I Married a Billionaire: Lost and Found (Contemporary Romance) (6 page)

I don't know how long we stood there, but by the time we broke apart, the sunrise was cutting sharply through the window above the sink. I squinted against it, turning away and walking back up to the bedroom with no clear idea of why I was going there. Maybe, if I just climbed back in bed and curled up under the covers, it would be like none of this ever happened.

Not likely.

***

It felt like an eternity before the judge's offices opened and Daniel was able to start putting in phone calls. Of course it was a labyrinthine process with voicemails and extensions and leaving messages with five different people, but eventually he did get a call back, which he took alone in the bedroom, with the door shut. I wasn't sure if he was trying to protect me from it, or if he just couldn't handle the added stress of being around another person. Either way, I wasn't really offended. I couldn't imagine what he must be going through, although it was no walk in the park for me, either.
 

I managed to eat some leftover pot roast by the time lunch rolled around, but Daniel was still subsisting off of juice and water until dinnertime, when he ate a few handfuls of almonds from the cupboard and then went back to call his broker again.

When he finally talked to me, I learned that his broker had located the trade in his transaction history, but could not account for it. The firm's security specialists were already working on it, but they apparently didn't have high hopes of finding any answers soon. Whoever had originated the trade had successfully covered his tracks - well enough that they had to launch something that they called a "forensics" investigation. I had absolutely no idea what that meant in this context, but I suspected it didn’t actually involve the scalpels and bone saws that I was picturing.

He'd also put in several calls with the owner of the company whose stock he'd allegedly sold. The whole thing had to do with a merger or an acquisition or something that he explained in such a scattered way I gave up trying to understand - but he insisted that he knew nothing about it, that in fact he could present cell phone records to the judge showing he'd had no contact with the man in weeks.
 

The company owner in question was in the middle of his once-yearly vacation in which he went completely offline. His very capable assistant who managed his affairs
in absentia
could shed absolutely no light on the situation, but she promised to send word to her boss's emergency contact number and he'd get back to Daniel as soon as he possibly could.
 

By the end of our conversation, my head was spinning and I felt like I understood even less than I had before. Hell - I was married to the man, but even I couldn't see how he was going to convince a judge of his innocence. How could he prove that he and his friend had no contact? They might have talked on pay phones, or burners, or…

I shook my head, as if I could physically knock the thoughts out that way. It was ridiculous that I was even considering the possibility of Daniel's guilt. But I was just trying to be realistic. How would the courts see it? They certainly wouldn't be sympathetic towards a man like him. Then again, with his money, he could hire one of those lawyers that everyone hates.

Then again, he didn’t actually have any of his money just at the moment.

Daniel finally called Lindsey in the late afternoon, and after she'd finished berating him for not calling her immediately, she got a ticket on the next plane out. I felt a tremendous sense of relief knowing she'd be here. I didn't get to spend as much time with my sister in law as I would have liked to, but everything I knew of her indicated that she wasn't easily shaken. She was the perfect person to have around in a crisis. And maybe, just maybe, she'd have more of an idea of how to comfort Daniel than I did.
 

I went with him to the airport to pick her up. I was surprised that she didn't just hire a town car or something, but maybe Daniel was just anxious to see her. If he was, he certainly wasn't telling me about it. In fact, I wasn't one hundred percent sure that he realized I was in the car until he turned and spoke to me.

"I know the head of the security here. I think they'll let us through so we can meet her at the gate."

"Uh…" I glanced at him, sidelong. "You sure about that? I really feel like we don't need trouble with the TSA on top of everything."

He didn't say anything, but thankfully, Lindsey was waiting for us by the passenger pickup area so the issue never arose.

She went to Daniel wordlessly, her face drawn and tight, and pulled him into a long hug. Neither one of them moved for almost a full minute. When Daniel finally pulled away, I searched his face for something. Anything. But his expression was still stony.

I picked up Lindsey's bag and started hauling it towards the trunk, which finally got Daniel's attention.

