“Yes, I’m aware. Much as I wish it weren’t the case, I know you need to see that Charles faces justice. I’m at peace with what’s about to happen. And please, please tell your boss I’m so very sorry I didn’t look after her donation as it deserved. I would do anything to turn back time.”
“Harvey,” Felicity said in exasperation, “what I don’t get is why didn’t you simply go to your wife and tell her you were being blackmailed by her brother? Surely if you talked to her first, all of this could be avoided.”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” came a low feminine voice behind them.
Harvey started, his head whipping around to face the door.
Felicity turned to see Rosalind leaning against the door’s frame, expression grim.
“H-how much did you hear?” Harvey asked, face paling.
“All of it.” Rosalind’s lips were a tight, angry line. “I came to listen in because I thought I might finally get some answers. Such as why you’ve been losing hair and weight, barely sleeping, and looking ten years older these days. Most of all, I needed to know why you’d stopped talking to me about anything personal.”
“I—” Harvey petered out.
“No.” She gave her husband a brisk, assessing look. “Being taken in by a scam thanks to my scheming brother is one thing. Not trusting me? Doubting my love for you? That is quite another.”
Harvey crumpled under her words, his shoulders sagging, his eyes tearing up.
Felicity retreated over to the tall windows to give them privacy. In the reflection, though, she could see the two clearly.
Rosalind’s face softened, her eyes darting toward Felicity’s back as if to check that no witnesses existed. Then she cupped Harvey’s cheek in her hand and said so softly that Felicity almost couldn’t hear. “You silly, beautiful man.” She leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips. “When will you ever believe me when I tell you no one has ever turned my head the way you do?”
Rosalind drew her fingertips down his cheek. “The fact that you were scammed by Charles only reinforces my belief that you’re too good for this world. You see only the best in everyone. You trust without reservation. Everywhere I turn, I see manipulators. They want my power, my money, my endorsement. I accept that this is my life, that it’s filled with people who only take. No one ever talks about the coldness that comes with having vast wealth. And then I come home to you.”
Harvey’s head lifted.
“That’s where I feel only warmth,” Rosalind continued in that soft, gentle voice. “And all you ever do is give.”
She leaned her forehead into his. “Yesterday I called and told you I’d had a terrible day. I came home to find the most beautiful smells from my favorite meal in the oven. The music I love most was playing, even though I know Vivaldi makes you groan. You asked if I’d prefer a foot or a back massage—as if the option of neither hadn’t even entered your head. Darling, I feel your love in every look and touch. I feel so much warmth. You are the reason I rush home early from all those charity balls and galas. You are my home. Don’t ever doubt that again. We will talk about this properly later, but right now I need a private word with Ms. Simmons.”
Harvey nodded, his hands reaching for his wife’s, which he squeezed for a long moment. Their gazes were locked. Then he croaked out: “Love, I really am so very sorry.”
“I know.” Her smile was sad. “I know you are.”
Felicity waited until she heard the door snick before turning. Rosalind had her back to her, still staring after her husband.
As long as she lived, Felicity would never forget what she’d just seen. It hadn’t ever occurred to her that a powerful, imposing woman might need a Harvey in her life. He seemed to recharge her emotional reserves. That’s why Rosalind loved her mild-mannered bookkeeper. Among other things, he kept her going when she was drained by a demanding world.
All the times Felicity had heard love described over the years, a concept she couldn’t really relate to, it had been in terms of shallow, unrealistic ideals. True loves. Wild passion. Rainbows and roses. Not…this.
Intensity. Warmth. Intimacy. Support. Finding ways to provide what the other lacks. A partnership. A…balance.
It was confusing, actually. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around it.
“Ms. Simmons,” Rosalind said, her voice cool and pointed as if she hadn’t just bared her soul to her husband. The tone contained a warning, too, as if daring her to even suggest she’d heard a word of that intensely private conversation.
Felicity would sooner die than admit it.
Rosalind sauntered into the middle of the library. “Thank you for solving a mystery that has been plaguing me for half a year: where my happy husband went.” She settled onto the couch cushion Harvey had just vacated.
Felicity joined her at the opposite end of the couch and waited.
“So now we have a problem to solve, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’d have thought it has a pretty simple solution,” Felicity said. “I call the police. Harvey testifies against Charles as the victim in the scam. He also resigns from Living Ruff for his incompetence. Your brother goes to prison. The Living Ruff board appoints a new director. And Bartell Corp pursues Charles through the civil courts to get my boss’s donation back.”
Rosalind eyed her serenely. “I’m wondering if you’re open to other options.”
“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.”
