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He smiles at me. Tips his head, even.
Oh, this guy’s a player and I know exactly what this means. He’s giving me an opening to go talk to him. My mind races with potential things to say. Funny anecdotes. Witty self-depreciating comments. I could even admit the truth: I want him to do wicked things to my body right here.
Right now.
In the four seconds I stand gaping, a million possibilities of how to approach him and what to say run through my mind.
In the end, I do nothing because fear takes over.
As does my flight instinct.
Instead of hitting the ladies room, I hustle myself right out the door, leaving the gorgeous man and Pax behind.
Chapter four
Joar
Earlier the Same Day
I’m seething.
Harrison Finklestein is, quite possibly, the stupidest shithead I’ve ever come across. My team has spent the past few weeks auditing each and every client file at Eminence Partners and reconciling all financial records. The business is salvageable. Under my corporate umbrella, it will bring hundreds of millions of dollars of revenue into my portfolio.
This won’t happen overnight, unfortunately. It will take months to turn the business around completely. We need to rebuild faith in the company. Shift things away from the Harrison era. To think so many celebrity elite entrusted their life savings with the fuckwad…Jesus. It blows my mind. The man skimmed money from his clients’ accounts and no one seemed to notice.
He scammed every last one of them, the poor, trusting idiots.
Clover Callahan, on the other hand, is smart. Although there is nothing overtly tying her to his operations, my gut tells me there’s no way she and her ex-husband weren’t in cahoots. And, I trust my gut. Implicitly. It’s gotten me to where I am today.
My theory is Harrison and Clover devised the poker games as a way to distract authorities from delving further into his financial management business. When Kircher was exposed by Ronni Miller, their quickie divorce allowed them to put millions of dollars of property obtained from his client’s stolen assets into Clover’s name.
Before Finklestein’s involvement was revealed months later.
He’s under investigation for his participation but, even if he’s indicted and then convicted, it’s just the tip of the iceberg. No one but my team knows the extent of his illegal activities. Evidence we’ve uncovered will put Finklestein away for life.
Meanwhile, I believe Ms. Callahan is sitting on—conservatively—twenty million dollars in assets. Real Estate. Jewelry. Designer clothes. Cash. Not nearly enough to pay back all of the money her husband took, but it’s a start.
If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a thief. As far as I’m concerned, she’s as guilty as her ex-husband. This situation is personal to me. One way or the other, I’m going to make the people Finkelstein scammed whole again. His ex-wife is just one part of my plan. Make no mistake, I want that money back and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.
I gaze out at the sparkling waters of Coal Harbor from my suite at the Fairmont Pan Pacific. My entire afternoon has been spent buried in the documents Zed, my private investigator, compiled about Clover’s background and current situation. Honestly, there’s not much to go on. She’s been doing mostly charity work and attending events with Finklestein since the wedding.
My phone buzzes. It’s Zed. “Yeah?”
“Thought I’d let you know, she’s a couple blocks away from you at a restaurant called The Cactus Club. Having drinks with Ronni Miller’s PA.” His voice is gruff and unemotional. He’s a “just the facts” kind of guy, which I appreciate.
“Interesting,” I say, spotting the restaurant from my vantage point at the window. “Stick close. I’ll be there in a few minutes. It’s time for me to observe her in person myself.”
I’m still wearing a ten-thousand-dollar suit, so I hastily change into a simple white T-shirt and jeans. I don’t want to draw attention to myself today and I certainly don’t want Clover to notice as I watch her from afar.
Within fifteen minutes I’m seated at a corner table near the bar where I have the perfect, covert vantage point to observe Clover sip some sort of fruity frozen drink and chat with the PA-guy who’s gazing at her adoringly.
God damn.
I did not expect this.
Clover is transcendent. Pictures could never do this woman justice. She faces away from me but is positioned at an angle where I have an excellent view. She wears a black V-neck sweater tucked into tight pink pants that hug her round, juicy ass. Her long, black hair gleams like glass. Graceful fingers tipped with long, white nails gesture wildly. The PA dude says something which causes her to laugh heartily.
A lyrical, musical thoroughly delightful sound.