"Wait," he said, reaching out. "I'll get it."

"Already did," I muttered, slamming the trunk shut. He guided Lindsey towards the passenger seat without saying a word, and I folded myself into the backseat and kept quiet for the ride home.

"I can't believe it," Lindsey kept saying, over and over again. "Those bastards." She asked the same questions over and over, the questions to which there were no answers, but Daniel answered them patiently, which so much as a "like I just told you…" I told myself it was completely normal, completely understandable, for him to feel more comfortable around his sister than he did around me. They'd grown up together, and we…

We were still basically strangers.

No, that was ridiculous. We'd been living together for more than two years, and even if he hadn't truly been in a relationship for all that time, we'd gotten to know each other. Hadn't we?
 

I stared at the ceiling, wondering if he thought the same thing. Did he look at me sometimes and wonder who I really was?

No, he must have better things to do.

When we got home, Lindsey installed herself in the kitchen and immediately began cooking spaghetti and meatballs. I understood the impulse, and after a while, I went into the kitchen to help her. It was warm and permeated with the smell of garlic, and for a moment I almost forgot that everything was falling apart around us.

"He's not going to eat, you know," I said, finally, as I finished chopping an onion.

Lindsey twisted a handful of leaves off one of the basil plants in the window planter. "I bet you he will," she said.

I should have known she'd take it as a challenge.

And she was right, after all. By the time the smell had permeated the whole apartment, Daniel came wandering down the stairs, looking like death warmed over. His hair was sticking up in all directions and he had the darkest circles under his eyes I'd ever seen. He hovered behind us for a while, like a ghost, until he finally spoke up.

"When will dinner be ready?"

"Anytime, kiddo," said Lindsey, pulling a bowl out of the cabinet. She started dishing out a generous helping, and I almost told her to stop - Daniel always measured his pasta before he ate it - but then I realized this was hardly a day to be sticking to a diet. He sat down and devoured the whole thing, so quickly that I almost didn't believe what I was seeing. Daniel Thorne, eating pasta and meatballs made with eighty percent ground beef? And not a food scale in sight?

I had a much smaller serving, which I poked at tentatively. My stomach felt like a clenched fist. Daniel wasn't speaking to me, still - barely looking at me, and I felt guilty that I was even noticing at a time like this. He had enough to worry about without constantly stroking my ego, didn't he? But all I wanted was some tiny acknowledgement. I just wanted him to act like he remembered I was there.

After dinner, I ended up in my studio. I just wanted to be alone for a while, and my absence didn’t seem to bother Daniel.

I picked up a pencil and studied it. I'd never had much luck drawing while I was stressed, but I had to do something to occupy my time. I stared at the paper on the easel for a while, finally lifting the pencil and making two long, sweeping, slightly curved lines across it. This was exactly how I always started every drawing when I was a kid. Two hills, and off to one side - a tree.

I had to smile, in spite of myself.

I started drawing a weeping willow, its trunk gnarled and twisted with knots. There was one down by the creek where I grew up, and if I concentrated hard enough I could remember the exact feeling of the leaves brushing against my skin when I sat underneath it.
 

There was a light tap at the door.

My heart actually leapt into my throat, which was, quite frankly, embarrassing.

"Yeah?" I called out, my hand frozen in midair.

"Maddy, can I come in?"

It was Lindsey.

I let out a long breath. "Yeah, of course."

She came in and shut the door quietly behind her, walking in and sitting gingerly in the armchair by the window.
 

"So," she said. "How you holding up?"

I shrugged, staring at my drawing. It was actually pretty good. The landscape needed a lot more detail, but…

"It's good that you're drawing," she said, making a vague gesture towards the easel. I nodded, still only looking at her from the corner of my eye.

"I know it seems bad now," she continued, crossing and uncrossing her legs. "But everything will get straightened out. The trick is to not let yourself get overwhelmed. Take it one day at a time. Don't think too far into the future - let someone else handle that for you. Danny's been talking to his attorney."

