“Ones that won’t embarrass your family, you mean? Or involve police?” Felicity asked, tone flat and cool. “Let me guess: you’ll have a check written for $1.4 million in exchange for my silence?”
“That’s certainly one approach. And given the…inconvenience you’ve experienced, I will make sure that that’s on the table no matter what. It’s the least I can do.” Rosalind folded her arms. “But right now I’m seeking an option that won’t negatively impact Living Ruff. As you mentioned to Harvey, it’s obvious how a scandal will play out. My foundation will be destroyed. The homeless and their animals will suffer. We both know Living Ruff does a lot of good. So can we reach an alternative, mutually beneficial agreement?”
“That depends. Will Charles face justice? Will Harvey stay on at Living Ruff?”
“Yes and unfortunately no, in that order.” Rosalind’s gaze trailed Felicity’s face. “Ms. Simmons, I have a proposal. But I think before I explain its merits, I’m aware you’ll be naturally skeptical as to my motives. I can see you believe my only interest here is in protecting my family and sweeping this under a rug. Therefore, it’s only natural you’ll push back against anything I suggest. With that in mind, first I’d like to offer proof of my intentions.”
Rosalind pulled a phone from her stylish navy jacket pocket and tapped a number. It rang a long time before connecting.
“Charles? Rosalind. I need you here now for an urgent meeting.” She paused, pursing her lips. “I don’t care. Pay her and put her in a cab. I said now. No arguments.” She waited for agreement, then hung up.
“You’re having it out with Charles?”
“Well, that implies too much leeway from his end. I’m giving him the brief chance to wheedle, beg, and explain himself, then I’m pronouncing sentence. If you feel my punishment is adequate, then we’ll talk about not calling the police and how else we can move forward.”
“I’m not sure why you think I’d agree to anything that doesn’t see Charles in handcuffs for his scam. It doesn’t get much lower than stealing from the homeless.”
“I understand why you’d feel that way,” Rosalind said, and suddenly smiled a teasing, slow-curling smile. “The thing about men like my brother is, you have to know where to hit them. Charles’s softest parts aren’t nearly as impacted by being charged with a crime he can get out of with that slick tongue of his and an expensive lawyer. What I have in mind will hit him harder and have longer repercussions.”
“What would hurt him more than being publicly humiliated as a scammer in court?” Felicity asked incredulously.
“Patience.” Rosalind rose from the couch and wandered over to a buffet containing bottles of spirits, wine, and glasses. “Would you like a drink while we wait for him?”
“No, thanks, I’m fine.” Felicity had the strong impression she’d need to be on her toes for what lay ahead.
“All right.” Rosalind poured herself what looked to be a gin. “I have a few calls to make to ensure I have my brother’s back sufficiently to the wall for what I’m planning. Then we will resolve this matter entirely.” She took a sip of her drink, then reached for her phone.
CHAPTER 13
Deal Done
Charles burst into the library, his fury a counterpoint to the apologetic expression on the face of the elderly servant who closed the door behind him.
“Jesus Christ, Rosalind,” he snapped. “Where’s the damned fire? I was entertaining.” His untucked, misbuttoned shirt suggested the nature of the entertaining.
“She can wait.” Rosalind had positioned herself precisely in a red-velvet wingback armchair with brocade embedded in the seams. Her arms rested along the armrests, her legs perfectly crossed at the ankles; she could pass as a deportment book’s cover model. Her elegant swan-like neck was angled to face the door and her brother. “And the fire, Charles, is right here.” She waved to where Felicity sat on the facing couch.
Charles turned, and his face transformed. Charm spread across it briefly, then disappeared as hesitation, and finally suspicion replaced it. “Ms. Simmons, we meet again. I’m surprised it’s so soon.”
“Charles.” Felicity used his first name deliberately. “I’ve just been discussing with your sister the conclusion of my investigation into Living Ruff.”
“Oh?” he said cautiously, then slowly walked over to stand in front of her. He was a big man, solid and imposing, but his natural cockiness was missing. “And?”
Felicity gave a small wave in Rosalind’s direction. “I’ll let your sister explain what I found.”
