Smack!
His head reeled back with the slap, his skin stinging from where her fingers had whipped across his cheek. He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth, the tang of blood where his cheek had been cut against his teeth fuelling his anger.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope from the diagnostic lab, shoving it toward her. Her hands reached out instinctively to take it from him.
“What’s this?”
“The proof you thought you wanted.”
“What do you mean ‘thought I wanted’?”
“Brody is my son.”
Even though she had known the truth, her knees buckled and she reached for the balustrade for support. “I knew it.”
“Then you might have considered that before you jumped between the sheets with Evan Davies.”
“But I didn’t!”
“Let’s leave that for the lawyers to decide.”
Her face drained of colour. “Lawyers?”
“I’m suing for full custody of my boy. You’re unfit to be his mother.”
“You’re going to try to take him from me?”
Mason leaned so close he could smell the lingering scent of vanilla and cinnamon soap on her skin. “Make no mistake, Helena. Try doesn’t even enter into it. I will win, and I’m sure Evan will make a convincing witness.”
“I did not sleep with Evan!”
“Having had firsthand experience of your appetite, I suppose ‘sleep’ is a relative term under the circumstances. Oh, and by the way, my auditors have almost completed their investigation. You have some explaining to do. Get dressed.”
Helena heard the words but they didn’t make any sense. Mason was going to take Brody from her. He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d taken a knife to her body. She remained frozen where she stood as the reality of his claim started to sink in.
Evan had turned up at her house late last night, boastful about his new car and definitely the worse for wear after a meal that had obviously been more liquid than solid. As much as he had revolted her with his behaviour, her conscience wouldn’t let him drive home. He would be dangerous behind the wheel of any car let alone the overpowered European import he’d indulged in. She’d suggested a taxi, but instead he’d staggered upstairs and he’d fallen asleep in the first bedroom he’d come across. Unfortunately, that bedroom had been hers. She had left him where he’d lain and locked herself in the guest room at the end of the hall. The one she’d shared with Mason.
She’d barely slept, always keeping a wary ear out for his unwelcome attention and plagued by memories of the night she’d last spent in the room. Eventually, though, she must have fallen asleep, waking groggy when she’d heard Evan up and about.
“Come on, I haven’t got all day, Helena.”
Mason took her by the arm and led her back up the stairs and to her bedroom. At the door he hesitated and suddenly she knew why. Strewn all over the floor were Evan’s clothes. The bedcovers and sheets were tangled over the mattress, one pillow on the floor. A cold uncomfortable chill crept down her back as she felt him stiffen at her side.
“I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
His voice was arctic. A sense of impending disaster wrapped around her heart and squeezed tight.
“I need to dry my hair so I’ll be a few minutes.”
“Don’t fuss on my account. Your charms are wasted on me.”
With that he turned and she heard his footfalls as he thundered down the stairs and the front door opened and closed again. Helena flexed her hand, her fingers still smarting from the slap she’d dealt him. She couldn’t believe she’d lost control like that, that she’d actually struck him. With the way things were going, no doubt he’d be charging her with assault as well. She looked again at the paper Mason had pushed at her. The proof she’d wanted so desperately so he would help to get Davies Freight back up on its feet again.
It all came down to the old saying, “be careful what you wish for” in the end. Now she had what she needed—what she’d hoped for to ensure that Brody would never want the way she had, would never have to settle for second best or waylay his dreams for lack of money—she ran the very real risk of losing her son. Fear was an ugly, insidious sensation, she decided as she unwound the damp towel from her hair and reached for the blow-dryer. A very ugly sensation indeed.
Despite Mason’s insistence that she not take any bother over her appearance, Helena needed the armour that a formal business suit and full makeup gave her. By the time she made it down the stairs and to the front door she could almost fool herself into believing it would be just another day at the office. Almost.
Mason sat in his Porsche—she could see his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. As she locked the front door behind her and approached the car he leaned across and pushed open the passenger door.
“I was on the verge of coming to get you. Dressed or not.”
“It’s a good thing I’m ready then, isn’t it.” She took her time settling herself in the seat and putting on her seat belt. “So what is it the auditors have found?”
“I’m not discussing that with you without witnesses to record the meeting. You’ll have to wait.”
Helena’s brow furrowed.
Mason flung her a dark look. “Worried? You should be. I told you I’d get to the bottom of this. You should have learned to hide your tracks a little better.”
It was pointless arguing with him. She’d learned that now. No matter how hard she pleaded her innocence, no matter what she said, he wouldn’t believe her. She stared blindly forward, oblivious to the familiar scenery as it whipped by on the journey to Davies Freight.
Why had it come to this, she wondered. Why had it come to the point where she would lose everything she’d worked so hard for? A gaping hollow hole opened in her chest, the ache going straight through her heart.
Brody. How on earth would she be able to fight Mason in court? He had the means, the influence and the support to do whatever it took to win. To take her son from her.
