Dean was right. Ginny sucked at gold-digging. Somehow, that made Nick feel better.
“I’m gonna move back into the loft,” Nick said with a confident nod.
“That place is a mess.” Dean rolled his eyes.
“I like messes.”
Dean chuckled. “That’s true.”
“You suck at this friend thing.” Nick pushed himself up from the coffee table. “You know that?”
“You’re welcome.” Dean feigned innocence, then stepped forward. “Want to load this stuff up and take it back to the loft?”
Nick nodded. He had a direction now, and one he felt good about. He hadn’t felt this positive in months. Everything was going to work out fine.
Wasn’t it?
The next morning, Nick was back at work, tending to the needs of the restaurant before it opened at eleven—in two hours.
His first order of business was to check the inventory to make sure there were sufficient supplies for the weekend. He’d have to call today, if he wanted deliveries by Friday afternoon.
He left his office and cut through the dining room toward the kitchen. The storage room was located down a hall off to the left side. Before he got to the double doors that swung open into the kitchen, he was distracted by a knock on the front door.
Nick peered through the window next to the door, seeing Dean standing there looking troubled. Without hesitation, he pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. Dean scurried inside and waited silently while Nick relocked the door.
“What are you doing here?” Didn’t he have a community center to run?
“We need to talk.” Dean was fidgeting, but it wasn’t that rooster fidget he does when he’s proud of himself. This time, it was his coyote fidget, the one he does when he’s antsy.
“What’s up?” Nick didn’t know why, but his insides started to quiver.
“It’s about that check you gave me the other day for the community center. The computers, remember?”
“Yeah.” Nick’s insides relaxed. It was just like Dean to get him all worked up over nothing. “What, did you lose it?”
Dean had a hard time looking Nick in the eye. Nick didn’t like that. Dean shook his head, and said, “It bounced, man.”
“What?” Nick’s mouth dropped to the floor, carrying his confidence along for the ride. “There’s gotta be a mistake. Did you go inside the bank?”
Dean shifted from foot to foot and then rubbed his forehead. “There’s no mistake. Hang Ten’s petty cash account is empty.”
Nick massaged his chin. “That can’t be. There’s never less than twenty grand in that account at any given time. If it drops below, money comes straight out of the line of credit to top it back off.” Nick shook his head adamantly. “They made a mistake at the bank.”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but you’d better call the bank.” Dean offered the check to Nick. He took it, wondering if this was another one of Dean’s pranks.
If this was a joke, Dean was one hell of an actor. Besides that, Dean wouldn’t use something that meant so much to both of them as vehicle to fuel his prank.
Uncertainty gnawed at Nick’s insides. This had to be a mistake. He headed for his office, waving at Dean to follow him. Nick wanted him to hear it for himself that there had been a mistake. That’s all it was. A simple mistake. Maybe the teller was new and hadn’t quite learned the system yet.
Whatever. Nick would get this cleared up in a jiff.
After getting the bank on the phone, and explaining the situation, Nick gave the girl his petty cash account number and then she put him on hold.
Each second that passed while Nick waited jabbed at his confidence. What if Dean was right? What if there was no money in the account? But that didn’t make sense. Nick had plenty of money at his disposal. Not tons, but enough for him and Hang Ten.
Nick heard the click at the other end of the line. “Mr. Matthews…?” When she said his name, her voice was not nearly as confident as it had been two minutes ago. “I’m afraid your account is overdrawn.”
“Overdrawn?” Nick said in a sharp tone.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “By twelve hundred thirty-two dollars and forty-eight cents.”
“That’s impossible.” Nick adopted a defiant tone. “When that account goes below twenty thousand, the bank automatically transfers funds from my line of credit to top it off.”
“Let me check that account.” She paused. Nick could hear her typing in the background. After a moment, she said, “Can you give me that account number so I can make sure I’m looking at the right one?”
