Lightning (42 page)

Phillip Smith looked at him very coolly. “Is that true?” Sam hated to admit it to him, and it shocked him to realize that Alex had known then. But he knew he had to be honest, as awkward as it was in front of Alex.

“Yes, it is true. It's the woman I told you about. Simon's cousin, Daphne Belrose.”

“Is she implicated too?”

“Not yet, but she's afraid she will be. She's talking about going back to England the minute anything happens.”

“That would be very foolish,” Smith said in stern tones, “it will make her an immediate fugitive, and they could very well extradite her from England. What is your situation with her now?”

“I'm living with her,” he said, feeling like a complete jerk, “at least I was until this morning.”

“I see.” He nodded, taking it all in. “Well, Mr. Parker, I'd like some time to digest this, and let's see what the grand jury does. When do you testify before them?”

“In two days.”

“That gives us some time to decide on a course of action.” He didn't look pleased with the case and he didn't look as though he liked Sam, but he was willing to take the case for Alex. There was no question in his mind, it was going to be an interesting one, and a big one. Phillip Smith left them alone in the conference room then, and told Sam he'd call him in the morning. He told Alex he'd call her. And the two were left alone, to face each other. It was the first time they'd been alone since before the summer.

“I'm sorry. I didn't know how much you knew,” he said, looking genuinely pained, and unusually humble.

“I knew enough,” she said sadly, not wanting to talk about it with him. There was no point any longer. No matter what the remaining bond, or the child they shared, their marriage was over.

“I think you're in deep water, Sam. Very deep water. I'm sorry all of this happened. I hope Phillip can help you.”

“So do I.” And then, with an expression of real unhappiness he looked across the table at her. “I'm sorry about dragging you into any of this, embarrassing you in any way. You don't deserve this.”

“Neither do you. You deserved a good kick in the ass,” she smiled sadly. “But not this hard.”

“Maybe I did,” he said miserably, consumed with guilt for everything he'd done to her. “When did you find out about Daphne?” He wanted to know now.

“I saw you come out of Ralph Lauren with her just before Christmas. The way you looked together said everything. It wasn't very difficult to figure the rest out. I guess, like you with Simon, I didn't want to see it. It was too painful, and I had too many other things to worry about.” It had been devastating, but she didn't say it. He knew just by looking at her, and he wished he could have turned the clock back, and changed things. But it was way too late now.

“I think I lost my mind for a while. All I could think of was when my mother died and what it had been like. I somehow got it into my head that you were her and you were going to die and take me with you, like my father. I panicked. Kind of like an insane déjà vu. I stopped thinking clearly and all my childhood rage at my mother came back on you. I was truly crazy. I suppose the affair with Daphne was crazy too. It was my way of hiding from reality. But I hurt everyone in the process. I don't even know what to think now. I don't know if she set me up, or if it was real. It's a terrible feeling. I'm not even sure I know her.” But he knew Alex, and how badly he had hurt her. And he hated himself for it. He knew now that he would pay for it for a lifetime.

“Maybe things happen the way they're meant to, Sam,” she said philosophically. It was too late for them, but at least he had come to his senses finally, and he also understood why he had hurt her. It had all been wrapped up in his terror of losing her, as he had his mother.

“I imagine you want out now,” he said, reading her perfectly, but as she looked at him, so vulnerable, so hurt, so scared, his future so uncertain, she couldn't bring herself to press him.

“We can talk about it after you sort out your problems.” It didn't seem fair to dump that on him now, too. Despite Brock's eagerness for the divorce, there was really no great hurry. A month or two wouldn't make that much difference.

“You deserve so much better than I gave you,” he said miserably. For a moment he was going to say more but wisely made no move to approach her. He appreciated her graciousness, and didn't want to abuse it.

And she couldn't disagree with what he was saying to her. But she understood it a little better now. And fortunately, she had had Brock to get her through it.

“Maybe you didn't have a choice,” she said fairly. “Maybe you couldn't help it.”

“I should have been kicked. I was such a damn fool.”

“You'll get out of this, Sam,” she said gently. “You're a good man, fundamentally, and Phillip's a damn fine attorney.”

