Was he right? Was she being a chicken and hiding from her self-made problems yet again?
She’d been the one to agree to that show in the first place, knowing full well that scandals almost always came out of it. Good grief, she’d even signed a contract stating the show could portray her in whatever light they wished, good or bad, and indemnifying them of any consequences.
And pretending to be engaged to solve a problem, that had been just icing on the cake.
But…she looked at the folder. “Is it true, though? Did William commit fraud?”
Harrison laughed. “Will couldn’t cheat anyone out of money if his life depended on it. You may not know it, but once upon a time, he was a young kid, sold out for Jesus, and wouldn’t steal a piece of bread from a bird even if he were starving. No, Will isn’t a crook. But I think we can both take a wild guess at who is.”
Doug.
As she’d suspected herself.
Suddenly, the truth was clear. While a future for her and Will wasn’t exactly a possibility, he was not a thief, and if Harrison thought she had the power to help him, she had to try.
“Fine. I’ll go.”
The front door opened and her dad marched in, stomping snow off his boots. “We got visitors, Hanna-girl?”
She stood and swallowed the knot in her throat. Dad wasn’t going to be happy. “Uh, yeah. Mr. Preston, Will’s dad, is here.”
Her dad came around the corner, a smile on his lips. “Harrison, good to finally meet you.” He held out his hand, and the two men shook hands then hugged, complete with hard slaps on the back as if they were old friends.
Hanna glanced between the two, more confused than a fish circling a plastic, neon-pink worm. “I don’t understand. Do you two know each other?”
Her dad came over and squeezed her shoulders. “Of course we do, sugar. You think I’m going to let you traipse off across the country with my blessing without talking to the young man’s dad?”
“Your dad called me well over a year ago, before they even started filming your season of The Price of Love.”
She groped behind her for the chair and, finding it, allowed herself to fall into it. “I’m so confused right now. Why would you do that?”
“You were all bent on going, and I know you’re an adult and all, but I took myself up to the library and did a little research on William Preston. Called up his dad and we had a right nice chat. Been talking, what, ’bout once a week or so since?”
Harrison nodded. “Your dad’s a good guy. Promised to take me ice fishing one of these days.”
Her dad ignored her and looked at his—friend? “I know you’re in a hurry, but next time, you’ll have to plan to stay longer.”
Had these two retirees been abducted by aliens or something? She looked around. Maybe she was on one of those What-Would-You-Do shows…now that would be classic. “Dad, you knew about this?”
He just grinned. “Gave him directions and everything. Also told him not to bring a sissy car like his son did. Now, go pack. You don’t have a lot of time if you’re going to make it to the airport in time.”
The room was almost a haze as she walked to the back stairs, still thoroughly confused.
As she put her foot on the first step, a thought slammed into her. The fake engagement. Her dad knew, but—
Turning, she faced the two. “Harrison, did you know—?”
He nodded. “The whole time.”
“And your wife?”
“We keep no secrets from each other.”
She blinked, the truth settling in. “But—but she made me buy the dress….”
He flushed red. “That was her idea, not mine. A bit of expensive wishful thinking, we’ll call it. It’s still hanging up in our closet, just in case.”
The thought of the expensive, over-the-top dress hanging there, never to be worn, made her sad.
But unfortunately, it would never be.
Even if she wanted it now, Will would never forgive her for ruining his career.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Will sipped his coffee, ignoring the buzz around him at Starbucks.
He’d never actually come and sat down here before, had just breezed in and out on his way to the office when he wasn’t running late.
But his realtor had three showings on his condo today, so he had to make himself scarce.
How does one do that when they were jobless?
He took another sip of the startling black brew. They went to the local coffee shop, evidently.
His phone vibrated, and he checked the screen.
A text from Emma.
YOU AT HOME?
He sighed. He wouldn’t have a home for long. No. STARBUCKS DOWN THE STREET.
Setting the phone on his knee, he sat back in the chair and looked around at the nameless faces. All milling around, some in a hurry, some settled in at what was probably their remote office. All with some sort of purpose. A place to go. A place to be. A place to go home to.
Will was losing both his “go” and “be” places.
He was giving up his “home to” place as a way to cut back on expenses. Sure, he had plenty of money in the bank.
But not many people hired unemployed CEOs who were suspects for fraud.
No, he needed to cut back. Conserve. Figure out what to do next.
He closed his eyes. This was why people committed suicide, he decided. Not that he would ever contemplate that. But he could see how someone given to depression, who felt this utter loss of meaningful life, could think it better just to end it.
His phone vibrated on his leg again. I’M ON MY WAY OVER. JUST DOWN THE STREET. BRINGING SOME GUESTS.
Guests?
What was Emma up to now?
SHOULDN’T YOU BE AT WORK?
His eyes darted from the front glass door back to his phone. He’d rather just be alone, but another part of him was curious.
A text came in. I QUIT. EXPLAIN IN A MINUTE.
Just great. He hoped she didn’t have some crazy plan to start their own business or something.
