“I’m not sure what . . .”
Jonathan cut him off. “We have one week. One fucking week before the auditors get here.” He handed him copies of the mistakes he found, the errors circled in red. Pushing the stack of papers into Simon’s chest none too gently, he added, “Find the others, or it’s your ass.” He was done with being politically correct or using diplomacy.
Simon had stepped back and was examining the papers. He looked apprehensive as he looked at the figures. Panic clearly was in the man’s eyes. Jonathan was glad. The man needed to panic. Needed to do his job.
“I see it now. I really don’t know how this happened.” Simon looked nervous as hell. He opened his mouth to speak once more. Stopped, and started. “I’ve never made mistakes like this before, Jonathan,” he stalled for time. Lying. Placing the papers back on the desk, Simon hoped Jonathan would give him the benefit of the doubt. He’d been foolish to think no one would find these errors until he was gone. He needed time. He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow.
Jonathan looked at the man. He looked green. Shit, the cancer, he remembered. “All right. Calm down, but find these mistakes, Simon. The rest of them. If the auditors see this, we are screwed. The money has to be here. I’m not accusing. . . You’ve got to find it.”
Simon began to nod his head profusely. “No, no. You’re right. The money has to be here. I will take all these books and ledgers. . .” He started towards the pile of papers on Jonathan’s desk.
Jonathan stopped him. “Nope. Sorry. I am going to keep digging myself. Use the computer ledgers. But find those other mistakes, Simon. I need your help on this.” His tone brokered no argument. “But, I’m really disappointed it has come to this. And if by Wednesday we don’t find anything. You don’t find the rest, well, I will have to bring in an independent team to examine the books.”
Simon stared at Jonathan, a shocked look on his face. “Wednesday? That’s three days away. And you can’t bring in an independent team. You can’t do that without board approval. You need permission. If the press gets wind of it, the gaming commission. . .”
Jonathan gave Simon his most menacing stare. “What the hell? I’m covering your ass, too. You need to keep your mouth shut. The board?” Was the man Crazy? “They’ll shut us down either way. Clean house here at Mystic, and probably press charges. At least this way we can catch the mistakes, or crooks,” he emphasized that word, “ourselves and save all of our asses.”
Simon shook his head in shame. “Um, yeah. Ok. You are right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll. . . I’ll get right on it.” He began to back out, headed towards the door, and escape. He needed to call Peter. Peter would tell him what to do.
He heard Jonathan’s words as he crossed the threshold. “Don’t disappoint me, Simon.”
Simon didn’t answer. He fled to his office like the devil was after him.
*
As soon as Simon was in the privacy of his own office, he plucked his cell phone from his pocket and sat down heavily in the chair behind his desk. He needed to call Peter. If Jonathan brought in a team of independent auditors Wednesday, that would destroy their plans. Two million had already been siphoned out of the casino. Two more was coming out Friday. It was the big prize they had saved for last. The plan had been for the casino to look like it was losing money this quarter and the reserve would have demanded the Sassacus reign and control of Mystic Nights be terminated.
Peter wanted the job. Simon knew that. He was angry Tawny had been given the reins and she had brought her brood in to keep her family in control. But if they figured out what was going on and exposed him, then Peter would be the next to appear on their radar while he would spend the rest of his life behind bars. He didn’t want that. And Peter would kill him. Peter, he had set this whole thing up. Had used his cancer and the lure of money to get those trial treatments his health plans didn’t cover. Only Peter knew his cancer was back. His remission hadn’t lasted long.
He had confided that to Peter. And Peter had then proposed the plan. Simon would get the money. Retire. Go get treatment, and Peter would get the Mystic, and a smaller share of the cash. No one would ever know. The accounts they had set up in the Bahamas could not be traced to them, but he knew Jonathan would soon connect the dots. Wonder how Simon had made, or not caught all those errors. Then when the money couldn’t be found, his fate would be sealed. Well, like hell if he was going down alone on this! Peter better come up with something, or else. After four rings, the phone went to Peter’s voicemail.
