notice that he asks about his assistant’s new baby, and that he gives the staff at the house their birthdays off with pay.
But none of that means I’ve fallen for him. Right?
Darnell just sits and waits.
“Fine. Maybe. Just a bit,” I concede grimly.
“Mmhm.”
“He’s really great,” I whisper as I lean forward to the laptop. “He’s, like, nice, and sexy, and considerate and stuff.”
Darnell gives a faux gasp. “Dear Lord, not considerate, too! Whatever will we do?”
I give him the finger and he cracks up. “Glad the Duchessing hasn’t taken over completely,” he sasses. Then his expression grows serious. “But, hon, I’m worried about you. Does he feel the same way?”
There it is again, that disbelief. Because how could Winston Cauldwell, Duke of Surrey, billionaire, Oxford-educated business mogul, fall for me. While I’ve been trying to wear the right clothes and keep the outrageous under wraps, I’m still the girl from working class Chicago. I still love my Chucks, and a great bass beat. I still have dumbass brothers who like to watch MMA on a Friday night. And it’s entirely possible I might flash the Queen’s Guard at any point.
“It’s not a big deal,” I say bravely. “We haven’t talked about it. We’re just having a good time while we wait for the courts to decide whether to hear the challenge to the will. Honestly. I like him, he’s a good guy, but I know we’re not going to end up in some happy ending or whatever.” I scoff with a wave of my hand. “It’s not like I’m Cinderella.”
I hear Deena’s voice from downstairs and take the opening to escape. “Oh, the housekeeper needs me. It’s laundry day,” I lie, and a twinge of guilt wiggles through me. “I’ll Skype next week!” I chirp with the world’s fakest smile before I slam the laptop shut on Darnell’s knowing face.
I take a deep breath then pull Wallis off my shoulder, holding him like a baby in my arms. He’s still so sleepy he just closes his eyes and purrs.
“They really are turning me into a Duchess,” I tell him quietly. “I didn’t hang up when I was mad. Instead, I lied then hung up with a smile. It was the more polite way to do the same thing.”
I kiss him on the nose. “Because I can’t talk about that stuff, Wallis. I can’t feel that stuff, either. This is all just temporary.” Then I rock the evil little kitten like he’s my newborn and try to forget that I’ve gone and fallen in love with the Duke.
40
Winston
It’s Friday afternoon when I finally get all the files from the company’s chief of finance, Albert.
We need to discuss this, he writes in a note at the top of the stack. We both agreed that it would be better to put the information into hardcopies so no one could see them move digitally within our system. David has been locked out, but I’m sure he’s working with at least one other person.
I decide to take the paperwork home where I can dig in to it without interruptions. Kat says she’s not quite ready to leave the office, so I tell her I’ll send Murdoch back after he drives me home.
Two hours later, I’m behind the desk in my grandfather’s study and I’m sick to my stomach. Hundreds of thousands of pounds over the last five years. David and his accomplice have been embezzling for five long years. Money that belongs to our family, the employees, the organizations we fund and invest in. It’s all I can do to keep from jumping in the car and hunting David down like the slimy rat he is.
“How the hell did this happen?” I growl in the silence of the office. I’m so angry I’m shaking with it. And I finally know why David has been so bent on having me disinherited. He knew that if I took over the company, his days of embezzlement were numbered.
I pick up my phone and dial Albert’s cell number.
“You’ve read the files?” he asks as he picks up.
“Five. Years.” I take a deep shuddering breath to try to regain control of myself. “They’ve stolen millions of pounds.”
“I know,” he replies. “And they did it on my watch, which is why I’ll tender my resignation letter first thing in the morning.”
I sigh. Normally, I’d agree. This doesn’t make him look good—or competent. But he did get me the information that proves what’s happening, so I feel as though I need to hold off on judgement, for now.
“I’m not ready to accept that resignation,” I tell him. “But I really do want to know how the hell all this happened. How could the finance and accounting staff miss something this big?”
“There’s no excuse, but I’ll tell you what I know so far. Two sets of books.”
I feel the furrow in my brow as I wait for him to continue. I’ve heard of this, but it seems like it was something done by mobsters in the nineteen twenties. I can tell I’ve been living in Chicago when the first thing that comes to my mind is the American mafia.
“Whoever did this,” he continues, “kept a separate set of records. The reason it took me so long to get those files to you was because they were hidden in a parallel drive of the company system. Not even Rob, the head of IT, knew that drive was there.”
My head spins. “So you’re saying someone in tech was in on this, as well?”
He clears his throat. “I think they had to be. And so does Rob. This drive was hidden, kind of like the dark web. On it were the doctored invoices—all inflated, of course.”
“So the vendors would charge us extra, David and his cohorts would then pocket the extra money, but what you were shown, what the accounting staff saw, were spreadsheets that only had the uninflated invoices?”