“Sure.” Nick fished his wallet from his back pocket and rifled through the contents until he found his list of account numbers. He rattled off the line of credit’s number and waited.
And waited.
Finally, the girl on the other end of the call cleared her throat. “Mr. Matthews…?”
“Yes.”
“I’m afraid your line of credit is maxed out.”
“What?” Nick’s voice had gone high and loud, fueled by the instant overdrive his heartbeat had gone into the second she said the words maxed out.
“Yes, sir. In fact, all of your accounts are overdrawn or maxed out, except for payroll and the account that pays the mortgage on the restaurant.”
The Hang Ten mortgage and the payroll accounts? Suddenly, and sadly, the clouds were beginning to clear. Ginny had access to all the accounts except those two. “How badly overdrawn am I?” Nick asked in a low, strained voice, afraid of the answer.
“Give me a sec and I’ll add it up.” More clicking. Nick’s heart thudded harder against his chest. His thoughts went fuzzy. He was almost able to grasp the notion that he might be financially ruined. The girl cleared her throat again, and said, “All totaled, your accounts are overdrawn by eight thousand seven hundred fifty-six dollars and seventy-eight cents. Plus there’s the one-hundred thousand that you now owe on the line of credit.”
And that, no doubt, would soon start accruing interest. How in the world was Nick supposed to pay back a hundred grand? He was financially ruined, and it was all Ginny’s doing. “My ex-fiancée did this,” he said. “Do I have any kind of recourse?”
“She is a joint owner on all of your accounts but two.”
“We need to stop that right now.” Nick struggled to hold his temper, reminding himself that his real target was Ginny, not this poor girl on the other end of the phone.
“You’ll need to come down to the bank to sign a form for that.”
“I’ll do that this morning.” Nick had managed to calm his tone. He needed this girl’s help, not her rebuttal. “How long do I have before the bank gets nasty about these overdrawn accounts and the maxed out credit line?”
“If the overdraft fees aren’t taken care of in thirty days, the bank will report you to ChexSystems and start collection proceedings. Your first payment of two thousand one-hundred thirty-nine dollars and twenty-four cents will be due on the line of credit in approximately thirty-five days.”
“Thank you. I’ll be down to the bank in a bit to take my ex off the accounts.” Nick hung up the phone and looked at Dean. “Turns out…” Shock flowed like lava through Nick, hot and burning, and nothing could stop it. “Ginny’s a lot more devious than we’ve been giving her credit for being.”
“What’s going on?” Dean’s voice was edgy, nervous.
“I’m in deep shit, Dean. Deep, deep shit.”
CHAPTER NINE
DEIDRA STOMPED HER FEET like a spoiled teenager. At twenty-three, she and Lecie were hardly more than that. But they had to grow up sometime. Maybe just not today.
Lecie chuckled to herself. Deidra’s temper tantrums had always amused her. Today’s was no exception. Although, she wasn’t about to give in to Deidra’s whims. Not this time.
“Let’s find a new place to hang out,” Lecie insisted. “Hang Ten can’t be the only cool place on the California coast.”
“But I like thei
r blackened tilapia, and their lemon drop martinis.” Deidra’s tone went nasal. She leaned against the fireplace mantel and stared at Lecie, who was sitting on the couch with her eyes focused on her laptop.
“I’m sure Hang Ten doesn’t have the market cornered on lemon-drop martinis.” Lecie rolled her eyes back to the computer screen for a second, then let her gaze drift back up to her friend.
Deidra pushed off the fireplace. “Are you farming again?”
“No.” Lecie closed the laptop. “I’m not farming.”
“You are too!” Deidra moved to the couch and plopped down beside Lecie. “Let’s go out,” she urged. “Interact with the real world.”
“The real world sucks.” Lecie put the laptop on the coffee table.
Deidra laughed. “Says the girl who owns this beautiful house—outright, I might add—here in the land of fun.”
“Fun is overrated. You shouldn’t get attached to it.”