He hung up, and tried again. This time, Peter answered. On the second ring.
“What’s up?” Peter snapped when he saw it was Simon.
Simon quickly filled him in. “Jonathan is beginning to suspect.”
“Suspect what?” Simon heard the menace in Peter’s voice.
“He’s already found errors amounting to a quarter million. He’s talking about bringing in an independent team of accountants on Wednesday . . .”
“Shit. This is not good, Simon. We need to stall him. Distract him.” Peter was angry. And afraid. Simon heard it.
“But he said he will bring in a team. How do I stall that? They will find the discrepancies and they will see the money is not here in a matter of hours.”
“Go see Jonathan first thing in the morning. Tell him you found more errors. Tell him . . . shit . . . tell him the independent team is a good idea, you know someone, and you’ll call them.”
“What?” Was the man nuts?
“But you don’t call anyone.” Peter shook his head. The man obviously was clueless when it came to anything but numbers.
Simon clued in. “Okay that gives us until Wednesday, then what do I do when they don’t show?”
“Tell them the flight was delayed. Whatever. Think of something. But, can we move the money, the rest of it earlier? Just in case.” He wanted the auditors to find the mistakes, make the accusations. Not the board and not him. Just in case this thing blew up, having the money sitting in Nassua would be his back up. His. Simon wouldn’t be around to share in that. The man was an idiot, and a loose end. Loose ends got cut.
“I don’t know.” Simon was shaking his head to an empty room. “Maybe we should just keep what we have and run.”
Peter let out an exasperated sigh. He needed to reassure the man. He couldn’t have him panicking anymore than he already was. He needed no slip ups now, when they were so close. “Listen Simon. Those millions are there as back up. The bigger pie for me is the casino. I want it all. The plan was to take them down. All of them. We need to keep him distracted. Just long enough to get what we want and take down those proud cocky Sassacus’s once and for all. So you just keep doing what you are doing. Stay the course. Move as much as you can and I will handle Jonathan.”
Simon swallowed the lump in his throat. He was terrified of being caught. “Okay. I will.”
“Good, good. Now call me if you need me. I’ll keep my phone close. Do the same.” Peter made sure he sounded confident. He didn’t want to spook Simon. God only knew what the man might do.
After saying goodbye, and to keep his chin up, Peter hung up and Simon mopped his brow once more. The plan had been foolproof, he thought morosely. Then Jonathan started checking the books himself. Stay the course! Fuck that! Well, he had a backup plan of his own.
Simon booted up his computer and opened the books. He clicked a few buttons and moved a bit more of the money. Another half million. Half into his account and half into Peter’s. Tomorrow he would do the same. By Tuesday he would have all four million transferred. Into his account. Then he was getting out of Dodge. Fuck Wednesday. And fuck Peter.
Chapter 14
‡
After Aliya’s show, Jonathan was waiting in the wings. Again, he was exhausted, but after their earlier conversation and dinner together, he wanted to reassure her that he was there for her. He wasn’t going anywhere soon, if it all.
“Are you coming home with
me tonight?” she asked shyly from underneath her dark lashes.
He sighed. Even though tomorrow was Sunday, he couldn’t. No days off for him until he figured out this mess in accounting. “I can’t. Wish I could. But I was hoping you would come up to my suite tonight. For a little bit anyway. I need to be here early. I’ve got a slew of accountants coming in tomorrow and I have to be here to greet them. It was something I decided at the last minute.” After Simon had left, he spent another two hours on the books and found more errors. Stupid errors Simon should have caught easily, especially if he’d found them. His ire had gone through the roof and he’d grown more than suspicious of Simon. He was beginning to think Simon was in on this. His nerves in their brief meeting had more to do with guilt than being embarrassed or sick. “They were originally coming Wednesday, but this just can’t wait. But I do need you with me tonight.” It would be her choice. He thought about asking her to leave some of her clothes in his suite, for nights like these, but did not want to push. Too soon, he thought. But in his line of work, he was lucky to make it to his own home four nights a week.
