Love California Box Set: Books 1-3 (Love California Series Collection)

by Jan Moran

  David clutched her sleeve. “Scarlett—”

  “Oh, get a spine, David.” She shook off his grasp. “I know who makes the decisions around here.”

  “No, you don’t—” Lucan blurted out, and then stopped himself.

  Scarlett’s mouth opened, but she was so struck by his comment she couldn’t speak. What did that mean?

  Lucan balanced his fingertips on his sleek glass desk and composed himself. “In your absence, the partners reconsidered your employment and determined your services were no longer necessary. As long as you were on vacation, it was thought best to make the cut so you wouldn’t have to return to the office.”

  Scarlett shook her head. “In my absence. Right. And how was I notified again?”

  Lucan cleared his throat. “By email.”

  “And you had my laptop.”

  “It also went to your phone. You had it at the Ritz.”

  Lucan said this with such certainty that she fought the urge to scream. How was he so sure? She hadn’t checked her phone the next morning because she was with Johnny, and her phone had died overnight. As she almost had. She narrowed her eyes, and measured her words. “You insipid jerk. You don’t fire people by email.”

  “No, you’re right. We shouldn’t have.” Lucan curled his lip in displeasure. “Because we need you to sign these final documents.”

  Scarlett scanned the paper; she didn’t like what she read. Lucan plucked his gold fountain pen from his jacket and offered it to her. It was a collector’s pen he used to ink important deals.

  Scarlett’s eyes fixated on the shiny black-and-red writing instrument, recalling what he’d once told her. Montegrappa. Invito a Rigoletto. A rare, collectible pen named for an Italian opera by Verdi. Not that Lucan even appreciated opera. He simply endured it to reel in business. Pretentious jerk. She snatched the pen, jabbed the 18-karat gold nib onto the paper, and ground it as hard as she could.

  “Scarlett!” Lucan’s face turned devil red.

  Furious, she ripped the documents in half and tossed them onto the floor. “You haven’t heard the last of me, Lucan Blackstone.”

  David yelled, “Scarlett, don’t do anything you might regret!”

  She whirled around and headed for the door.

  “Scarlett, drop that pen,” Lucan bellowed.

  “Oh, surely you jest.” She paused by the bar, dropped the harlequin patterned pen into the sink, and flicked the garbage disposal switch.

  The metallic grinding noise was deafening.

  Who needs a thirty thousand dollar pen anyway?

  Lucan exploded as Scarlett pushed through the door and waved to Hector. “Shall we?” she said sweetly, hitching up her briefcase. As she stormed from the office to her car, Hector hurried behind her.

  Driving home, her head pounded in agony. Fired. She couldn’t believe it.

  Fired.

  She wrapped a trembling hand around her sore neck and rubbed it as she drove. Thoughts swirled through her mind. Lucan, the Ritz, the laptop, Fleur, the stock fluctuations.

  Now, more than ever, Scarlett didn’t believe in coincidences.

  Johnny was at his post at the entry to the Polo Lounge checking lunch reservations when he saw Scarlett rushing toward him. Her lips were white with fury. “Scarlett, what happened?”

  “I was fired.” Her voice was trembling.

  He encircled her with his arms. “I’m so sorry, mi amor.” He nodded to his assistant. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Johnny cut through the kitchen, and guided Scarlett into Lance’s office. He knew Lance would be out, making lunch preparations with his crew.

  “Sit here,” he said, pulling out Lance’s chair for her. She looked like she was about to explode. He spied a box of tissues on the shelf and grabbed it for her. “I’ll get water for you.”

  He rushed through the kitchen, got a bottle of cold water, and ran a clean towel under the faucet. “Here’s a cool cloth for your forehead. Your face is beet red.”

  Scarlett took a slug of water and burst into tears. “Oh, Johnny, I’m so angry. They had the nerve to fire me by email. Can you imagine?”

  Johnny wrapped his arms around her and held her as she ranted against the company. She alternated between anger and hurt, and he ached for her.

  “Just let it out, mi amor.” He swept her hair back and feathered kisses on her cheek, wishing he could vanquish her pain.