Charles pivoted back to face his sister, jaw tight.
“Ms. Simmons has deduced that you’re involved in a million-dollar scam.” Rosalind’s eyes flashed in irritation.
“She’s been misinformed.” He snapped his head back and forth between the two. “I’d never turn on family.”
“Who mentioned family?” Rosalind arched an eyebrow. “And I notice you haven’t said, ‘Goodness, what scam?’”
“I was getting to it,” he growled.
“Don’t bother.” Rosalind’s manicured fingernails tapped the red velvet. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You have five minutes to explain yourself. For every lie you tell, I will make your punishment worse. Do bear that in mind before you launch into your usual creative tall tales.”
“You’re not even going to give me the benefit of the doubt? I’m just guilty?” Charles glowered.
“There’s little room for doubt. I’ve heard Ms. Simmons’s evidence. It’s been gathered from multiple sources.”
“I’ll bet it has. Well, Harvey’s lying. He’s a little man out of his depth trying to impress his wife with grand plans—and he fucked up. He’s trying to shift the blame from his own bad decision-making. Hell, he’s actually trying to prop up a factory wiped out by a landslide using donor money just to get the shit he ordered!”
“Who mentioned Harvey? You really are dreadful at this, Charles.” Rosalind’s restless, drumming fingertips paused. “Now, we’ll call that lie number one, even though you bundled several atrocious untruths together. For the record, Ms. Simmons has been in contact with a journalist in China who informed her that Shenzhen Industries was unaffected by the landslide you mention. Not so much as a mud spatter.”
“You’re just taking her word for that? Over mine?”
“No. Not ten minutes ago I spoke to your secretary, who confirmed you’ve received many new shipments from Shenzhen in recent months. Tell me, how is that possible for a factory you just said was ‘wiped out by a landslide’?” Rosalind repeated his quote mockingly.
Charles’s jaw worked.
“Now, here’s an interesting thing. Imagine my surprise when Darlene tells me you haven’t paid for any collectibles for seven months. And yet…still they come, every one or two months. Apparently, you’ve received orders worth hundreds of thousands of dollars lately. Would you care to explain how you paid for that?”
Charles was silent.
“No clever little tales?”
More silence.
“Well, I have a theory,” Rosalind said. “You know that I’m well acquainted with Rake’s manager.” She turned to Felicity. “That’s an exclusive nightclub my little brother enjoys splashing his cash at to impress the ladies.”
Rosalind turned back to Charles. “The club manager told me last year that you were having difficulty preventing your membership from being suspended due to exceeding their line of credit. You owed them $27,000 in August. I called him tonight to see whether you’d ever settled that debt. Sure enough, the manager said you paid the club in full last September. At the same time, in a rather interesting coincidence, you were also due to pay roughly that amount on your next round of sporting collectibles.”
Charles’s mouth fell slightly open.
“And yet, as Darlene tells me, Charles Stone Sporting Goods didn’t pay for its goods. In fact, it hasn’t paid one dime toward any of its shipments since the middle of last year. Here’s where things get really interesting, though. In the same month that you paid off your club debt and missed your payment for Shenzhen, Living Ruff made its first investment in animal collectibles. Although it might have been an inadvertent investment in baseball collectibles, come to think of it. Am I wrong?”
Charles’s mouth opened.
“Remember, for every lie, I make it hurt more.”
His mouth closed.
“You’ll notice I’ve left Harvey out of this. My trusting husband seems to be under some odd delusion that you have the power to make me dislike him. And he seems to think, again thanks to you, that he deserves it. I can forgive you many things, Charles, but not making the gentlest soul alive doubt his worth to me and to himself.” Rosalind rose to her feet and stalked over to him. Although he was taller than her by a good foot, Charles shrank away in the face of her cold fury. “That. Is. Unforgivable.”
He winced.
“What should I do with you?” Rosalind snapped. “For scamming my husband, bringing my charity into disrepute, putting me in a position that will force me to fire the man I love from the job that means everything to him! Not to mention, he’s now decided he is unworthy of me after you’ve been gaslighting him for over six months.”