He was through leading companies. Maybe he’d try to go back to R&D somewhere, eventually, after the storm had settled.
That is, if they didn’t throw him in jail for something he didn’t do.
The door jingled as it opened.
He looked up to see Emma with—
“Greg?”
He stood to meet his predecessor, the man he’d tried hard to distance himself from. He hadn’t wanted the previous CEO’s indiscretions to leak over onto him.
The distance had obviously done no good.
Greg sat down across the table, and Emma to the side, between them. “Afternoon, Will.”
William glanced at his former assistant. “Emma, what’s going on?”
“Your dad will be here in a few minutes. I’ll let him explain.”
She might as well have been speaking Latin. Her words made no sense. “Dad left to go back to Jersey days ago. Why would he be back?”
“Let’s just say, he never planned to go home.”
“What are you talking abo—” The door jingled again, cutting off his question.
William looked up to see his dad standing beside—
Hanna. The woman he thought he was falling in love with, who ended up serving his head on a platter to the very media she’d despised.
Hanna stood beside Harrison, her stomach twisted in a knot of nerves.
William sat at a table with a man she didn’t recognize and a woman who looked oddly familiar.
“Ella?”
The woman stood and smiled. “It’s actually Emma. I am—I mean—was Will’s executive assistant.”
That didn’t make any sense. “But you were on the set. You were part of the crew.” She’d been the one gleaming light during the taping of The Price of Love. She’d given Hanna pep talks, talked her nerves down, and been so kind. She’d even given her fashion tips on how to wear her hair.
Emma motioned them to sit at
the small table. “Will wanted someone on the inside, so I came on to make sure he didn’t get fooled by some crazy woman only in it for his money.”
“But, that’s the point, right? For him to try and figure out on his own who was in it for his money?”
William held up a hand. “None of it matters now. Dad, what is she doing here?”
Hanna sat up straighter. She hadn’t expected Will to be happy, but neither had she anticipated the glint of anger in his eyes. It had always been reversed. “Will, I—”
Harrison patted her shoulder. “I think we need to all discuss this in private. Will, how long until we can get in your condo?”
He frowned. “I don’t see what there is to talk about.”
The man rankled her. They were all trying to help, and he was sitting here like a spoiled brat. “Listen, if he’s going to be like this, I’m just going home.”
Will stood, his eyes narrowing at her. “I’m not sure why you’d come in the first place after you—”
“After I what? Humiliated you? Ruined your life? Oh, sounds a little familiar, I think.”
“This is different.”
“Is it?”
Gentle answers, Hanna. Yeah, a lot harder than it sounded.
Harrison cleared his throat. “This isn’t the time or place. Will, call your agent and see if you can get back in.”
Will looked from her to his dad then back to her. His demeanor seemed to calm a little. “Fine.” He jabbed a few numbers on his phone and confirmed that the showings had just finished.
Hanna tried not to laugh at their sour-looking group that entered the fancy, upscale condo. The last time she left, she swore she’d never be back, would never, ever be sucked back in by Will and his aura that had a way of capturing her against her better judgment.
They all took a seat on the swanky leather couch that was more handsome than it was comfortable.
Only Harrison remained standing. “I know you’re all a little skeptical, so hear me out. I think we can help each other if we work together. Now, I’ve done a little digging—”
Will’s dad spent the next hour detailing his hypothesis—that Doug was behind both Greg’s demise as well as Will’s, and was also instrumental in the media craze that seemed to follow Will and Hanna since the show—giving all the evidence he had gathered to support it.
None of it was concrete or actionable. Almost all of it was circumstantial. But no one in the room was left with any doubt by the time he was finished.
Greg sat forward, his elbows on his knees. “I’ve thought it was Doug all along. My lawyers have tried everything to pin it on him, but the man covered his tracks well.”
Harrison nodded. “That he did, although he got a little desperate with Will. He was no longer able to bide his time and wanted it to be an immediate blow. His demise, however, came when he made a fatal error.” He lifted the page from the report Doug had given Hanna and handed it to Greg. “You see this?”
Greg glanced at the sheet and frowned. “It’s just a page from the quarterly forecast—and one out of the middle at that. You can’t tell much from this.”
“Check out the date.”
“Two months ago. That’s not out of the norm, though, for a preliminary forecast.”
Harrison nodded. “Except that Hanna here saw the whole thing, which included numbers showing a pretty significant forecasted profit. Doug used it to convince Hanna that Will was cooking the books. My hypothesis is that these were the actual numbers, and Doug did some fancy accounting using the loopholes he convinced Will to go along with to actually make things look worse—in an effort to get him fired.”
Will stood. “It doesn’t matter. He’ll lie and say Hanna misunderstood him. That paper proves nothing.”
His dad sat down on one of the barstools he’d pulled over. “Like I said, we need more evidence. That’s where Hanna comes in.”
Hanna lifted her chin. She already knew what was coming and had already agreed to it.
She just wasn’t sure Will would.
Her ex-fiancé looked between her and his dad. “What are you talking about?”
