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So why was she adding another leg to her trip?
Vectra wouldn’t allow herself to mull over the answer for long.
* * *
Lake Misurina was a dream. Vectra had decided her father had made an excellent choice within minutes of her arrival less than twenty-four hours earlier. The lake, site of previous Olympic speed skating events, was known for its crisp, clean air that beckoned asthma sufferers and athletes alike.
Oscar Bauer’s intended digs were just as beckoning. The villa overlooked the lake and the Tre Cime di Lavaredo in the distance. From the master bedroom terrace, Vectra inhaled, accepting the air’s rejuvenating effects while soaking in the glory of the mountains.
As beautiful as it all was, though, she only wanted to be back in her bed waiting for Qasim’s return.
Boy, you really screwed this one up, didn’t you, Vec?
She really had, but the knowledge didn’t erase the fact that too much of her past was still hanging around.
So, now what?
She turned her back on the view, leaning along the rail as she bit at her thumbnail. She thought—hoped—she was beyond all that, beyond second-guessing or examining everything she did for signs that it was all prompted by her past.
It all came down to disclosure, full disclosure. She’d never been able to do that, not with her family, not with anyone. She hadn’t wanted to ever be reminded of how weak she’d been during that entire mess with Keith Freedman.
Was it fair to ask Qasim to wait around until she was ready to share? And what if she was never ready to share it? What a mess... And she was the one who had created it. If only she had kept quiet about her more-than-friends desires for Qasim.
Then, she never would’ve known she still had the ability to love someone. Discovering that had made it all so worth it. Even so, she needed to come clean with Qasim. Of course, she was terrified to bare her soul that way, but he deserved to know all there was. That, after all, was what it meant to love.
She dug her phone out from the back pocket of her jeans and sent her father a text to bestow quick blessings upon his oasis of choice. Then, she logged into the airline website to confirm details for her return flight to the States. First Miami and then back to San Francisco. She could only pray she’d use the time away to figure out what to say to Qasim when she saw him.
* * *
“Sim?” Minka rushed into the office, looking flustered and confused. “What’s going on? I just heard they cleaned out Will’s office and he was taken out by security.”
“Sit down, Mink.” Qasim waited for her to settle into one of the chairs in his office’s gaming area. “Why didn’t you come to me about this?”
Minka bowed her head and gave it a weary shake. “So that’s why you insisted I take the day off.” She smiled sadly and then looked up at him. “I didn’t think you’d believe me.”
“Minka—”
“No, Sim.” She stood. “I’ve heard all the stories about how you behaved when the oversight committee tried to tell you about Will before.” She tousled her hair while she paced the room.
“I’d already showed him up by suggesting we use Vectra’s place for the foundation event. Coming to you with more... I’d have looked pretty petty, wouldn’t you say? Besides, I didn’t have anything concrete until he left those invoices and I was able to use them for comparison.”
“I started keeping an eye on Will after the committee shared their suspicions.” Qasim lifted his heavy brows in a quick up-and-down move when Minka’s face betrayed her surprise.
“I know they had merit,” he went on. “I wanted him gone, too, and not just fired but behind bars and doing hard time.” Qasim commenced to stalking the opposite side of the room. “I didn’t want him working for another committee, organization, corporation—nothing. That’s why I kept on kept feeding that ego of his. I know you stalled on giving him that signing form.”
Again, Minka appeared stunned. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”
Qasim had the decency to appear sheepish. “My mind’s been on other things lately, and Will’s antics weren’t as important to me as they should’ve been.”
“I understand.” Minka smiled before glancing at the office door. “You think that’s the last we’ll see of him?”
“Doubtful.” Qasim massaged his neck behind the open collar of his shirt. “Given that he doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong.”
“So what now?”
“Now—” Qasim retrieved his suit coat from the back of a chair “—I’m taking the rest of the week off. Direct my calls—legal and otherwise—to Price.” He referred to Price Bonderson, Wilder’s director of legal affairs.
