Page 23 of Devil's Contract


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It’s mine.

Rather, it looks like mine.

“I did not sign this!” I raise my voice, jumping to my feet and throwing the offending piece of paper back across the desk. “I would never sign a power of attorney allowing Tristan to control my assets, and you of all people should know that. We sat in this room, and I was abundantly clear that this little arrangement of ours was going to be mutually beneficial, yet we each maintained control of our own properties.”

“Of course, which is why I called and spoke to you about the change just over six months ago. Surely you are not going to try to deny speaking to me over the phone when you were in Paris just before Christmas?”

“What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t spoken to you since the last time I was in this office, and I haven’t been to Paris in over a year. If you spoke to someone, it sure as hell wasn’t me and this is not my signature.”

It’s unclear which one of us is more shaken by the realization that Tristan had been lying to both of us.

I slide back into the chair because my legs feel wobbly.

Terror strikes as a horrible thought crosses my mind. If he messed with my property in Paris, what else had he tried to sell?

“The Whitney…” My voice quavers as I can only get out the two words. I’m terrified of what Mr. Stryker’s next words might be.

“You are still the owner of The Whitney.”

I let the breath I’m holding escape with relief.

“But…”

“But, what?” I press.

“The Whitney was used for collateral in several high-risk loans Mr. Miller took to secure funds for the East End Lofts project. Unfortunately, when the initial units did not pass city inspections, Mr. Miller was forced to secure additional financing to bring the project up to code.”

My mind races. I knew little about the Lofts project. Just little tidbits Tristan had shared over dinner here and there.

“This is ridiculous. That is not my signature and therefore not one penny of my assets can be legally at risk in Tristan’s bullshit dealings. Now, what are you going to do to straighten this all out?” I throw this problem back in his lap, and when he fails to answer, I ask, “Which bank do we need to inform that there has been a grave error in the loan paperwork?”

Where his face was pale before, William Stryker’s face turns beet red as he struggles to look me in the eyes.

“I’m afraid Mr. Miller had exhausted all avenues of credit with his bankers. The recent loans were secured from a private financing company known to make higher risk loans at much higher interest rates. As you might expect, they also come with aggressive payback schedules and steeper penalties for missed payments. In fact, there is a payment of $150,000 due next week.”

“Well, isn’t that too bad. His estate is in probate. They are just going to have to wait like everyone else while we sort all this out, now, aren’t they?”

“For many of Mr. Miller’s creditors, yes, you are correct. This high-risk loan, however, will require payments to stay current.”

“Bullshit. They don’t get to jump the probate line.”

“I’m afraid the loan in question is not part of Mr. Miller’s estate.”

“How can that be?”

“Because the high-risk loan is a mortgage against The Whitney.”

Chapter Nine

DEX

Two days is all it took.

I knew she’d be coming soon enough, but the fact that it’s only been two days shows the desperation she feels. Regardless of the fact that she enters the pub dressed in a sleek suit, black heels with just a peek of red on the soles, and her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, she’s scared and vulnerable. Yes, she exudes business and confidence, but I can also see her taking large, calming breaths to soothe her nerves and give her the strength she needs as she approaches me.

“You’ve been a busy girl, Katja,” I say before I take a sip of whiskey in my favorite booth in the back of the room. I lean back casually and motion for her to slide into the booth across from me. “I’ve heard you’ve been calling around, looking for me.”

“I’m not used to the slums. I don’t know all the hiding spots and apparently rats are hard to find,” she spits back, but quickly swallows her sour disposition and calmly sits down.

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