“Doug doesn’t know any of us have even seen this piece of paper. In fact, he probably doesn’t even know it’s missing yet. But he is well aware that Hanna has seen the entire report.”
“And how does that help us?”
Harrison looked his son in the eye. “Hanna’s agreed to wear a wire and get Doug to confess.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Will looked from his dad to Hanna, stunned. “Absolutely not.”
Hanna stood, her hands on her irritatingly curvy hips. “Why not?”
He took a step toward her. “It’s too dangerous. I may be ticked off at you right now, but I’m not going to be responsible for you getting hurt.” He turned. “Dad, I can’t believe you’d even suggest this. If Doug really is behind all this, he’s dangerous. Who knows what he’ll do?”
“I’ve already talked to the detective working on Greg’s case and the SEC and made them aware of our suspicions. They agreed it isn’t enough right now but will support us in getting the additional information. We’ll have police close by in case anything happens.”
He shook his head. “When did you all do this? Why wasn’t I involved?”
“Frankly, son, you were too busy feeling sorry for yourself and sulking.”
He balled a fist and took a step toward his father. “That’s uncalled for.”
“It’s true. Now, we’re going ahead with this whether you like it or not. The question is, will you help?”
Will looked from Hanna to his father.
He didn’t really have a choice. “Fine. When will we do it?”
Hanna tucked a blond curl behind her ear, her hand trembling slightly. A sign she was more nervous about this than she let on. “This afternoon. We didn’t want to drag it out any longer. Plus, I want to get back home as soon as I can.”
Will looked at her, frustrated at the intense burning in his gut at the idea of her in harm’s way. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and refuse to allow it.
At the same time, he wanted to throttle her for what she’d done to him. The familiar questions plagued him again. Had it been payback? Had she been leading him on, planning the ultimate revenge?
If so, she’d given an Oscar-winning performance.
But then why was she back now?
He grabbed her elbow and urged her toward the spiral staircase. “I need a moment alone with Hanna.”
Hanna glanced at Will’s dad, as if gaining permission.
Harrison nodded. “We’ll finish laying out the details down here. We don’t have a lot of time though, so make it quick.”
Will led his ex-fiancée up the staircase and into his bedroom, shutting the door behind them.
“Will, we could have just gone to your office. This isn’t really appropriate.”
Glancing at the bed, he ran a hand through his hair. She was right. But it was done now. “There is a houseful of people right below us. Believe me when I tell you, your virtue is safe.”
She harrumphed. “My virtue was in danger long before now.”
He walked to his dresser and picked up the ring, still in the exact spot she’d put it. “I want my coin back.”
“We’re done being fake engaged, Will. I’m sorry. I know I should have explained, but—”
“I agree. It was a sham from the start. But you gave me that coin, and I gave you this ring. I told you when we were done you could keep it, and I meant it. I’d just like to keep the coin as well.”
He turned to look at her, and their eyes met.
They stood silent for several seconds before Hanna stuffed a hand in her jeans pocket and produced the small gold coin then tossed it in the air to him.
He caught it in his hand then held out the ring in his palm. “Forgive me if I don’t throw a five-grand diamond to you.”
She shook her head. “Keep it.”
“No. I told you it was yours w
hen I bought it.”
Her hands rested on those crazy, enticing hips. “What am I going to do with an engagement ring I don’t need?”
He shrugged. “Pawn it if you want. I don’t care.”
She pressed a finger against the corner of her eye. “Did I ever tell you why I picked that one?”
“Not that I recall.”
“It looks just like my mom’s. About twice the size, but the shape and design are similar. We buried it with her, so—it was just sweet to see it. But honestly? Taking it home with me would be more bitter than sweet, and I could never bring myself to sell it. So please. Keep it. You’ll be doing me a favor.”
He looked at the ring then at her. His heart caught as if having a little hiccup. How was he going to let this irritating woman go? Then he remembered what she’d done.
Setting the ring and the coin on the dresser, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You sure about tonight? You don’t have to, you know.” Part of him hoped she would apologize to him. Then maybe he could scrounge up enough mercy to forgive her.
She stared at her hands she fiddled with in front of her. “I—I just need to do this. It’s the right thing to do.”
No apology. No remorse. Just duty. Probably her Christian duty.
Well, he’d let her do it, and then they would be done with each other for good.
He’d tried to make good.
She’d have paid her penance.
Wilanna, as the press had dubbed them, would be no more, once and for all.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Hanna smoothed a hand over the front of her blouse, the tiny bud of a microphone pinned underneath shifting at her touch. She couldn’t have been more uncomfortable if she had a gun strapped to her thigh with a garter.
Her rifle from back home in her hands would feel more natural than this.
The elevator dinged as she made it to the tenth floor of the office building that held the corporate headquarters of Foster and Jones.
The doors parted before her, revealing a large, mostly bare room. A sleek desk took up most of the space, with a couple of chairs scattered off to the side, their curvy plastic style offering no allure of comfort. The Foster and Jones logo blazed on the otherwise bare wall.
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