The Singles (32 page)

I wanted to know what changed, but I moved my head up and down. “I’ll do it right now.”

“Good enough.” Holding her briefcase tightly against her body, she flicked her blue eyes up to mine and pinched her lips.  “Feel free to take the rest of the day off.”

“There’s nothing else you need me to do?”

She breezed past me gripping her purse and briefcase tightly. “No, there isn’t. Be here at nine thirty tomorrow, Ms. Connelly.”

*

I
worried all the way home over whether or not I’d made a mistake telling Oliver that Margaret was being investigated. Pen wasn’t around when I stepped into my apartment, but she’d left a short note on the refrigerator.

Off doing some work for my boss back in Vegas at the L.A. branch (yeah, I know you’re surprised). I’ll be in late this evening, so let me know if you want me to bring dinner.

––––––––

G
oing to my bedroom, I changed out of my office clothes, texting Oliver in the process.

What we talked about last night—that was private, right?

I was shrugging out of my pants and reaching for a pair of PINK sweats when he responded less than a minute later.

Easton is the only person who knows about you, but I would never share our private conversations with him. Is something wrong?

After I told him that everything was fine, he remained silent. For the next hour, I read over some of the files Pen had obtained on Finley Scott, searching for anything that might prove our suspicions right. Every few seconds, I glanced at my phone, hoping Oliver would message.

When a text finally did come through a couple hours later, I felt giddy as I checked it, but my excitement immediately dwindled when Linc’s name showed up on my screen. Apparently, now that he’d revealed himself, he had no issue messaging my Lizzie phone, which automatically set my teeth on edge.

Remember when you said you’d help? I’m ready for you now. Be at this address in an hour.

There was a part of me that wanted to hover my finger over the delete button and get rid of his message, but I needed this to be over. I needed the closure Oliver had suggested I get. A few seconds later Linc texted the address.

Releasing a sigh of defeat, I gathered the Finley paperwork and took it back to my bedroom where I returned it to the nightstand drawer overflowing with information. Then I re-dressed.

*

“I
s this your surveillance room,” I asked Linc an hour later when he let me into the hotel room just around the corner from Emerson & Taylor. “I always thought you all did that in a van.”

“We do have a van,” Linc said, none of the emotion he’d displayed at the end of last week present in his voice because some of his colleagues were around. “But for right now, we’re going to brief you here.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Margaret is leaving in a couple days.” This was a surprise to me, but I nodded nonetheless. “She’ll be in her office tonight. It’s time for us to finish this.”

“I’m ready,” I said. “Just tell me how to do this.”

––––––––

“I
’m still pissed at you,” I informed Linc as the technician ran a test on the watch they’d placed on my wrist. “I looked up to you like you were my brother, and you used me. You used Stella, too, but I doubt she realizes that.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he moved his head to either side. “Gemma, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The technician motioned for me to move around the hotel room, and I complied, keeping my scathing focus on Linc the entire time. “Let’s just get this over with. You already have enough, so what exactly do you need
me
to do?”

“Make sure she admits to the embezzlement.”

Releasing a frustrated cry, I spun around to face him. “Because I can just walk in and she’ll lay all her shit out on the table.”

“No.” Linc gave me a pleading look, and for a moment, I felt horrible for giving him such a hard time about this. He wanted Margaret put away just as much as I did, but did he have to completely hoodwink me to accomplish the task? “What you’re going to do is walk in there and tell her what you know. Tell her you’re prepared to offer your silence in exchange for—”

My breath caught, and I felt a scarlet flush dance across my skin. “So go in and be a gold-digging whore?”

“Gemma—”

“Don’t worry,” I cut him off sharply. “I’m all over it.”

*

“Y
ou’re working late,” I said with a tight smile as I sauntered into Margaret’s office a few hours later. I prayed that my movements were smooth—that the tremor I felt in my muscles wasn’t present in my voice. “Getting caught up for the holidays?”

She was on the phone, and she looked up from the paperwork on her desk. “Oliver, I’ll have to call you back.” Regarding me, Margaret stretched her mouth into a thin line. “Did you leave something in the office when I sent you home for the day?”

“I did.” Reaching inside my purse, the watch on my wrist clacked against my delicate bones when I withdrew the damning documents Linc had instructed me to give her. I shoved them across the desk until they wrinkled under her palm.

“What is this?”

“Just read it.”

Lifting the pages close to her face, she studied them carefully, her back gradually stiffening with silent rage.  “What do you think you’re doing, Ms. Connelly?”

“I know what you’ve been doing with the charity and company funds,” I stated confidently as I took the seat across from her, sat back, and crossed my legs. “If you can afford to give Michael Scott millions, you can afford my price. Unless, of course, you want me to go public with this.”