“Sure. I’d love to. Just let me grab my bag. I have some extra clothes in there.” The smile he gave her chased her fears away that she’d told him too much too soon. Yes, she was definitely falling in love with this man. He was easy to love, and she was happy she had taken the chance on him.
As soon as the door to the suite was open, Aliya’s senses were overwhelmed by the roses. They were everywhere. Pink and white roses in vases. At least a dozen bouquets were scattered about the rooms in crystal vases. Aliya twirled taking it all in. With the chandelier glowing softly in the center of the large room, the light glinting off the crystal dazzled her. He’d done this for her. Had been hoping she would come up. He cared. She felt a lump rise in her throat making it difficult to speak.
She also saw a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket by the bed. Two champagne flutes sat on the bedside table waiting to be filled. Next to them were strawberries covered in chocolate.
“For me?” she asked in astonishment.
Jonathan’s reaction was to laugh. “Of course this is for you. I wanted to show my girl how special she is. How special this is. What we have found together.”
Aliya ran the three paces it took to reach him. His arms were already open. She gazed into the eyes of the man she loved. So quickly she had fallen, and she had never felt so cherished in her life, in this moment and in this man’s strong arms. She pressed a kiss to his lips, eyes wide open. “Thank you, it’s . . . perfect.” It was the only word she could think to use. But it was true.
“You are perfect,” he replied and kissed her back on the tip of her nose. Pulling back slightly he gazed deeply into her almond shaped eyes, the pupils large in the dimly lit room. “Aliya. I’m falling so hard,” he admitted.
Falling. Like her. It just came out. “I love you, Jonathan. I know it’s soon. But I feel it. I really do.” She touched her hand to her heart. “In here.”
Jonathan’s answer was to claim her lips, and show her how much he returned those very same feelings. His lips crashed onto hers, and she opened for him. His tongue plundered her sweetness. And she was sweet. When her tongue tangled with his, he knew he was lost. Her hunger was as strong as his. He began to lead her towards the bed. When they got there, he broke the kiss and began to undress. Her movements began to mimic his. When she was standing before him in the purple silk panties and bra, he sucked in air like a drowning man. “God, Aliya you are so beautiful. So incredibly fucking beautiful. And I . . . I love you too,” he ground out as he reached for her, taking her with him onto the bed.
Aliya was on top and she took advantage of the situation. “God, I love you.” Her words were urgent, her motions frantic as she reached for his cock. She wanted to show him how much she loved him. She knelt between his knees and grasped him.
His instinct and her fingers had him pushing his hips up to her greedy little hands. God, what it would feel like to have those lips on his cock. He groaned at the thought. And as if she were reading his mind, she scooted down further and lay on her stomach. Her eyes made contact with him, and those eyes glowed with power as she delicately licked the tip.
Again, Jonathan released a hiss of air. He wanted nothing more than to fuck her mouth. But he allowed her to take the lead, risking losing all of his control to this woman. He’d already gambled away his heart. When her tongue slid along his shaft, the moan of frustration that escaped him could not be repressed. He wanted to watch her take his cock into her mouth.
And again, it was like she could read his mind. She did just that. His cock jumped at the heat of her mouth as she took him deeper.
“Argh!” The sound escaped once more without his consent. Her lips slid back up and then down. Her tongue swirling around him kept him gasping, craving more of her fuckable mouth. When her hand circled the base and she began to stroke him in time to the movements of her mouth, Jonathan felt the tightness in his balls. It was torture. Fucking heavenly torture. Torture he never wanted to end. But his body once more betrayed him. He rocked his hips and reached down to take a fistful of her hair so he could control the pace. He knew what his body needed. Her. Her mouth, and her sweet pussy.
He was about to come and warned her. She just kept right on sucking his cock, gripping him tighter and pulling him in deeper. The explosion that took him was fierce. He spilled his seed inside her hungry mouth, and she sucked him hard, and dry.
“Oh, fuck Aliya. You can do that again any time you want,” he stated as he gripped her from under her arms and pulled her up along his body.