“Spoil sport.”
“Look…” Lecie cut her eyes at Deidra. “There’s always somebody who will, knowingly or not, stomp on your fun.”
“Say…people who get married, for instance?”
While it’s true, no decent, self-respecting girl wanted to moon over a married man—and Lecie probably would, whether she was in California or France—but that wasn’t what she was talking about.
“I was speaking of Papa.” Lecie rolled her eyes away from Deidra. “You cannot count on any measure of fun to last while my father’s around, lurking in the shadows.”
If Papa was set on Lecie returning home, then she had better be vigilant. With a man like him gunning for her, she didn’t need the distraction that came with having a crush on a married man.
Inside Hang Ten, the staff moved back and forth between the kitchen, dining and supply rooms, and the outdoor patio in preparation for the lunch crowd that would begin to mill in once the doors opened at eleven.
Dean glanced stealthily around the dining room, then leaned across the table toward Nick. “So what are you going to do?” They both knew what he was talking about.
Nick laughed. Not a jovial laugh, but one of irony. “I owe the bank a hundred and eight grand—” He shrugged. “—and some change. I’d kill myself if it weren’t for the insurance.”
“The insurance?”
“Ginny’s my beneficiary.”
“Ah…” Dean kicked his head back. “You should change that.”
“It’s on my to-do list.” Nick cut his eyes toward Dean and gave him a hard stare. “Right behind trying to fend off bankruptcy.”
“Don’t you have any money in savings?”
“Had,” Nick corrected him. “The key word here is had.”
“She wiped out your savings account, too?” Dean shook his head. “Man, that’s tough. What’d you have in there…hundred grand?”
“About seventy grand.” A sadness had invaded Nick’s voice. “It’s all I had left of the money Walter left me.”
Walter Moreland. To hear Nick’s mother tell it, Walter was just an old friend. And while Nick’s father had died when Nick was about to turn eleven, the best he could ever recall, Walter Moreland was not a person that his father had ever spoke of. But the way Nick saw it, considering that Nick had been named in Walter’s will, something had gone on between his mother and Walter, hopefully before she married his father.
“Seriously?” Dean’s tone turned gruff, right along with his frown. “She wiped out your inheritance, too? Is that legal?”
“Apparently, the only person in this scenario who committed a crime was me. For being so damned stupid.” Nick flushed hot with an abrupt and vicious indignation. “I added her to my accounts. Gave her carte blanche to rob me blind.”
“You can’t beat yourself up about that.”
“Why not?” Nick’s scoffing laughter had a bite to it. “I’m responsible for my own undoing.”
“Hell, Nick. You were gonna marry the girl. That’s what married people do. They share bank accounts and crap like that.”
“Well let that be a lesson to you.” Nick’s tone was unwavering. He hoped he never forgot the lesson being taught to him now. “Steer clear of marriage, man. And never, ever give someone access to your bank accounts.”
“You’ve learned what not to do.” Dean gave him one of those nods, like he knew the direction of this conversation had taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way. He shrugged, and said, “Question is…what are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know.” Nick shook his head. “Maybe I can get some credit with the suppliers for the next few months. If I don’t have to pay them, maybe I can make a dent in the money I owe the bank and still keep the community center afloat.”
The community center. It’d been an unmentioned topic hanging in the air between them, ever since Nick found out what Ginny had done to his bank accounts.
Simple truth was, Nick wasn’t the only one in trouble here. If he lost his financial footing the community center would suffer too. Without him, the center would fade away. And if Nick let that happen, it’d be like letting his brother Kevin down all over again.
CHAPTER TEN
Marseilles, France
IN THE BEDROOM SUITE at Pacifique de Lumière, Camille de Laurent’s husband Julian lingered at her side while she perused the jewelry in the box near the dresser.
“Chéri, are you bored with these gems?” he asked. “Try the safe downstairs. I’m sure you’ll find something to your liking in there.”