“That’s correct.”
“If we’ve been paying out mountains more cash than we thought, does that mean the company’s assets are much less than we know?” I squeeze my eyes shut as my stomach roils. I’ve been waiting my whole life to control this company and now I’m about to find out it’s in the swamp, gasping for solvency, and all the people that rely on it—on me, as the CEO—are going to be at risk.
“It’s going to take an outside team of forensic accountants to sort this, Sir. But from the preliminary examination I’ve conducted, assuming those records I found for you are the whole picture, then yes, our assets aren’t what we thought. But.” He pauses and I hold my breath the whole time. “It’s not anything that we can’t recover from pretty readily. In fact, if we closed down the Duchess’s Foundation, we could replace the stolen assets in one move.”
My stomach burns a touch. The Foundation was my grandmother’s dream, something she’d wanted for years before my grandfather finally agreed to it. And I know Kat has high hopes for it, as well. But the entire company and all the Duchy’s assets have been compromised here. Closing it would be for the greater good. Plus, w
hile Kat’s enjoyed the prospect of handing out hundreds of thousands of pounds, she’s only here temporarily. I can’t make long-term decisions about the company based on the whims of a short-term Duchess.
My grandmother would understand, I tell myself. I’m sure Kat will, too.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” I say. “We’ll close down the Foundation monies to buoy the company’s assets so we’re put back to rights. I’ll let the Foundation staff know. We can give them a month or two to find other jobs. I’ll want them given first priority if we have any vacancies in the company as a whole that they could fill.”
“Of course,” he says. “Would you like me to set up a meeting about it for tomorrow? We can bring in the head of H.R. and the Foundation staff and investment advisors.”
My insides are crawling now, and my head throbs, but this is what being the CEO entails. Sometimes you have to make difficult decisions. David caused all this. Not me. “Yes,” I answer, “set it up.” I swallow down the sense of foreboding. “But before that, set up a meeting with the police and the financial crime authorities. They’ll need to get started on this so they can determine who all is involved.” Then I give him one last set of instructions and disconnect.
After I end the call with Albert, I have one more item to cross off my list. I realize now why my grandfather so often bellowed. I’m exhausted, I’m angry as hell, and I don’t have the patience to be polite.
“Samuel!” I yell like a tyrant.
He appears almost instantly. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“I want my cousin David here immediately. Whatever it takes, whoever you have to threaten or bribe. Make it happen.”
The old guy struggles not to grin. I think he’s so used to my grandfather’s ways he loves being bellowed at. “Yes, Your Grace. Right away.”
I pour myself a scotch then, closing my eyes and trying to think of something more pleasant than being robbed of a few hundred thousand pounds. The word pleasant automatically brings up Kat. My mind replays the way her skin looked in the moonlight at four a.m. when, in a barely conscious state, I reached for her. All that hair tumbled around her shoulders as she rode me. Her full breasts molding to my hands, her long neck arching as she orgasmed around me.
If I were to use one word to describe Kat, it would be pure. She is pure in everything she does—purely joyful, purely angry, purely beautiful, purely generous. She is so authentic, a light shines from her like no woman I’ve ever known. I think that’s what frightened me so much when I first met her. I’ve lived in a world that is proscribed, not authentic, that is artificial, not pure. The Costa Ricans have a saying, Pura Vida. It’s about living in a way that is simple and real and true. Kat exemplifies it, and I’ve never been as close to it as I am when I’m with her.
I take a sip of my scotch and close my eyes again, remembering the words she whispered in my ear last night. Just the memories alone make my cock grow hard and heavy. Jesus. The woman is my personal aphrodisiac. I don’t seem to ever tire of her.
I’m about to go in search of her—I might have heard her come in while I was on the phone—when the door to the study bursts open and in marches David, followed closely by an exasperated Samuel.
“Your cousin, My Grace,” he announces.
David marches over to my desk, all outrage and disgust. “What the hell is the meaning of this. Murdoch yanked me out of my home, virtually strong-armed me into the Rolls and then dumped me here on your doorstep.”
“Thank you, Samuel,” I say, looking around David.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think Samuel had just winked, but then the door is closed and David and I are alone.
“Have a seat,” I tell him, fake casualness lacing every word.
He drops into a chair unceremoniously. David looks as if he hasn’t slept well lately. There are circles under his eyes, and a wary way about him. Like an animal that’s being hunted.
I push the stack of papers Albert delivered toward him. “I need you to take a look at those,” I say.
He snorts in disgust. “You’ve had me banished from the offices. I’m not helping you now that you’re in over your head.”
I raise an eyebrow, channeling my inner Duke. “Trust me. You’ll want to see those.”
He huffs a little more, but finally reaches out and very precisely plucks the top sheet off the stack. As he leans back in his chair to read it, I see his skin go from ruddy in anger to white in shock in mere seconds.