His lips crashed onto hers. Aliya was thrilled she’d been able to do this for him. But Jonathan wasn’t done with her. When she felt his cock beginning to stir, he rolled her over so she was underneath, then he climbed off of her. She felt the pang of loss, but it was momentary. He popped the cork on the champagne sending a flume of the honeyed liquid up into the air which he expertly caught. He poured two glasses and handed her one as she sat up on one elbow to receive it.
“To you. To us,” he toasted and took a sip of his drink after touching the rim to her glass.
“To you. To us.” She repeated the simple toast. He took her glass and set it down, but filled his once more. She saw the glint of mischief before she realized what he planned to do.
“Take off your bra and panties. Then lie back, Aliya.” His tone was husky, full of desire for her, and she complied, willing to do anything with this man. She would travel to the ends of the earth for him.
He stood beside her as she got comfortable on the bed. Then he lifted the glass above her and dropped a few drops on each nipple. The cold made her already hard nipples get harder. She gasped as the liquid trickled down her breasts. Next, he poured a few drops between her breasts, sprinkling a path down to her abdomen filling her belly button with the cool liquid that quickly warmed. He looked then at her pussy, and she witnessed his cock straighten and stand at attention as he contemplated his next moves. But instead of pouring more of the champagne there, he set the glass down and then returned his attention to her pussy.
As he gazed at her slick pussy, Aliya parted her legs giving him an even greater view. He could see she was already wet. And he wanted to taste her. The real her. His hand reached for her hip and he trailed his hand down to between her legs before cupping her. Her gasp of delight at his claiming her mound had his cock hard and ready, throbbing. He slipped one finger inside and felt her wetness, but he stroked her clit for a moment to hear her purr for him. Lifting the finger to his mouth he tasted her juices and knew how sweet heaven was. Getting in the bed beside her as she whimpered over the loss of his finger, he quickly gave her what she needed, desired and craved. His mouth found one waiting breast, and he clamped around the nipple pulling the sweet bud into his mouth. She arched her back into it, and grasped his head, holding him to her.
He pulled the nipple with his teeth, elongating the sensitive bud and that elici
ted another cry of pleasure from Aliya. She was beginning to squirm. “I need you. I need more,” she cried out almost painfully.
He knew she was ready so he began to trace the trail of the champagne lingering over her belly button while he used one hand to part her folds and once more began to stroke her clit. She was panting and he knew she was close, but he had yet to taste her nectar, so he positioned himself between her thighs and replaced his finger with his tongue.
“Oh God, yes, yes,” she cried as she began to gyrate her hips. He chanced a glance up her body and saw she was grasping her own breasts, plucking her own nipples and that made him even wilder with desire. There was nothing like seeing a woman touch herself. He needed to be inside of her. Crawling back up her body he reached for the drawer, his jagged breathing matching his urgency. He pulled out the foil packet, tore it open and Aliya’s hand took the sheath from him, sliding it down his length.
There was no waiting then. As soon as the condom was on, he scooted back down into position and plunged deeply inside her heat. He felt her already trembling. Her pussy walls clutching and squeezing him, taking him deeper. He pulled out against the sweet friction and plunged in again. And again. Fucking her deeply. He found his rhythm and pounded into her in his rush to find his release with her. He slammed into her over and over again, the sound of his balls slapping against her drove him on, until she screamed, and that was all it took. He plunged in once more as the contractions of her pussy sent him over the precipice.
They reached nirvana together. Then they slept. Blissfully. In each other’s arms.
*
Aliya was in the shower while Jonathan finished dressing. He glanced at his cell phone and saw he had missed a call from the front desk. A Mr. Risolli had arrived earlier than expected and was sent to the rooms Jonathan had reserved for him. Marco Risolli headed an independent firm of accountants that Jonathan had heard about from his sister. She had interned there and respected the firm greatly. He’d called them last week and made arrangements for them to come. But last night, he’d called again. For a hefty fee, they had agreed to come and examine his books. Immediately. After speaking with Simon yesterday, he knew something was off. It had been a gut reaction, and one he was feeling good about as he finished dressing.
Chances (Mystic Nights #1) Page 11