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“So...” she began, tapping manicured nails on the armrest. “What can I do for you, Mr. Carnage?”
“You could retract your allegations of assault with both the police and the media.”
Rita laughed. “Not going to happen.”
“You work for the Renshaw’s, right?”
She tut-tutted. “I don’t work for anyone. I have clients. I get paid to satisfy my client’s needs, and then I move on to the next.”
“We’re in a bit of a predicament, Ms. Waltsworth. I need your story retracted.”
“Like I said, not going to happen.”
I leaned forward, my elbows on the desk. In response, Rita leaned back into her chair, maintaining the distance between us.
“I’ve been doing some digging.” I watched carefully for any sign of fear. None yet. But I had plenty more up my sleeve. “You’ve been a very active girl it seems, Ms. Waltsworth... if that indeed is your real name?”
Her lips twitched.
“When I Googled your name, nothing appeared. No social media accounts, no news articles, no mentions whatsoever. So I performed a reverse image search on you from an untagged photo on Rebekah’s Facebook from her wedding.”
Another lip twitch.
“It turns out you’ve been Vanessa Tome, Veronica Steele, Sarah King... and that’s just to name a few.”
She cleared her throat, her knee bouncing from nerves.
“And I particularly like this picture of you...” I moved my monitor so she could see herself in action. “This is you and Harold Reynold holidaying in the Greek Isles right before he filed for bankruptcy. He only floated his company on the sharemarket the day before, and suddenly he’s rendered broke? Unlikely. And this one...” I scrolled down the page. “Isn’t this David Renshaw and yourself at a charity ball?”
Rita was no longer smiling. In fact, her jaw was now twitching as she attempted to contain her anger. She had been caught out, and she knew it.
“Your game is strong, Rita, but you failed to cover your tracks. Especially from those you tried to fuck over. Number-one rule... don’t ever pose with your clients in photos even when under an alias.”
“I was simply doing as my client asked.”
“So, if I turned down Renshaw’s offer, he would set you out to defame me as payback?”
“That’s correct.”
“That much I’d figured out when you started making sudden appearances around the time of his harassing phone calls and emails. I wasn’t lying when I said, I remember everyone I encounter, and you simply did not ring a bell. I haven’t, however, been able to make the connection between you and Rebekah.”
Rita hesitated before answering. She had nothing to lose, her game was up. “I’m a friend of Roman’s. Was a friend. He insisted I be in the bridal party since her brother was a groomsman.”
“So, he wanted his mistress to be at his wedding, helping his bride prepare for the big day and who he could later fuck throughout the reception?”
“Yep.”
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, and Rita just nodded. Seems we, at least, had one thing in common. We both thought Roman Hopheart was a complete and utter piece of fucking scum.
“So, I’m sure you know how the rest of this goes,” I said, leaning back in my chair and hooking my ankles on the edge of my desk. “But in case I have to make myself perfectly clear, I’ll spell it out. Today... not tomorrow, today... you’ll issue a written statement to the press and visit the police headquarters informing them of your retraction. If you fail to do so by...” I glanced at my watch, “... three this afternoon, you expect me to file a suit against you and the Renshaws for public defamation and false allegations. Any loss of income, as a result of your actions, will fall squarely on your shoulders. Have I made myself clear?”
“Perfectly.”
“You have two hours.”
Rising from her seat, Rita made a bee-line to the door.
“Oh... and Rita?”
She stopped in her tracks, hand already on the handle.
“Give this to Renshaw, would you?” I met her at the door, handing over a sealed envelope. She tentatively accepted the message, her nervous eyes meeting mine.
“What is it?”
“Um... just a little something to clear the air.”
She made to leave, but I stopped her once more.
“And another thing, Rita?”
“Yes?” she asked, slightly irritated.
“I wouldn’t be in the same room when he opens it.”Chapter 24Hawk“We’re all ears.” Ricky sat on the sofa, arms folded across his chest, brows raised in question. If body language was anything to go by, it was going to be one tough audience.
Britta laced her fingers with mine in a sign of solidarity, six pairs of eyes following the movement. We stood in front of her family, each one wanting answers, more than half confused by what was happening before them.
We, of course, we’re adults, and we shouldn’t owe an explanation to anyone. Italian families, however, were a completely different ball game.