I made a face.

"Don't worry," Lindsey said. "I've met this one - I recommended her, actually. The thing about Daniel is that he…" she considered her words for a moment. "…he doesn't exactly have, uh, the gift of discernment. Especially when it comes to people's characters. I know it probably doesn't seem like it, most of the time, but he trusts too easily."

"I guess I could see that," I replied, adding a few more branches to my tree. He had, after all, trusted me with a marriage of convenience when he hardly knew me at all.

For a while, Lindsey was quiet. When I finally met her eyes, I could tell she wanted very badly to say something, but she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. It wasn't like her to hold back. Whatever it was, she must have an awfully good reason for not wanting to say it.

And for once in my life, I was content to let sleeping dogs lie.

***

Daniel's lawyer was a brusque middle-aged woman with short brown hair and - I imagined - an equally short temper. Her mouth was set in a permanent frown. I didn't think I could stand to work with someone like that, but Daniel seemed to appreciate her businesslike attitude.
 

I'd met her briefly a handful of times, but this was the first time she'd been to the apartment. Daniel had consulted with her already, a few days after the phone call, but it was going on a week now and brokerage had made next to no progress on their "forensics." They’d apparently decided to proceed with the case as if that evidence might never surface. On the plus side, several of Daniel’s original key investors agreed to pour some more money into the company, enough to keep manufacturing going and prevent it from going into the red while this whole mess got sorted out.

The lawyer, Ms. Greenlee, stayed for quite a while, going over paperwork with Daniel and reviewing his options for going forward. She was recommending that he petition the judge to have his assets un-frozen, as a first order of business. Despite the fact that it had been enacted very swiftly, she informed us that it might take several weeks for a reversal to process, so it was best to start it sooner rather than later.
 

"We need to establish that you're not a flight risk," she said, sipping at a glass of water, eyeing Daniel from over her half-moon reading glasses. "That means you need to look calm at the hearing. You need to be assured of your own innocence and you need to meet his eyes and answer all his questions honestly. Are you prepared to do that?"

"Yes," he said, actually looking slightly cowed. Come to think of it, I could actually appreciate this lawyer quite a bit.

"It's very, very important that you keep your story straight," she said. "I know - you didn't do it - but that doesn't mean the facts won't change in your memory from time to time, and that will look like dishonesty to him. Establish the facts and stick to them, don't let yourself waver."

Daniel was nodding, scribbling in his little notepad.
 

The lawyer shuffled her papers a bit. "With someone of your means, there's always that concern. That you'll just head off somewhere and disappear. Now, luckily, you've got one thing going for you - despite your dual citizenship, Canada would still extradite you at the drop of a hat, so you've got no shelter there, and they know that."

Daniel nodded again. "Is there anything else I can do to make myself seem more stable?"

"Well, the rest is pretty common sense - don't book any plane tickets or boat charters or anything like that."

"That might be difficult anyway, without any credit cards."

She didn't miss a beat. "Remember that you're in the public eye now. Even if you go to a store and pay cash, you might be spotted. Don't buy any luggage, don't apply to renew your passport - nothing."

"Would I use my own passport if I were trying to flee the country?" he looked up at her, still scribbling in his notepad.

"I wouldn't know," she said, dryly.
 

She left him with mounds of paperwork, and he sequestered himself in the bedroom again, making phone call after phone call. I could hear him talking - dimly, through the door - but I couldn't distinguish any words. Lindsey had to teleconference into a meeting for most of the day, so I found myself alone for the better part of it. I spent a while in my studio, staring at my new sketch, and trying to figure out how to make something of it. It was a nice enough landscape, but it was missing something.

After fiddling with it for a while and remaining unsatisfied, I finally wandered out to the kitchen, yawning. When I saw the clock on the microwave, I had to look twice. Was it really past midnight already? No wonder I was tired.