“So are you, and a good friend,” he said, fighting back tears as they stood across the conference room table from each other.

“Thanks, Sam,” she said with a smile. “I'll keep track of what's happening. Call me if you need me.”

“Kiss Annabelle for me. I'll try to see her this weekend, if I'm not in jail,” he said ruefully, and she smiled at him from the doorway.

“You won't be. See ya.”

She went back to her office, and Brock was waiting for her. He was pacing again and very anxious. He knew she'd been in the conference room with Sam again. Liz had told him. And he'd seen Phillip leaving.

“Did you tell him?”

“More or less. He said he imagined I wanted a divorce, and I said we'd talk about it when he sorted this mess out.”

'What?
Why didn't you tell him you want it
now}”
Brock was furious and she looked exasperated and exhausted. It was draining sitting there, discussing why their marriage had failed and also very upsetting, especially knowing how much trouble he was in. It was going to be very traumatic for Annabelle if he went to prison.

“I didn't tell him I wanted it now, because it doesn't make any difference if we file this month or next for heaven's sake. We're not going anywhere. Let's have a little respect for the guy, or at least compassion. He's under a grand jury indictment for embezzlement and fraud. He has just come home from Europe to find that out. And after seventeen years of marriage, and one child, I think I can give him a few weeks' grace to deal with his other problems.”

“How gracious was he with you last year? How ‘compassionate’? Do you remember?” he barked at her, which was unusual for him. She thought he was acting like a child, but she didn't say so.

“I remember it perfectly. But I still don't think I have to hit him over the head with it. It's over, Brock. It doesn't matter when we get the death certificate. My marriage to Sam is dead. We both know that.”

“With that sonofabitch, don't be so sure. And if his bimbo walks out on him, he'll be back knocking on your door in no time. I saw the way he looked at you today.”

“Oh for heaven's sake, stop it! That's utterly ridiculous.” She refused to discuss it with him any longer. He went back to his office in a fury, and she didn't see him again until they left the office together at seven o'clock that evening. But even then, Brock was in a bad mood, and he sulked at her all through dinner. She had never seen him behave that way, and it took endless cajoling to finally get him to stop it.

But at their penthouse on Fifth Avenue, Daphne was behaving no better with Sam. In fact, she was slamming doors, breaking glasses, and throwing things, and Sam was not finding her amusing.

“How dare you accuse me of that, you bastard!” she shouted at him. “How dare you accuse me of letting you up,' as you put it. I wouldn't stoop to a thing like that. What a cheap trick, to try and put your crimes on me. Well, don't think you'll get away with it. Simon's already said he's going to hire a lawyer for me if I need one. But I'm not going to sit still for that either. I'm going back to London if these ridiculous charges stick. I'm not going to sit around and watch you go to jail, and try and take me with you.”

“Actually, darling, I think you'd be pretty poor company, from the looks of all this.” He looked at the debris of broken objects around them, and he didn't have the energy to fight her anymore. “What would you think in my place? You dance me around your bed for the last year, very pleasantly, I might add, and all the while, Simon is destroying my business. It's hard to believe you knew nothing of what was happening, though I'd like to think you didn't. I found out that my wife knew about us all along, by the way. I must say, you have to give the poor woman credit. I gave her the worst deal any woman's ever had this side of hell, while she lies around half dead puking her brains out on chemo, and she's elegant enough not to admit she knows we're having an affair. Hats off to her. She's quite a lady.” Unlike Miss Daphne Belrose, he thought, but didn't say it.

“Why don't you go back to her then?” she asked, sitting on a black leather chair, and swinging one leg over the other, just enough for him to see what she had there. But he'd seen it before, and he was no longer bewitched. The spell had been broken.

“Alex is too smart to ever take me back,” he said quietly, in answer to Daphne's suggestion. “I don't blame her a bit. I think I at least owe it to her not to go near her.”

“Maybe you two deserve each other. Mr. and Mrs. Perfect. Mr. Honest. Mr. Pure, who had no idea how Simon was multiplying his business by millions. Just how naive are you, Sam? Or to be perfectly blunt, how stupid? Don't tell me you didn't know anything. I didn't help him set it up, but for God's sake, even I could figure out what was happening. Don't tell me you couldn't.”