The safe downstairs was a room that easily rivaled the size of any of the stores on Rodeo Drive. It was the de Laurent’s basement, and it housed the family’s jewels, unlike the personal items here in Camille’s jewelry chest. These were hers. The stuff down there belonged to the family. But she supposed that one day, most of the jewels down there would be hers. Sort of.
“No…” She laughed playfully. “I’m just procrastinating about what to wear.”
“Whatever you wear,” he said, “it will pale in comparison to your beauty.” His lips brushed temptingly against her cheek.
A blush heated her face, for just a split-second, before she caught it and wrangled it in. “Julian de Laurent.” She looked at his reflection in the mirror, and said, “You’re up to something.”
“Me?” His hand flew to his chest.
“Yes. You.” She nodded. “The question is…what could you possibly be trying to flatter out of me?”
“Chéri, how can you suspect me of ulterior motives?” He laid it on thick. Between his velvety-smooth voice, sparkling eyes, and a hint of a smile, a girl could get talked out of her good graces.
But Julian had already done that. No, he wanted something else from her, and Camille wanted to cut to the chase to find out what. “Spill it.”
“I just thought you might like to vacation in California for a while,” he said in a more serious tone.
A pang of longing shot through Camille and wafted out in her voice. “California?”
“Perhaps Tasha could go with you.”
An even better idea. “Maybe we could stay at Lecie’s?” She nodded. Julian grinned, and in that instant Camille knew she’d stumbled upon his motive. “Ah…I see.”
“I think it might be best if you and Tasha go with Gerard. I think your presence will make it easier for her to accept a butler in the house.” Julian stopped and laughed softly. “One she’ll undoubtedly think is Papa’s spy.”
“And just how long is a while?” Caution had invaded her voice.
“Some weeks.” He shrugged. “However long it takes.”
Some weeks? However long it takes? Why so long? It’s not like Lecie was socially inept. Camille crossed her arms at her waist and peered at Julian through narrowed eyes. “And what else should I be doing while I’m there?”
Julian laughed and waved a surrendering motion at Camille before taking her hand and tugging her toward the chairs by the window. “Well…” He waited for her to sit, then he did. “Now that Lecie knows how
far Papa is willing to go to bring her home, she’s bound to retaliate.”
“Would he really have her deported?” That was low even for Maurice.
Julian looked at her and grinned. “In a New York minute.”
“She’s not going to like that.”
“No, she’s not.” Julian paused, and Camille could feel his eyes on her. She shifted her gaze toward him. “That’s where you come in.”
“Me?” she asked with a curious innocence.
“And Tasha,” Julian added.
Camille squinted her eyes. “I’m not going to talk the girl into coming home,” she said, shaking her head. “And I highly doubt that Tasha will either.”
“I don’t want you to talk her into coming home.”
“Then what do you want us to do?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SEATED BEHIND THE DESK IN HIS OFFICE, Nick held the telephone’s receiver to his ear. He’d left the door open when he’d come in to make the phone call, and now he mindlessly watched Bethany and Diane ready the dining room for the lunch crowd that’d be pouring in as soon as the doors opened at eleven. Nick checked his watch. 10:15.
Once he got Tony over at Molina’s Bakery on the phone—there was no use talking to anybody else, Tony owned the place and was the only one who could definitively give him a yes—Nick started with a casual, “Morning, Tony, it’s Nick Matthews.”
He could damn near hear Tony tensing up across the airwaves. Uh oh. Was he going to get all weird about the wedding that didn’t happen? Tony said to him, “Nick…I’ve been meaning to give you a call.”
But you thought it might turn out awkward, right? Nick chuckled to himself. “There’s just never enough hours in the day, are there?” Nick gave him an out, hoping he’d take it.
“Not when you’re the bearer of bad news.” Tony’s voice tightened.
Billionaire Games Boxed Set (The Marriage Bargain, The Marriage Caper, The Marriage Fix) Page 40