The prospect of saving Davies Freight came a very poor second to the thought that she’d lose Brody.
“We’re here.” Mason’s clipped words penetrated the fog of worry that clouded her mind.
“Fine. I’ll be as glad to get to the bottom of this as you are.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.”
His words hung like an ominous knell in the air as they walked across the car park and into the building. At reception Mandy looked startled as Helena came through the door.
“Mrs. Davies. Good to have you back. Are you feeling better now?”
“Fine, thank you.” Helena shot a questioning look at Mason as they made their way up the stairs to the next floor. “What was that about?”
“I thought it better under the circumstances if they didn’t know you were being investigated. You never know where misplaced loyalties might lie that could jeopardise the investigation.”
“My staff are loyal to me because I’m a good employer. Not for any other reason.”
Mason didn’t respond, instead leading the way to her office. He held the door open for her, gesturing that she should precede him into the room.
A comforting sense of familiarity swept over her as she entered. The pictures on the wall, the bookcase, her desk. All of it reflected her personality. Her framed degree hung on the wall opposite her desk so she could see it and remind herself daily of how far she’d come. Of what she’d achieved. All her life, all she’d wanted was to be able to say she’d made it. Now, it looked like she was going to lose it, too.
She put her bag down and sat in the chair behind her desk, silently staking her claim. She clasped her hands together in front of her, squeezing her fingers tight to hide the trembling that threatened to give away her anxiety. If Mason saw even one sign of weakness she had no doubt he’d be in for the kill and she’d be out of here before she could so much as say the words balance sheet.
A knock sounded at the d
oor and a tall willowy blonde walked in, a bunch of reports in her arms, and a smile on her face as wide as the Auckland Harbour Bridge when she saw Mason standing there.
“Mason.” She acknowledged his presence with a warmth in her voice that went way beyond professional acquaintance.
Helena fought to quell the swell of envy that rose from deep inside her when Mason turned and smiled welcomingly at the newcomer.
“Ah, Sherie, all ready?”
“Yes, I think you’ll be surprised at the results.” The blonde flung a look in Helena’s direction. “Mrs. Davies, I’m Sherie Watson. Mason contracted my firm to conduct the audit on Davies Freight. I can see why you were all concerned, I just don’t know if we’re going to be able to act soon enough to bolster things back up.”
A young man arrived at the door with another stack of files. Sherie cleared a space on the desk for his armload of information.
“This is Alex, my assistant.”
Mason took a step forward and put his hand on Sherie’s sleeve. To Helena’s annoyance the cool blonde blushed at the contact.
“Is there anything else you need before we commence?” He phrased his question with the type of smile Helena would have walked over hot coals to receive from him.
“No, thanks. We’re all ready.” Sherie smiled back.
Over the next two hours, Sherie and Alex systematically went through their report and Helena had to brokenly admit to herself that the facts were damning. Within a very short period of time after she’d started working at Davies Freight, sums of money had been filtered through an account—false invoices were being paid. The sums had been small at first, probably so as not to raise any flags with the accountant at Flannigans, who finalised their year-end accounting after the data was initially collated at Davies Freight. But over the past three years the sums had incrementally increased until the company had virtually been haemorrhaging money into one account.
“So it’s simple then, track down whose account the money is going to and we have our culprit.” Helena pushed her chair back from the desk and rotated her shoulders to work out the kinks she’d gained while poring over the reports.
“We, umm…” Sherie shot a wary glance in Mason’s direction. At his nod, she continued. “We believe we know what account the funds have been filtered into.”
“So, you know who it is. What are you waiting for? Why haven’t you called the police?”
“It’s a bit more difficult than that.” Mason spoke up from where he’d been leaning against the wall, arms crossed and watching Helena. His scrutiny had made her uncomfortable at first, but once she’d started looking through the reports and listening to Sherie and Alex, he’d faded into the background.
“I don’t see what the problem is.”
“Would you like us to leave the room?” Alex offered.
“No. I want two impartial witnesses to what I have to say.”
“Impartial?” Helena snorted. “They’re hardly impartial when they’re in your employment.”
“Actually, they’re not in my employment. They’re independent of Black Knight Transport.”
Helena settled back in her chair. Whether they were independent of BKT or not, Sherie was certainly not impartial when it came to Mason Knight. Well, she was welcome to him.
“So?” Helena lifted her chin and looked Mason square in the eye. “Who’s the thief? Whose account has the money been going into?”
Mason stood up and removed a sheet of paper from his breast pocket. He carefully unfolded it before putting it down on the desk in front of Helena.
“Do you remember this?”
Helena picked up the sheet and examined it. All she could see were rows of figures, none of which seemed to make a great deal of sense. “It’s a piece of paper. Why should I remember this one in particular?”
“Perhaps because you’d hidden it behind the photo you were so keen to remove from the office when you were suspended from your duties.”
“Hidden it? Don’t be ridiculous. The first time I saw that was when you picked it up out of the broken glass.”