  Becoming a partner in a law firm had been Scarlett’s dream ever since high school, when she participated in moot court, an exercise in oral advocacy. She lived to champion cases and help people.

  Scarlett dabbed her eyes. She told him about what she’d done to Lucan’s precious pen.

  Johnny chuckled. “What else happened, chica?”

  “Lucan said something strange.” She shook her head. “When I said I knew who made the decisions—meaning him—he contradicted me. He said ‘no, you don’t.’ The partners make decisions as a committee, but it was the way he said it. I think someone else is pulling Lucan’s strings.”

  “Any idea who?”

  Scarlett thought for a few moments. “I don’t know, but David looked scared to death. I think he’s involved in something way over his head. David’s a sweet guy.”

  “Careful, Scarlett. David is playing on Lucan’s team now.”

  Scarlett sniffled. “Lucan said they boxed up my personal effects and sent them to my home. A box must be sitting outside.”

  “I’ll have someone pick it up. You’re not going back there, Scarlett. Not after that episode at the Ritz. No such thing as a coincidence, remember? You’re staying with me.”

  She managed a half-smile through her tears. “You’re beginning to sound like me.”

  “That’s not so bad. You’re one smart cookie, Scarlett.” He kissed her forehead and hugged her. “But I smell a giant rat in this whole mess. Is there anyone you can talk to?”

  Scarlett nodded. “I need to see Zelda Robinson.” She blew her nose and dried her eyes.

  Johnny grinned. “Want to borrow my phone?”

  15

  “I’M NOT SURPRISED to see you again,” Zelda said. “Please sit down. It’s not that I'm a prognosticator, I've simply seen too many of these cases, unfortunately.”

  “And there’s more I have to report.” Scarlett eased into a tapestry wingback chair in front of Zelda’s antique desk and crossed her legs. She’d shed her conservative black corporate suit as soon as she’d returned to Johnny’s, opting for pencil thin black pants and a supple white jersey blouse, which was casual, yet stylish. After spending time in Spain with Johnny, her view of the world and her place in it was shifting.

  Scarlett went on to tell Zelda about returning to the office after vacation and discovering she’d been fired by email.

  Zelda brushed her short, sophisticated grey hair over her ear as she made notes. “Did they give you a reason or reasons for your termination?

  “No, only that the partners determined my services were no longer necessary,” Scarlett replied.

  “Did you sign anything upon your exit?”

  “They wanted me to sign a final document, but I refused. When I glanced at it, the point that caught my eye was that if I signed it, I would have resolved Marsh & Gold of all liability, and my future business activities would have been restricted for a period of five years.”

  “That’s hard to enforce in California, which is a right-to-work state. Many people move here to work for that reason. Did it include an offer of severance pay?”

  “No.”

  “Idiots.” Zelda made a note.

  Scarlett clasped her hands. “I’m afraid I destroyed some of the partner’s personal property before I left.”

  Zelda snapped her head up. “Such as?”

  “A fountain pen. Rather expensive.” Scarlett wasn’t proud of what she’d done, and it was certainly out of character for her. But neither was she accustomed to dodging snipers at luxury hotels. And she’d bet money Lucan had been behind
it.

  “What else?” Zelda adjusted her red reading glasses.

  Scarlett told her about the attack at the Ritz Hotel, and Zelda’s eyebrows shot up.

  “You could have been killed. As nefarious as they are, that’s not how they usually conclude employment agreements.” Zelda shook her head. “When did the trouble begin?”

  “When I began to represent Fleur of London to High Gloss Cosmetics.” Scarlett leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. She told her about the news clip Fleur had recorded, which was picked up on CNBC, and the news anchor’s comments. “When Fleur reneged on the deal with High Gloss, their stock plummeted. Then she announced a deal with Color Color, and their stock shot through the roof. Supposedly, the deal was done after she returned to London, but the tape had been prerecorded.”

  Zelda leaned back in her chair and tapped her manicured nails on the desk in thought. “How do you know?”

