The slick leather of her purse slid along the desk as she searched, sending a manila folder flying to the floor. Layla rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Why couldn’t one thing go right today?
She dropped to the floor with a sigh. There must be at least a hundred pages, now scattered under the desk.
“Isn’t this ladylike?” she grumbled as she crouched forward, reaching for the pages. She slid them toward her and gathered them in a stack. Hopefully Mr. Davenport hadn’t had them in any specific order. She’d have to apologize when he arrived.
A familiar name caught her attention, and her hand stilled on the page. Cypress Grove. She pulled the paper closer, heart thudding in her chest.
An itemized list of all the faulty ledger items at Cypress Grove. Layla scanned it, blood rushing through her ears. The ice sculptures. The painted logo. The list went back at least six months, covering everything from when Stacia worked at the mansion.
Layla set the paper aside and slowly picked up another one. She immediately recognized the last four digits of the offshore bank account the money had been transferred into. She set that paper aside and picked up another one. A grainy photo of her father stared back at her.
She placed a hand on her heart and gasped. Daddy sat at a poker table, a stack of chips in front of him. The shot was wide and high, as though taken from a security camera, but she’d recognize that strong nose and receding hairline anywhere.
Daddy was gambling again.
Layla grabbed for another paper, this one a receipt. The logo for Carlton Davis’s new casino was at the top. Layla gasped again when she saw Daddy’s name next to the total.
A door shut behind her. “Dad should be here in a few minutes. He got held up at the dealership on ninth street. Layla?”
She rose on shaky legs and handed the stack of papers to Grant. “Did you know about this?”
He flipped through the pages, his face growing noticeably pale as he took in the evidence. Layla chewed on a nail, feeling like she might lose the contents of her stomach again at any moment.
“I don’t want to believe this is true,” he muttered.
“Me either,” Layla said. “But I think my dad is embezzling money from Cypress Grove, and I think your dad is blackmailing him for it.”
“Why would he do that?” Grant set the folder on the desk with shaky hands and sank into a chair.
Layla’s legs collapsed, and she sat down as well. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
He grabbed the papers again, leafing through them. “How did he get all this information?”
Layla brushed back her bangs with a trembling hand. She wanted Tyler, needed his strong arms around her. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe he bought it from an employee?”
She shook her head, holding a trembling hand to her mouth. Now wasn’t the time to cry. “Maybe he hacked our computer network.”
“I doubt this information is kept somewhere easily accessible. Company networks are hard to hack.”
“I can’t believe my dad’s been doing this. He hasn’t gambled in years.” She couldn’t hold still. Layla stood, shaking her hands as though that would keep her from crumbling. “I knew he had problems when I was little, but I didn’t realize . . .”
Grant’s arm came around her in a gentle hug. “We’ll figure this out.”
Layla picked up another paper, reading through it. Bile rose in her throat. An email to Stacia, suggesting Mr. Davenport would be happy to purchase any information on Cypress Grove, should she choose to share it.
“He’s buying off employees,” Layla muttered, frantically flipping through the pages. She froze on another email, this one from Stacia.
I’ve found some information I trust you will find interesting, Stacia had written. No doubt Mr. Anderson will discover what I know soon. IT keeps asking me questions about the timestamps on my computer. I think he knows I’m suspicious. A zip file had been attached to the email. Layla had a feeling it had contained the information surrounding her on the floor.
“Stacia sent the info,” Layla breathed.
“The event coordinator you replaced?”
The knives of betrayal had Layla gasping for air. She frantically searched through the papers, looking for anything else. “She found out my dad was stealing money then sold the info to your father.”
“Here’s an email from my dad to yours,” Grant said. “It says if Mr. Anderson can’t convince you to date me, he’ll turn the information over to the police.”
Layla couldn’t read through her tears. She hung her head, the sobs begging for release.
Her entire life, destroyed in one afternoon.
“Layla?” Grant crouched on the floor in front of her, his eyes filled with concern.
All the heartache she’d caused Tyler. All the lies and time spent apart. What had it been for? Covering up her father’s lie.
She yanked at her engagement ring, struggling to pull it off. It slipped free, and she held it out to Grant with trembling fingers.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she gasped. “I can’t—”
“Shhh.” He dropped the ring on the desk and pulled her close, giving her a tight hug. “Of course I’m not holding you to the engagement. We’ll figure this out.”
“Figure what out?” a familiar voice asked from behind them.
Layla and Grant broke apart. Mr. Davenport stood in the doorway, surveying the scene. His eyes zeroed in on the open folder on his desk and the papers scattered about the floor.
“So, you’ve finally discovered your father’s little secret.” He walked into the room, and Layla fought the urge to run. “I must say, I’m a little surprised it took you so long. I have expected you to be in on it all along.”
Layla stood, forcing her voice to be strong. “You’re blackmailing my father.”
“And he’s embezzling from his company.” Mr. Davenport sank into a chair with a sneer. “I saw him at the casino one night about six months ago. He was sloppy drunk and begged me for ten grand so he could play another hand. Didn’t take much to get the whole story from him.”
Six months. How long had Daddy been gambling again?
