The Pretend Girlfriend (42 page)

"Many of them are tax documents," he said, "Others are for bank accounts over in Switzerland and a few other places." The way he said it made it sound like they should gasp in shock or something.

Instead, the women gave him a matching pair of blank stares.

"Henry has been..." he glanced around, looking for the right metaphor, "...Cooking the books for Carbide Solutions. Making it look like the company earns more than it does. He also happens to be diverting a large amount of funds into a group of numbered bank accounts."

Tax fraud and embezzling? That was the big secret? Intellectually, Gwen knew that it really was a big deal. It was just that the soap opera-enjoying part of her felt let down by the banality of the secret.

"So... you're going to Capone him?" Beatrice said.

Aiden squeezed the bridge of his nose and then chafed at his eyes. "I don't know... Samuel was right. This is enough to put Carbide Solutions out of business. And definitely enough to put Henry in prison for a long, long time."

Gwen grasped Aiden's misgivings. If for some reason Henry didn't just accept the blackmailing right away, or thought Aiden was bluffing, it meant the end of everything they'd both worked so long and hard to build. It wouldn't be just a company they'd be destroying, it would be the foundation of the lives.

"Are you sure we should do this?" Gwen asked. She wanted Henry to leave them alone, but the cure was worse than the disease. She didn't think she had it in herself to utterly decimate someone's life like that. Not even if the life in question was Henry Manning's.

"I say take him down!" Beatrice interjected with her usual gusto and cutthroat attitude.

Aiden took the phone back and scrolled quickly through the documents again. He breathed in a deep breath, his shoulders rising, then let it out rush from him, blowing his cheeks out. "I do, too."

T
he more thought Gwen put into it, the more she hated this idea.

They'd managed to get back to their hotel room without running into more cameras and reporters. Beatrice had taken one look out the window, spotted the bar, and told them since they'd denied her a drink back at Samuel's penthouse, she was going over to grab one now.

That left Gwen and Aiden alone. He sat in the wingback chair, obsessively scrolling through the documents sold to him as though he still couldn't quite believe the contents contained therein.

"Are you sure this is what we should be doing?" Gwen said, finally giving voice to her anxieties. "I mean, we managed to get back to the hotel without a problem. Maybe they're starting to get bored and lay off?"

"So what if they are?" Aiden said, gritting his teeth. The sudden flash of anger from him shocked her. He was normally so collected and even-tempered, so mature and thoughtful.

"It's just that, if they are, maybe that means we have the time to come up with something else. Or who knows? Maybe Henry's called them off?"

"No," Aiden replied.

"No?"

"That doesn't matter. Can't you see, Gwen? Sure, maybe the paparazzi got bored with us. Maybe we got lucky and they haven't been able to find us. But that
doesn't matter
. Because if this doesn't work, Henry will move onto the next plan. And if that fails, then another one. He just won't stop." Aiden grew angrier as he spoke, until he practically shouted the final sentence.

Gwen shrunk back from him. She'd never seen him like this.

When he saw his effect on her, he deflated. Sitting down on the bed, he reached a tentative hand out to touch her foot. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled like that. It's never okay to speak like that. Not with someone you love, especially. Forgive me?"

"I do," Gwen said. She could tell that he genuinely meant what he said. It was just his father's effect on him that brought this out. "That tickles!" she said, jerking her foot back from his stroking fingers.

"You have to believe me when I say that this is the only way I think even has a chance of working," he said.

"But what if he makes you use it! The company..."

He nodded, understanding her implications perfectly. "We'll just have to hope that he comes to his senses about this."

"But if he doesn't, and you do use it, what about all your charity work? What about all the things you hoped to accomplish?"

He shook his head. That would all be gone, too. She could see the hurt in his eyes at that thought.

"If he pushes you, will you release it?" Gwen asked, not wanting to hear the answer, but needing to know at the same time. She got a quick flash of their life together. He'd be out of a job, definitely. He'd probably be called to court to testify and whatnot. That would complicate things.