He clears his throat. “What is this?” he asks, trying to play it off.
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“An invoice for a project from two years ago. But why is it significant?”
I have to hand it to him, he’s not giving up easily. Maybe David has bigger balls than I thought.
“It’s significant, because it—and all the other invoices in this pile—was for more money than the project was costed at.”
His hand shakes as he replaces the paper on the stack. “Sometimes things cost more than the original estimates. We budget a cushion for that.”
“And sometimes, there are two sets of books, one that has invoices charging ten to twenty percent over the actual expenses for the projects, and money that never made it to the company coffers.”
Then I simply wait. And while I wait, I see every possible emotion a human can have roll over David’s face. Fear, panic, rage, horror, and yes, even love. Because David loves the power and the money that his position afforded him, and he will grieve it now that it’s gone.
“I have no idea—” he begins.
“Don’t,” I warn.
His jaw flexes as he tries to stare me down, but his eyelid is twitching, and he knows it’s pointless.
“You really think you can prove it?” he challenges me.
“I won’t have to,” I tell him. “The authorities will be by tomorrow. The entire staff were sent home and the office locked down physically and electronically an hour ago. No one but me and the handful of people I trust will be setting foot in that place until the authorities have sifted through every paper and digital file there.”
I lean forward and look him in the eye. He gulps in fear. “You can not destroy the evidence. We know it was you. It won’t take them long to prove it. You’re going to prison, cousin. Game over.”
Then I sit back and take a sip of scotch. “I hope it was worth it.”
David stands, his whole body noticeably shaking now. He doesn’t say a word, just slowly moves toward the door. As his hand reaches for the lever, I interrupt him one last time.
“And David?”
He turns, his eyes filled with fear and rage.
“I’ll expect that challenge to the will to be dropped before I wake up tomorrow morning. Best call your lawyer on your way out.”
David’s eyes narrow, but he knows there’s nothing left for him here. He opens the door, and there stands Samuel, who doesn’t even make the effort to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping. He peers down his nose at David as only a Duke’s household staff can, then says, “Allow me to escort you to the door, Sir. There is a cab waiting.”
I chuckle as David is nearly shoved out the front door, and Samuel brushes his hands off, before tossing me a grin and wandering away.
I finish off my drink, then decide that a celebration is in order. All of which means, I go in search of Kat.
41
Kat
I’m curled up in the sitting room in our suite, tank top and sweats on, watching some documentary on the royal family and painting my nails. If this were at home in Chicago, I’d be watching the Real Housewives of New Jersey, but when in Rome and all that. Wallis seems to like the show. He’s lying on my lap, purring away, his twitching tail the only sign of the trouble he’ll undoubtedly make when he’s rested up.
We put the final touches on our Foundation proposal today and I’m exhausted but also incredibly happy. I can’t wait to present it to Win. He’ll be blown away. Deirdra said she’s never worked this h
ard on an annual funding proposal before, and also never seen such an amazing one. If I hadn’t taken Winston up on the offer to marry him and come to London, I’d never have tried something like working for a foundation, and I’d never have discovered how much I like it. Assuming Deirdra’s not just kissing up, I’m good at it, too. I’ve never been good at much besides mouthing off and spinning beats, so that’s a double win.
In his happy place, Wallis kneads my leg and nearly punctures the skin. “Ow! You little fucker,” I yelp as I unhook his paw from my sweatpants.
“The fucker, I’ll accept,” Win’s voice comes from the doorway to the Duke’s bedroom. “But never little.”
I look over at him with a smirk and he grins at me before plucking Wallis off my lap. He sits on the sofa next to me and holds Wallis up so they’re nose to nose. Wallis blinks at him and meows in his tiny voice.
“You need to learn some respect, mate,” Win tells him very seriously. “If you ever expect the ladies to love you, the claws will have to go. Women appreciate a soft touch.” Winston waggles his eyebrows at me and I roll my eyes even as my cheeks heat and I begin to ache for just that touch he does so well.
He sets Wallis on the floor, then turns to me, tugging one of my feet into his lap.
“I’ve had some bad news and some good news,” he says as he begins to rub my foot. I try to stay focused when what I really want to do is moan in ecstasy. Wearing real shoes instead of Chucks all day makes my feet hurt like crazy. “Which do you want first?”
“Um, the bad, I guess.”
His thumb rolls over my arch and I gasp. Damn that feels great.
“David and his cronies embezzled hundreds of thousands of pounds from the company over the last five years.”
I jolt upright, pulling my foot from his hands. “What?!”
He nods grimly. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Oh my God. How is there any good news after that?”
“The authorities start investigating tomorrow, David is cancelling the challenge to the will, and my guess is he’ll end up in prison.”
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