“I could almost believe you, if not for one thing. Helena, the account the money has been going into is yours.”
Nine
Mason watched through narrowed eyes as every last vestige of colour drained from Helena’s face. Her green eyes grew huge, the pupils dilated. A fine bead of perspiration raised on her upper lip. From his point of view she couldn’t look more guilty if she tried.
“Nothing to say?” he prompted.
“I didn’t do it. I don’t know where the money’s gone but I certainly didn’t put it in any bank account in my name.” Her hand fluttered up to her throat as her words choked in a voice thick with tears. “Please, Mason. You have to believe me. I didn’t do it.”
“I’d hoped you’d be reasonable about this, Helena. That you’d have the guts to come out and admit it when faced with the truth. It seems I was wrong.”
He picked up the sheet of paper and folded it carefully before putting it back in his pocket. He turned to Sherie and Alex, both of whom looked uncomfortable at the scene that had unfolded before them.
“Thank you. I think we have everything we need.”
“Sure. We’ll send through the finalised report once the computer forensics people get back to us in writing—I’ve been told their information will confirm everything here. Should be sometime tomorrow.” Sherie put out her hand to shake his.
When they’d gone, Mason dropped into the chair opposite Helena’s desk. She hadn’t said a word since her tearful plea, but had remained frozen in her chair.
“I don’t want to have to take this to the police, Helena. If you return the money to Davies Freight and formally resign from your position, I’m prepared to leave it there.” He lifted a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed wearily at the tension there.
“No.”
“I don’t think I heard you right.” Mason leaned forward. Surely she didn’t mean to still deny it. She’d been shown the proof.
“I am not going to take responsibility for something I didn’t do.”
“You have to admit the evidence is fairly damning.”
“Yes, it is, but even evidence can be fabricated. Which computers have you had analysed aside from mine?”
“We did your home computer and the one from the office here.”
“You didn’t have Evan’s computer examined?”
“No need. It wasn’t him.”
“What makes you so sure? Why are you so prepared to believe that he’s not responsible for this?”
“Because, while Evan is money-hungry, he has neither the finesse nor the patience to carry something like this off for so long. If it had been him, he would have simply skimmed off several large sums and gone shopping.” There had been some misdealings by Evan—overspending on expense accounts, exorbitant lunches and hotel bills purportedly for company business, but that’s as far as it went. Mason could stomach those losses, sure in the knowledge that Evan had no chance to do any further damage to Davies Freight. Helena’s activities, however, were another thing entirely.
“Then it was someone else. Someone who had access to my password.”
Mason expected to feel anger at her repeated protestations of innocence, but instead, he was devoid of anything but relief it was nearly over. “I’m only glad Patrick didn’t live long enough to discover what you were up to. It would have broken his heart to know what you’re really like.”
“What I’m really like? He knew exactly what I’m really like, which is more than I can say for you and your crazy accusations.”
Helena’s mind spun in dizzy circles. Faced with the same evidence, she knew she would have come to the same conclusion. It was devastating to realise she had so little to go on—so little with which to prove her innocence. Bit by bit, everything she had worked so hard for during her married life was sliding through her fingers. Her security, her identity—even her very own son. And for what?
Mason remained silent after her last outburst, choosing to cross his arms and observe her from across the desk. His very reticence gave her hope. He wasn’t immune to her; she knew that with the intimacy of a lover. But would he listen—would he give her the benefit of the doubt? The answer was a resounding no. It was time to change tactics.
“It might surprise you, Mason, but I actually agree with you about Patrick.”
He uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his charcoal-grey suit. His body language implied he was open to discussion but the frigid expression on his face told her differently. “Really? You’re right, I am surprised. Why start now, Helena? Running scared?”
“Scared? Not me.” She shook her head gently. “No. I agree with you in being glad that Patrick didn’t live long enough to see this—to see you behaving like this. He loved you like a son, Mason. Like his very own son. And now you’re undermining everything he stood for.”
“You’re being melodramatic.”
“Do you think so? I don’t. You forget. You may have known Patrick for, what, fifteen years, max? I lived with, and loved, the man for twelve years, twenty-four-seven.”
“And were paid handsomely for the job from what I can tell.” The curl of his lip was enough to make her want to strike out at him, but she would never succumb to such emotional weakness in his presence again.
“If you think repaying Patrick’s devotion to me by loving him unreservedly is something to be ashamed of then I’m sorry, but you have another thing coming. You have no right to denigrate our love for one another, or our marriage.” She pushed herself upright, trying to meet him eye-to-eye. “You can do your damned best to try and discover what has gone wrong here at Davies Freight. You can crunch numbers, you can interview staff, you can lay your unfounded accusations. But you can never take from me the life and the love I shared with Patrick.” She paused for a moment, locking eyes with him before continuing, “And maybe that’s the problem.”
The Tycoon's Hidden Heir Page 11