At least they'd be together, she knew. Even if he was penniless, she'd still want to be with him. But she didn't like the changes she imagined he'd go through, having to experience the likely very public tearing down of his own life. He didn't deserve that sort of treatment, even if Henry did.

Aiden replied, "I hope I don't have to. I think the best way to go about this is the Band-Aid solution."

"The what?"

"You know, tearing it off quickly so that it hurts less?"

Gwen hated that. She usually spent a good five minutes psyching herself up to rip the things off, trying to convince herself that it really would hurt much less than slowly peeling it off. And she was in her twenties now!

Still, it made sense. Why psych themselves out worrying over what-ifs? Better to try it and discover the what-is, the reality of the situation. She nodded in agreement, threading her fingers together and squeezing them tightly. Seeing her anxiety, Aiden put one hand over hers.

And then he called Henry, putting it on speakerphone for her benefit.

Gwen kind of wished Beatrice could be here for this. One, because B would definitely enjoy it. Two, because she could definitely use the support of her best friend right about now. Even if it meant a few smart mouthed comments and jokes.

It rang twice. "Henry Manning's office. How may I help you?" the secretary answered.

"It's Aiden," he said, "I'd like to speak with my father immediately." Even when he made demands he was polite about it.

Silence came from the other end of the line while the secretary considered the situation. She probably knew at least in part about what was going on. She might also know that Aiden and Gwen had gone to ground, and that this call could be some sort of official surrender from them.

"He's in a meeting right now. I'll see if he's available," she replied.

"Please do."

She put them on hold. Some bombastic bit of classical music began playing.

"Wagner," Aiden identified, shaking his head.

They waited long enough that Gwen began wondering if there might be time enough for a bathroom break. She started tapping her foot.

Aiden noticed. "It's just another business tactic. Making us wait. It's supposed to make us frustrated and throw us off balance. Just relax. He'll be on within fifteen seconds. I'd bet my life on it."

By now, Gwen knew better than to question him on that. With all these various business tactics, Henry could probably make a killing writing them all into a book.

A countdown started in her head. The hold music stopped when she reached Four. Adrenaline squirted into her system, leaving her shaking. This was it.

"I see you've discovered that you can't hide forever," Henry said. His voice sounded just as imposing coming from the tiny speakers on the phone as it did when she stood in his office. How does he do that? Gwen wondered.

"We've managed well so far," Aiden said, "However, that isn't why I've contacted you."

"Oh, do tell. The suspense is killing me," Henry replied, the phone adding to his sarcastic tone.

Aiden read out a series of numbers, which he had apparently memorized. Gwen figured they were the secret bank accounts.

They waited a few moments, but Henry didn't respond. So Aiden filled the silence. "I also know about that little tax trick you've been exploiting. I'm sure the IRS would love to question you about it. Not to mention the board of directors."

Sharp sounds came out of the phone. It took Gwen a second to recognize clapping. "Congratulations. So, you're going to sell out your own father, I take it?"

"I don't want to. That's up to you. So long as you agree to call this off and leave Gwen and me to do as we please..."

Henry started laughing. It continued for an awkwardly long time, and Gwen could picture the older man wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

"No, you won't. I know what sort of man you're pretending to be, and it isn't the kind that blackmails their own father. Thank you for staying on the line so long to give me your location. I know a few enterprising photographers who will love that information."

Gwen resisted the urge to go over to the window to check for helicopters. However, it wasn't so hard to do. Not with her shock. She'd been somehow certain, after that talk with Aiden, that Henry would accept the ceasefire and back down.

Aiden swallowed heavily. His face became flushed, and Gwen knew that he'd thought the same thing.

"Then I'm sorry, Henry. I'll be forwarding this information to my lawyer after I end this call. He'll see to it that the appropriate parties get access."

With a final chuckle, Henry hung up on them.

***

"T
his will finish it, at least," Aiden said. He'd attached the files to an email meant for his lawyer, as well as instructions on what to do with the information.