“The incredible stupidity of it all is that I wasn't paying attention. I was so busy trying to get under your skirts that I never saw what was going on around me. You blinded me, my dear. I was a total fool, and I suppose I deserve what's happening.”

“Nothing's happening, Sam. It's all over. You're finished,” she said derisively, as though it amused her.

“I know I am. Thanks to Simon.”

“You won't get a job as a bank clerk when this is all over.”

“And you, Daphne? How do you feel about that? Will you be around to make my dinner when I get home from a pathetic little job somewhere, selling thumbtacks?” He was looking at her with total contempt, and spoke to her in a voice dripping with sarcasm. He knew just who she was now.

“I don't think so,” she said, uncrossing her legs again, showing him everything he had wanted. He had lost a lifetime for what she had between her legs, and it hardly seemed worth it. “The fun is over, Sam. It's time for me to move on. But it was fun, wasn't it?”

“Very much so,” he agreed, as she walked over to him slowly, and ran a hand inside his open shirt. She felt his nipples, and his chest, and his very firm stomach and he didn't move and then she tried to slide her hand slowly into his trousers, but he grabbed her hand before she got any further. It was the only thing they'd ever really had, raw sex, and a lot of it. But there was too high a price to pay for the pleasure.

“Will you miss me?” she asked, not pulling away from him, but on the contrary, moving closer. It was as though she wanted to prove something by casting a spell on him one more time, but he wouldn't let her.

“I'll miss you,” he said regretfully. “I'll miss the illusion.” He had traded real life for a fantasy, and he knew it. It was a bitter admission. And he had lost Alex in the process.

Daphne pressed her lips down hard on his, and held him with her hands until she could feel him throbbing and he kissed her with the last of his passion for her, and then pulled away and looked at her unhappily, realizing that he would never know if she had collaborated in his destruction or if it had all been done by her cousin. It was terrible not knowing.

“One last time,” she asked in a hoarse voice. She had grown to like him better than she meant to. She was not one to get involved, or stay that way forever. And with him it had been different. But even she knew, it was all over.

He shook his head in answer to her question. He left the apartment for a long, quiet walk then. He had a lot to think about. And he came back two and a half hours later. There was no sound when he came in. And when he looked around, she was gone. The apartment was as empty as his heart. She had taken everything he'd given her, and left him nothing, except memories and questions. That night on the eleven o'clock news, they announced that Simon Barrymore had been indicted by the grand jury on sixteen counts of embezzlement and fraud. There was no mention of his cousin and possible accomplice, Daphne Belrose, who was, at that very moment, on the red-eye to London.

Chapter 20

S
am's appearance before the grand jury was awesome and frightening. It took all day. And at the end of it, their indictments remained as they had been made. Samuel Livingston Parker was ordered to stand trial on nine different charges. Each of his partners had been charged with thirteen, and Simon Barry-more with sixteen.

Alex had not gone to the hearings with Sam. But she called him after she saw Phillip Smith back in the office.

“I'm sorry, Sam,” she said quietly. She had thought the indictments would stick. But now he would have to fight them, or plea-bargain in some way, in the hope of reducing the charges. The trial had been set for November 19, and they had three months to prepare their defense.

Phillip Smith had already drafted three of the firm's best lawyers to help him. Another firm was representing Larry and Tom, and someone Alex had never heard of was representing Simon.

“What about the girl?” Alex asked matter-of-factly. “They didn't get her at all. How'd she pull that off?”

“Luck, I guess.”

“She must be pleased,” Alex said coolly.

“I wouldn't know. She left for London. She figured the good times were over.” And she wasn't wrong. Sam knew what was in store for him. Success in the financial world was very fickle. Once the money and the hot deals were gone, and after a scandal like this, so was the respect and the recognition. He hadn't tried it yet, and had no immediate desire to, but he was sure that if he called La Grenouille or Le Cirque or the Four Seasons, all the reservations available to him would be at five-thirty and eleven-thirty, and the table would be in the kitchen. The champagne only flowed as long as the money.