Had he ever stopped?
Layla clenched her trembling fists. She wanted to jump on Charlie Davenport and rip his eyes out. “So you decided to force me to date your son?”
“It seemed a pretty fair trade. If I turn what I know over to the police, your father will be headed to jail in no time flat. His assets will be seized, and Cypress Grove will disappear. He’ll lose everything important to him just like that.” Mr. Davenport snapped his fingers together, and the crack made Layla flinch. “And so will you.”
“Dad!” Grant’s voice was filled with shocked horror.
Mr. Davenport turned to Grant, his eyes blazing with passion. “I’m doing this for you, son. For our family. Elizabeth is ruining everything.”
“Elizabeth is ruining my life, maybe, but it isn’t impacting Davenport Dealerships, no matter what you think. I’ve seen the sales reporting. Fluctuations are typical this time of year.”
Mr. Davenport slammed his hand on the desk. “She’s ruining your reputation! I haven’t worked for thirty years to have us accepted in this community so she can throw it down the drain.”
“Why did Stacia send you the information?” Layla broke in.
The delight on Mr. Davenport’s face made her positively nauseated. “Harvard isn’t cheap. Her son’s going to be a surgeon, thanks to me. She kept putting me off, but when your father fired her, she really had no choice.”
Layla took a step back and held up a shaking hand. “You’re sick.”
“You know blackmail’s illegal,” Grant said, his voice full of fury. “What’s having you arrested going to do to the family’s reputation? To Davenport Dealerships?”
“I’m not going to jail.” Mr. Davenport picked up a page and flung it to the floor. “Layla can’t turn me in without implicating her own father.”
“An
d you can’t turn in my father without implicating yourself,” Layla shot back.
“You are so naive. Haven’t you ever heard of an anonymous tip? By the time the police think to question me, all this information will be long gone. It’ll be your word against mine, and I’ve spent a lifetime building my reputation in this community.”
“You’re insane,” Layla whispered, almost to herself. “Certifiable.”
Grant placed a hand at Layla’s back. “Let me drive you home,” he whispered.
Mr. Davenport jabbed a finger at them. “If you walk out that door, it’s all over. I’ll turn everything over to the police.”
“And I’ll issue a statement saying I was blackmailed into dating your son,” Layla shot back.
“Let’s go,” Grant whispered.
“You’re making a mistake!” Mr. Davenport yelled as they hurried out of the room.
“He won’t go to the police,” Grant said as they hurried to his car.
Layla opened the door and slid inside. “How can you be so sure?”
The grim look on her face told him all she needed to know. Clammy sweat chilled Layla’s entire body. Would Mr. Davenport really go to the police? Was he crazy enough to step on board a ship and set it on fire?
Dread filled her stomach, and she knew what she had to do.
Grant pulled to a stop outside her home. How were they here already? She stared up at the red brick that had once felt like a sanctuary and now felt like a prison.
Prison. Like the place her dad might end up.
She turned to Grant, grasping her hand in his. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—”
He held up a hand, silencing her. His eyes were sad, but his voice calm. “They both made their beds, and now they’ll have to lie in them. You deal with your father, and I’ll deal with mine.”
“Maybe we’ll both be visiting them in jail after today,” she said bitterly.
He squeezed her hand. “If we are, it’s their fault. Not ours. We didn’t know, Layla. Don’t you dare blame yourself.”
“You either.” She rested a hand gently on his cheek. “You’re a good man, Grant Davenport. Thank you. For everything.”
He turned his face into her palm and placed a gentle kiss there. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.”
Layla watched Grant drive away then took a deep breath. It wasn’t like today could get any worse. It was time to face her parents.
The house was painfully silent. She stepped carefully on the wood floor, avoiding the sections she knew creaked. The IRS or FBI or whatever government agency dealt with embezzlement would probably seize the house soon. Layla had a trust fund separate from her father’s holdings. The government couldn’t take that, too, could they?
Maybe Destiny Tours would let her return for a third year. She should’ve saved her money from this summer instead of spending it all on expensive dinners and spa days in Italy.
Gloria stood in the kitchen, with a flour dusted apron and a smile on her face.
“Haven’t seen you around in a while,” she said. “Fruit cake will be ready in a few minutes, if you want a slice.”
“Maybe later.” Layla swallowed hard. Gloria had to be close to sixty-five now. Where would she find a job when the Andersons had to lay her off? “Have you seen my parents?”
“They’re in the study, I think.”
“Thank you.” Layla leaned down, brushing a kiss on Gloria’s cheek.
“What was that for?” Gloria asked, smiling.
“I just appreciate everything you’ve done for us through the years. You’ve been like a second mom to me, and I love you.”
“Aww, I love you too, honey.” Gloria gave Layla a hug. “I’ll save an extra slice of fruit cake for that.”
Layla’s smile dropped as soon as Gloria’s back was turned. She opened the double doors and let herself into the study. Deja vu made her breath catch as she took in the scene. Daddy leaned against the desk, surveying the mansion out the picture window as he sipped a cup of coffee. Mom lounged in a chair, a crossword puzzle in her hands.