He'd also spent the last hour sitting in that wingback chair, his thumb hovering over the send button. The phone kept going dark and trying to lock on him, so he had to keep touching the screen.

Again, Gwen wished Beatrice were here. That drink she'd talked about having had probably multiplied to half a dozen or so by now. Or perhaps she'd met a guy. Either way, she wasn't answering calls or texts, and certainly wasn't at Gwen's side where she needed her most.

"There's got to be another way," Gwen said.

Aiden shook his head. "We've been over this. There isn't. Henry thinks he's called my bluff. If I don't do this, he will know that he can do whatever he wants to us and that we won't do anything back but complain. This is the only thing he understands: power, forcing people into doing what you want them to do."

Ah, yes
, Gwen thought,
the lifelong father-son conflict resurfaces once more.
She wondered how many times in the past Henry had utterly crushed his son's efforts at resisting his will. And all this some sort of misguided revenge on Henry's part for the grievances he clutched onto surrounding his wife's passing.

These two really needed some family counseling. Or even just an honest-to-God heart-to-heart sometime.

"So why aren't you sending it? What's stopping you?" Gwen said.

Aiden struggled to answer, the frustration twisting his handsome face.

Gwen answered for him. "It's because you're not like your father, Aiden. And doing this would make you like him. You know that's wrong. That's why you can't make yourself send those documents."

"I'm sorry!" Aiden said. He tossed the phone onto the bed and buried his face in his hands, running his fingers up into his hair. "I'm sorry, I can't do it. I don't know what to do..."

She went to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders even as her heart throbbed in painful empathy for him. This had to be so difficult. But she loved him more for his decision, because it was the right one, despite not being the easy one. "It's okay. We'll figure something out. This is meant to be. It will work out."

Aiden's phone started buzzing on the bed. Going over, Gwen picked it up and glanced down at the screen. She frowned.

"It's the Beth Israel Medical Center," she said, handing him the cell.

N
o one really knows how they'll react when something happens to a close family member. Not even a family member you think you hate. People think they'll behave one way, but when it comes down to it, you just can't know.

So went Gwen's thoughts as they rushed through the lobby of the emergency room, running up to the desk where the nurse sat. She hardly noticed the antiseptic smell of the place, or the harsh white fluorescent lights running along the ceiling. She hardly thought about how much she hated hospitals, and her secret fear of going to them. People only went to hospitals because they were sick or hurt, or because they needed to go see someone who was themselves sick or hurt.

He wasn't even her father, and Gwen still felt shell-shocked, empty and disconnected. Almost as though she watched herself from some outside perspective. She had no idea how Aiden felt within. He'd hardly said anything since taking the call.

"Henry Manning," he said to the nurse, breathless, "I'm his son."

The nurse, an older woman with her grey-streaked hair tied back in a tight bun, knew how to do her job well. She addressed him calmly while she checked her computer.

"Yes, he arrived here about half an hour ago. I have him listed in emergency surgery."

Cold fingers squeezed themselves around Gwen's heart. All Aiden had been able to tell her was that there had been a car accident.

"Is... Is he going to live?" Aiden said.

The nurse smiled at him, sympathy in her voice. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know. He was listed in critical condition when he came in. If you go to the waiting room, a doctor will be out to speak with you as soon as they can. You're his son?" When Aiden nodded, she pulled a clipboard with an attached pen out from under her desk. "I'll need you to start filling out these forms."

"Are you sure it doesn't tell you anything else?" Aiden said, trying to lean over the desk so he could see the computer, too. Gwen eased him back gently, grabbing the clipboard for him and telling the nurse it would be completed. She led him through the white hallways, following the signs and arrows for the waiting room.

Thankfully, the rows of chairs within were mostly empty. A few crisp magazines waited in bins on the coffee tables scattered about the room. They didn't look read. Gwen understood why. You couldn't do something so casual as reading a magazine while waiting for the news from the OR, no matter how much you wanted to distract yourself.