  “Fleur had a nasty lump and cut on her face when I picked her up. Everyone could see it. But there was no hint of an injury on the taped piece that CNBC aired. I had technical analysis done on it.”

  “Smart. You suspect insider trading?”

  “Absolutely. I’d bet fortunes were made on that deal.” Scarlett had had a lot of time in Spain to think about the turn of events. And I will not pass quietly into the shadows. She’d worked far too hard and paid her dues.

  “Did you tell anyone about this?”

  “David Baylor, my colleague at the firm. He and I were both up for partner, but he won it.”

  “Qualified?”

  “Not so much. Even he admitted that.”

  Zelda made another note. “Did you see him again?”

  “He was at my exit meeting.” She’d never seen David look so spooked. He knew more than he was letting on. “He’s definitely in on it. He’s worried about something.”

  Zelda took her glasses off. “We have more than enough to pursue a case. Wrongful termination is just the tip of the iceberg. Attempted murder, insider trading, and a few other juicy tidbits, I’m sure. Should we go forward, you’ll begin by producing documents and giving a deposition. I can represent you on the wrongful termination, sexual harassment, and promotion pass-over issues.”

  “I’d like to see Lucan Blackstone and his partners, if they’re involved, stopped.”

  “If there’s proof of insider trading—and by insider, I mean anyone who gives or trades stocks on information that undermines the level playing field required for the capital markets to function in a fair and equitable manner—then they could be looking at significant time behind bars. The Securities and Exchange Commission will be mighty interested in this.”

  “And the near miss in Spain?” Recalling that horrific night, Scarlett shuddered.

  “That depends on the Spanish authorities. But it sounds like there’s a lot of circumstantial evidence.”

  “A wise law professor once told me there are no such things as coincidences.”

  Zelda smiled. “Glad you were listening. That looks like the case here. Lucan made sure you stayed in the hotel after they left. He probably had David take your laptop, or paid a hotel employee to snatch it from your room. Your photo printout from the firm’s website, though tenuous, does add to the confluence of evidence. More details would probably surface if you kept digging. However, attempted murder on foreign soil adds a great deal of complexity to the case.”

  Scarlett sighed. As an attorney, she knew more about lengthy depositions, the tedious discovery process, and trial preparation than most people. This would disrupt her life, and become an emotional rollercoaster. But then, the partners at the firm had already disrupted her carefully planned life, hadn’t they?

  Zelda folded her hands on the desk. “What do you want, Scarlett?”

  Scarlett thought about the outcome she wanted to achieve. On a basic level, she wanted Lucan and his cohorts to pay for their transgressions. She wanted her safety and her life back. And she needed to earn an income to support herself and her mother.

  Scarlett lifted her chin. “Let’s bury the bastards.”

  Later that afternoon, Scarlett parked in back of Sunset Plaza on Sunset Boulevard and hurried up the back stairs at Le Petit Four, one of her favorite casual bistros. It was situated at the fork in Sunset Plaza, where part of the attraction was the people watching.

  Scarlett cut through the crowd queued up for a table. “Hi Verena, sorry I’m late. My meeting with Zelda Robinson ran over.”

  “No problem.” Verena greeted her with a kiss on each cheek. “They’re holding a table for us.” The hostess showed them to a table on the crowded sidewalk seating area.

  “This area reminds me a little of Madrid,” Scarlett said as she sat down. She pushed her sunglasses up on her head.

  “It’s very European. It reminds me of Paris,” Verena said. “How was your trip?”

  “Most of it was amazing.” Scarlett was glad to see Verena. So were other men at the café, who kept glancing at the svelte blonde in the ivory silk dress and matching buttery leather jacket. “Love your outfit, by the way. It’s really fabulous on you.”

  “Thanks, it’s from Fianna’s latest collection. I fell in love with it right away. The photographer thought it would be perfect for headshots for the new skincare line.”

  “I’m so proud of you, and how you came out of that disaster with Herringbone Capital. And how is Skinsense doing?”

  “The infomercial began running on television last week, and everyone looked gorgeous on camera. We’re doing a soft launch to work out the kinks, followed by a huge debut promotion next month. This first week, sales are exceeding projections by three hundred percent. And Penelope is really pitching in on the publicity. She’s such as sweetheart.”

