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Chapter Two
Abby
Men like Henry Sullivan were despicable. Abby gazed down at the older man with cool disdain, but he was much too caught up in fondling her to notice. For a second, she felt nauseated. There she was, mere hours before her father’s funeral, straddling this overweight lawyer. Her subconscious screamed at her. What are you doing? This isn’t you.
She shoved the thought aside. This was her now. This was who she’d had to become to avenge her father and her family.
Henry Sullivan was only the first step in the plan. She needed information. Abby knew she could get the man to sing like a canary the day he’d arrived at the Aldridge mansion. He’d come to present her father’s last will and testament. Henry, being a big fan of younger women, had blatantly ogled her the entire time he read the will. His meaty hands groped her bra-clad breasts as he gazed at them hungrily.
“What really happened to my father, Henry?”
He glanced up, his beady, hooded eyes were clouded with lust and confusion. “He ... hung himself,” Henry said slowly.
Abby gritted her teeth. No shit, Captain Obvious. “I’m well aware, Henry,” she said, “but what I mean is, why would he do that? Surely, you know. You were close friends. He must have said something to you about what was going on with him.” She’d heard rumors about why Caleb Aldridge had taken his own life, but before she could move forward with her plan, she had to be certain.
“I don’t think now is the time to talk about …”
She gripped his jaw with one hand and squeezed. “Now is the perfect time,” she said with steel behind each word. His eyes lit up with excitement, and his breathing escalated. Her sister was right—the man loved to be dominated. Abby didn’t want to know how Elaina knew that.
“Tell me, Henry.”
Rubbing his palms over her bare ass, he said, “He lost everything.”
“How?”
“Aldridge Enterprises went bankrupt. A few bad investments, you see. Someone swooped in and stole the company right from under Caleb.”
“Who was responsible for this hostile takeover?”
Henry shook his head. “I'm not at liberty to say, Abigail. I’m temporarily under this individual’s employ until everything has been transferred over to ... I can’t say any more.”
Abby’s eyes narrowed. Henry Sullivan was a worm. How could he work with someone who’d allegedly caused his friend’s death? He’d been her father’s lawyer for as long as she could remember. He’d been to their home many times for dinners and holidays. The pervert even used to encourage her to call him Uncle when she was younger. Now she understood why—Henry was a sick bastard.
His deviant nature aside, the fact that the disloyal piece of crap could so easily be swayed by money made Abby want to claw his chubby face. She had to play nice though. Her tone dropped to a more seductive octave, and she leaned forward, making sure her breasts rubbed against his chest.
“Please, talk to me, Henry. After being separated from my family for so long, I feel so left out. I just want to know what’s happening. You know?” She hoped her eyes were pleading enough, and her pout was up to standard. Trailing a finger over his lips, she purred. “I’ll make it worth your while, Henry.”
His pupils dilated. His lips parted, and his breathing became labored. She eyed him carefully, hoping his reaction was because he was turned on and not because the old fart was about to go into cardiac arrest. She’d glimpsed the box of Viagra in his top drawer. If he keeled over and died before she got the information she wanted, she’d be pissed.
“His name is Damian Coldwell,” Henry said as he eyed her breasts. “He’s just a businessman. He seemed to come out of the woodwork. It was like he’d been flying under the radar for years before he popped up and snatched Caleb’s company from under him. Rumor has it that he’s responsible for sabotaging Caleb a number of times, he made sure that his businesses failed. All I know about Coldwell is that he buys companies, gets them to look good on the books, pumps up the value and sells them to the highest bidder. Sometimes he keeps a few to run for himself. I’ve only recently had an opportunity to glimpse how he does things. The man’s a fucking genius, if you ask me.”
Hope blossomed in Abby. Maybe she could use Henry to do her dirty work. “So, you’re what …? A part of his inner circle now? His legal counsel?”
Henry laughed. “I wish. He pretty much told me to gather everything about your father’s company and his assets, hand them over to his lawyer, and then to fuck off. At least, he’s paying me handsomely.”
The hope in Abby withered. It seemed she’d have to get her hands dirty after all. She wondered if she could become the femme fatale she’d need to be to get things done…to seduce her way into this stranger's bed, to get dirt on him—of the most compromising nature—and then systematically destroy him. It sounded like something out of a movie—a really bad one where no one wins. Hysterical laughter nearly consumed her, but she confined the thoughts to her mind and not her mouth.
Innocent, slightly nerdy Abby, who got more excited about Van Gogh and Picasso paintings than she did about men and dating was no wicked seductress. But, her innocence had fled the building—in her opinion—the second she’d allowed Henry to put his filthy hands on her for information. There was no coming back from that.
She met Henry’s leer and struggled to hold back a grimace. The need to wrap her hands around his fat neck was nearly overwhelming. He was working with Damian Coldwell—The Traitor. “He already gotten the company though, Henry. Why Daddy’s assets?”
Henry shrugged. “Despite the meeting I had with your clan, there’s nothing to be done. Nothing Caleb left behind will stay with any of you for long. He left behind a lot of debt, you see. Your family is going to lose everything. I don’t know what to tell you except that if you need someone to take care of you, I’ll be more than happy to oblige ... for a price.” His eyes dipped to her breasts once again and his sweaty palms moved lower to caress her soft thighs.
She let out a purr of laughter. “Oh, Henry, how generous, but I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.” She pulled away and stood up. “Oh, shoot. I’m afraid I don’t have time to give you that gift I promised … I don’t want to be late.” Abby reached for her dress and slid it on with haste.
Henry’s face took a dour turn. “But ... but ...”
She interrupted his sputtering. “But what, Henry? You want me to miss my father’s funeral to blow your whistle? Have you no respect?” His mouth clamped shut and she wheeled around to march out of his office.
