CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
GEMMA
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I was due to have a meeting with my bank manager a few hours after that lunch with Drew, but my emotions were everywhere. My body was thrumming from the orgasm, and it felt like things were left unfinished.
This isn’t over. I want to fuck your pussy again.
I delayed the meeting a couple of days but was told we had to meet. So here I am, walking into the bank.
I’ve worked from home to avoid Drew since. We can’t keep doing this. He knows we can’t. I think I need to accept the buyout and walk out of his life.
Unfortunately, some tough financial decisions now need to be implemented.
Are you closing the stores?
Yes.
Which means my ten percent share will end up being worthless. This is not how I wanted to go into the meeting with the bank today, but I have to face the facts.
One of them, Drew Carrington, is enjoying the sexual games we are playing, but they will never mean anything more to him. Meanwhile, I’m having daydreams about him having afternoon tea with my daughter.
Last time I went to the New York Zoo, I was about ten years old. Tell Zoe I accept her offer.
We are both playing a dangerous game.
I push thoughts of him out of my head and smile when the bank manager steps out of his office.
“Mrs. Ford, come through,” Mr. Johnson says.
“Thank you.” I place my Louis Vuitton purse on the seat next to me and cross my legs.
“So, well done on selling the business.” He nods.
“Thank you,” I reply, sucking in my cheeks because it might be happy news for him, but it’s not exactly a victory in my life.
And it’s not going to pay the dividends I’d hoped.
Should I tell him, or buy myself some more time?
“Obviously, we need to discuss the plan going forward, as the number wasn’t what we were hoping for.”
I swallow.
New York is an extremely expensive place to live, one of the priciest in the world. Anthony bought us a multimillion-dollar penthouse, and the payments are staggering.
With no income after my contract ends, and very little employment opportunities—zero, in fact—there is a strong chance I’m going to vomit.
The manager slides a printout across the desk, and my stomach silently lurches.
“Here is the current situation.”
“Yes,” I say, knowing I have gone pale.
“The interest is building, I’m afraid. The payments from Obsidian Capital are not even covering the monthly requirements.”
Oh.
“There are also the shares,” I say, knowing full well there isn’t. I think of Zoe and the decision I have to make, and tears threaten to well in my eyes.
No.
I will not cry in front of this man.
“Do you have a projection for those?”
Shit.
“No, but I can get those from Mr. Carrington next week if you like,” I offer, buying myself time.
“What are your long-term plans?” he asks, picking up a pen.
I smooth my hand over my skirt. “Well, I’m job hunting.”
He nods.
“Anthony had many contacts,” I lie again, because if he did, I don’t know them.
He nods again. “Perhaps a change of address could ease the pressure.”
I play my only card.
“Well,” I draw in a deep breath, “I have another question. When reviewing my husband’s tax filing, I see there is a discrepancy between that and his bank balance.”
“Oh?”
Not all our accounts were joint, nor do I have a right to them just because we were married. But money is missing. If my calculations are correct.
“I spent hours going through them, and there is a significant amount of cash which should be sitting in an account. Did he have another account? A savings account?”
He studies me for a moment, and then his eyes roam his desk.
“Mr. Johnson, there is a large sum of money not accounted for that would easily service this mortgage. If he had another set of accounts, let me know, and I can get my lawyers to access them.”
My hope is like a flickering lightbulb as he taps his keyboard and starts searching, I assume, through records.
“We don’t have any other accounts for your husband, Mrs. Ford,” he says about three minutes later.
My mouth falls open.
“Nothing?”
He shakes his head.
This can’t be right. I only went back two years, but it appears to be over a million dollars.
“How do I find out where it went?” I ask, slumping in my chair.
“I’m sorry, I can’t advise you on that.” Mr. Johnson’s voice is full of pity, and I want to scream.
Anthony, what have you done?
Where has all that money gone?
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I WISH I smoked cigarettes. A bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes seem appropriate to partake in when you learn millions of dollars are missing.
I rang Anthony’s mother.
“I don’t know anything about his bank accounts, darling. Are you sure you don’t have something in the safe? Check all the files.”
Holding my stomach, I thanked her and ended the call, promising to bring Zoe for a visit soon.
It was a long shot.
Anthony was always very short on information, even when I asked about our finances.
“You raise our daughter, and I’ll look after this side of things, sweetheart.”
Now...now I’m wondering if he was hiding something. The reality that he must have been is starting to dawn on me.
“Millions? Really?” Belinda asks, handing a toy to Zoe.
“I don’t know. It looks like it. What do I do?”
Belinda looks as bewildered as I do. “Is there a chance he was involved in something dodgy?”
I let out a dark laugh. “I doubt it. Anthony was more interested in his briefs being pressed right, and what was in the business media than...dodgy stuff.”
What dodgy stuff would he be involved with?
“Yeah, true.” Belinda shrugs. “He was pretty strait-laced.”
I chew the side of my mouth.
“He did like to gamble,” she adds.
“Do you mean when we went to Vegas? He didn’t spend all that much.” I frown.
“Are you kidding me? He was betting hundred thousand chips!”
My brows shoot up.
Anthony told me they were ten, not one hundred thousand bets.
“You didn’t know?” Belinda asks.
No.
But shame pours over me, and I don’t want to belittle my marriage or husband’s memory. Guilt starts to tug at me, and I shut down.
“The money has to be somewhere.” I tuck my feet under me. “I’ll find the account.”
Belinda gives me that sisterly look, and I tell her to leave it.
“This could be serious, Gem. What if someone stole it?”
I drop my face in my hands. Losing Anthony was bad enough. Losing Open Leaf and now this? I can’t deal with it.
I climb off the sofa and go into the kitchen, away from my daughter. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I pour a glass of water.
“Hey, babe.” Belinda circles the counter and pulls me into her embrace. “There will be an answer. We will work it out.”
“What if there isn’t?” I sob into her shoulder. “What if I have to sell this place?”
“Then you do. You will do whatever it takes to keep a roof over your head, for Zoe,” she says firmly; then I hear her chuckle and pull back, offended. “Maybe he got caught up in the mafia? Probably offed someone.”
I stare at her, then burst into laughter. Snotty, delirious laughter. Because honestly, my life is a goddamn mess, and I wouldn’t be surprised at this point.
What’s clear is I need to accept Drew’s offer.
I need that money now.
God, I wish his arms were around me right now. For the first time since meeting the sexy billionaire, the guilt of desiring him has vanished.
What did you do, Anthony?