  The server stopped by their table to share daily specials, and they placed their drink orders. Just then, a well-known Hollywood powerhouse couple walked by, with bags from Armani, Boss, and Ole Henriksen dangling from their toned arms. Unlike in Hollywood, the crowd around them was far too cool to show much notice.

  Verena went on. “Johnny told us about your scare at the Ritz Hotel. I’m so glad he was there, that must have been horrible.” Verena grimaced. “Do you think you’re safe here?”

  “That’s why I’m staying with Johnny,” Scarlett said. “He’s living in a large apartment above a four-car garage on a huge property that’s under renovation. There’s a security gate, and now that they’re delivering expensive building materials, there’s a security guard, too.” Scarlett picked up the menu. “The seared ahi tuna looks good. What are you having?”

  “The duck confit salad.” Verena lowered her menu and looked amused. “But don’t you dare change the subject. We’re just getting to the good part.”

  “What’s that?”

  Verena made a face. “You and Johnny, of course. Lance said he’s completely smitten. What about you?”

  Scarlett raked her teeth over her bottom lip and smiled. “I’ve known him most of my life, but I have to admit, he’s really changed, and for the better. We had a wonderful time in Spain.”

  “So Lance said.” Verena winked. “Is Johnny the one?”

  “It’s a little too early to tell.” Scarlett rested her chin in her hand. Should she trust her passion? She had in Spain, but once she’d returned to Los Angeles, her analytical side took charge again.

  “Come on, you just said you’ve known him forever.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem.”

  “Oh, I see. No mystery in the relationship?” A young actress waved at Verena from across the patio. She waved back. “One of my former salon clients. I’ll have to give her a new card before I leave. Now, where were we? Oh yes, mystery.”

  “Actually, there’s so much I didn’t know about him. Did you know he’s an expert horseman?” Scarlett thought about their race to the ridge, and remembered the look of joy on his face as he rode.

  Verena suppressed a smile. “Are you holding that against him?”

 
“No, what I mean is that the Johnny I once knew has undergone a metamorphosis. He’s no longer Johnny from the barrio.”

  “Any more than you’re Escarlata from the barrio.” Verena flagged the waiter and they ordered their food.

  Scarlett passed her menu to the server. “No, but I went to college and law school. There’s a difference. He might resent it later. Some men do.”

  Verena raised an eyebrow. “Well, lucky you. Like Johnny, I didn’t have the chance to continue my education. Don’t hold it against him.”

  “But you’re different, Verena. Your family is from Switzerland, and you ran a successful company.”

  “Which I learned from the ground up, just like Johnny is doing.” Verena crossed her arms. “Don’t be a snob, Scarlett. Johnny’s a good man. He’s ambitious, he’s smart, and he adores you.”

  “I’m not a snob,” Scarlett said, surprised that her friend would think that. She felt her cheeks color.

  An older woman with an impeccable complexion stopped by the table. “Why Verena, I thought that was you.” She was a former client of Verena’s.

  While they spoke, Scarlett thought about her friend’s words. She had to admit that Johnny’s apartment was bursting with books, from philosophy to business and everything in between. He was a voracious reader, and could speak intelligently on almost any topic. She’d witnessed that in Spain. Johnny had held his own with Teresa’s husband, Miguel, as they spoke about horses, wine, investments, and politics.

  Scarlett picked at a thread on her napkin. Not only did Johnny mix easily with people from all walks of life, he knew when—and how—to take charge of a situation. Even in his underwear, she acknowledged, recalling his cool head and hot boxer briefs at the Ritz Hotel.

  Verena said good-bye to the woman who’d stopped by the table and returned her attention to Scarlett. “Now, where was I? Oh yes, I believe I was calling you a snob, right?” She grinned.

  Scarlett took her sunglasses from atop her head and put them on the table. “Maybe I am guilty of that, and I apologize. There’s so much going on right now. I’m unemployed, and I’ve just decided to sue my old law firm.”