“Darling.” Mom closed the book and sat up. “How did your date with Grant go? Are you feeling any better?”
“You were sick?” Daddy asked.
“Just a headache.” Layla glanced at her dad then quickly looked away. “I need to talk to you. Both of you.”
“Of course, dear.” Mom folded her hands in her lap and looked up at Layla expectantly.
Daddy stepped closer, his brow furrowed in concern. “Did Grant do something to make you feel uncomfortable?”
She almost laughed at the question. Grant had never been anything but a perfect Southern gentleman. Daddy, on the other hand . . .
“It’s nothing like that.” Layla took a deep breath, looking back and forth between her parents. She wanted to savor this moment, when everything was right between them. Neither of them knew that everything was about to change. Layla didn’t know what the next few months would bring. A police investigation. Maybe a trial. Probably moving for Layla and her mom and jail time for Daddy. Right now, everything was still right with the world.
But it was all a lie.
“Daddy.” Layla folded her arms, her gaze boring into his eyes. She saw him swallow, caught the flash of fear in his eyes. “Are you embezzling money from Cypress Grove to cover up your gambling addiction?”
Mom let out a shriek, and Dad’s face grew ashen. Layla’s stomach fell, and the sick reality of the situation fell over her like a dark cloud. Part of her had hoped he’d deny it. That it was all some sick joke. The horror on his face told a different story.
“That’s ridiculous.” Mom looked back and forth between Daddy and Layla, the movement jerky. “It’s ridiculous, right, Drew? You haven’t gambled in years.”
At least Mom hadn’t known. Layla didn’t know whether that made her feel better or worse. Mom was innocent, just like Layla. But just like Layla, her entire world had just collapsed.
Daddy’s eyes flicked to the ground. Suddenly, Layla felt so very exhausted. Her hero, her idol, had fallen off his pedestal, and she’d never again view him the same.
“I fell off the bandwagon once or twice,” Daddy said. “But I’ve got it under control, and I’m fixing everything.”
Layla let out a hollow laugh. “You’re being blackmailed by Charlie Davenport. He’s probably sending an anonymous tip to the police right now. You’re going to lose everything.” She pointed to her mom. “We’re going to lose everything. That’s not under control.”
“How did you find this out?” Daddy demanded.
Layla shook her head, too tired to relate the story. “That’s not important. What’s important is that Grant and I are no longer dating. Mr. Davenport isn’t happy.” Her voice caught on the last word, but she forced herself to continue. “You should go to the police first. I think it’ll be better if you turn yourself in. Maybe the judge will take that into consideration and be more lenient.” She brushed her bangs off her forehead.
Mom faced Daddy, her face glowing red with rage. “How could you do this to us?” she shrieked. “You’ve put our entire family at risk. Our reputation, our financial stability, our future.”
“It was a mistake,” Daddy said. “Mistakes happen, Annette.”
“How much have you lost?”
“Annette—”
“How much?”
Layla rose and quietly stepped into the hallway as her parents’ words grew more heated. There would be days and weeks ahead to sort through all the emotions. Today, she was too tired.
She collapsed on her bed, feeling as though pieces of her soul had been stolen away. For so long, she’d fought to save Cypress Grove. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. She’d lose everything now.
Her fingers curled against her phone. Not everything, something whispered to her heart.
Maybe—just maybe—she still had Tyler. It was time to find out.
Tyler glanced up at his home, satisfaction pouring through h
im. The week of radio silence from Layla had served one purpose, at least. He had all the new Sheetrock up, and he had a plan to win back Layla.
Back at his apartment, he showered and got ready for a night bartending at Cypress Grove. Tonight, he’d corner Layla and convince her they had to communicate with each other. Accusing her father like that, with no warning and in public, had been rash and unacceptable. But relationships were rocky. That didn’t mean they weren’t worth the ride.
His parents were wrong. Two worlds could collide in a positive way if both halves of the couple were committed to making it work. And Tyler was one hundred percent in. Now it was time to find out if Layla was as well.
He wandered into the kitchen and grabbed the stack of posters from his kitchen counter, flipping through them. The photography store had done a great job. When he wasn’t working on his home, he’d spent the last week going through the photos of him and Layla in Europe. Somewhere in those pictures was proof they didn’t come from such different worlds. If this didn’t convince her how very serious he was about their relationship, nothing would.
He balanced the posters on one arm, then grabbed one more thing off the counter—a black velvet box.
On the tree-lined drive that led to Cypress Grove, Tyler passed by a white Mercedes heading in the opposite direction. He craned his neck, confirming it was indeed Grant alone in the vehicle. Good. That meant Layla was probably home.
He bypassed the employee entrance to the mansion and headed toward the pond, nerves making him sweat. Tonight he’d lay it all on the table. One way or the other, he’d know where he stood with Layla.
Dark clouds gathered overhead, and he prayed the weather would hold out. He was nearly finished setting up when his phone buzzed with a text. Layla. Her three simple words sent his heart soaring.
I need you.
He grinned and quickly texted back. Look outside.
Kiss Me in the Rain (Destined for Love: Mansions) Page 13