She flashed clenched porcelain veneers at me. “You little—”

“I’d prefer not to be called names,” I told her sharply. I pulled another piece of paper—a much smaller note—from my bag and tossed it in her direction. It fluttered to rest by her keyboard. Unfolding it, she glared down at the sum and the banking information. “Five million is a drop in the bucket for you.”

“You came to my company to spy on and extort me?” Her voice was low and dangerous, and I bit the inside of my lip.

Uncover, expose, and get the hell out of here,
I reminded myself, ignoring the desire to get up and leave right then and there.

“I came here because I loved fashion. And then I found out that you’ve turned an amazing brand into a pit of lies and corruption.” I pointed to the smaller paper. “
Now
I want you to pay me to keep those lies and corruption all to myself.”

Breathing heavily, she flicked her thumb over the edge of the post-it. I held my breath as she considered her options. Eventually, she waved her hand almost dismissively; reminding me of all the times she’d waved me out of her office. “Done.”

I swallowed the fear in my throat. “That simple?”

“Yes.” Her voice showed no sign of worry, and it pissed me off that she was this calm about what she and Michael Scott had done. “I have absolutely no patience when it comes to dealing with whores who march into my office with demands. If you had put half as much effort into your job, Ms. Connelly, you could have done great things with this company.”

“If you didn’t drive it into the ground before I got a chance.” At her icy stare, I leaned forward. “I want that money in my account tonight.”

“As I said before,
done
. Then you leave town, and you never mention my name again.”

“Deal.” I pulled my purse onto my shoulder. “I want to know one more thing before I go.”

Waiting for me to speak, she shifted her eyebrows. “What would that be?”

“When you and Michael Scott forged your late husband’s will—what made you think nobody would ever find out?”

Finally, an emotion other than anger crossed her features. She was afraid. Her nostrils flaring, she held my gaze—her blue eyes at war with my dark eyes. I knew that Linc was probably freaking out right now, but I didn’t care.

I’d done what he asked me to do, and now—now I was doing something for myself.

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded, shoving away from her desk. She stalked around to me, seething. “Just who the hell do you think you are?”

Although I stood to block her blows, her fingers dug into my shirt, jerking me to her. She grabbed my wrist, and slowly, realization dawned on her face. She closed her hand around the watch. “Who are you?”

“Get off!” I shoved her away, causing her to stumble into the desk, but not before she ripped the jewelry from my arm. She hurled it across the room, where it slammed into the wall and shattered into dozens of pieces.

“You were recording me,” she stated in a dull voice. “You’re not here for money at all.”

I shook my head, following her movements as she walked to the window. She was probably looking for the agents that were bound to show up at any minute now that she’d broken the wire.

“Gregory Emerson was my father,” I said.

“Gemma.” Both syllables dripped with scorn. “Gemma Emerson.”

“Yes. And I want to know why you changed my father’s will.”

When she finally spoke, her words chilled my blood. “Because he was a sorry son-of-a-bitch who deserved everything that happened to him.”

I took a step backward, my hands flying to my throat. “Margaret ... did you kill him?”

Suddenly, the call from Linc crept into my thoughts.
"My father died of a heart attack, and he left everything to his wife,"
I’d told him. But now, with her silence and what she’d said just a moment ago, I was almost one hundred percent sure I’d found another terrifying layer to the truth I’d been so desperate to uncover.

“You killed him,” I said again—this time my words a statement, the harsh reality of it slamming into me one damning blow at a time. Her comment echoed through my mind.

Your father deserved everything that happened to him.

She dropped her blond head against the window. Although her back was turned to me, I knew that if I could see her face right now, the expression I’d witness wouldn’t be one of denial. It would be disgust. Her thin shoulders shaking inside her immaculate designer dress, she curled her fingers on the glass. In spite of the brutal pulses pounding my ears, I heard her quiet weeping, but still there was no doubt in my mind she had murdered my dad.

Taking a shaky step away from her, I wrapped my arms over my stomach. “You
killed
him, and then you took
everything
from me.”

“He had it coming,” she muttered. Every muscle, every vein, in my body felt like it was slowly shutting down. Was it possible Linc was getting any of this? Or had I lost him when Margaret had ripped the watch off my wrist?

“Do you know what kind of man your father was, Gemma?” she questioned.

From everything I’d heard from Margaret and had discovered on my own over the past couple months, I did. My father had been a womanizer. He’d cheated on my mother and Margaret and probably his first wife too. But God, he hadn’t deserved to go before his time.

I took another step back and then a couple more. I couldn’t stand close to her. I
wouldn’t
.  Because the nearer I was to Margaret, the more likely I was to do something erratic before Linc burst through the French doors.

“How did you do it?” I rubbed my palm harshly over my chest, like the motion would somehow force the words to break through the painful lump that had formed in my windpipe. “How was it possible for you to get away with murder and still win everything?”

Margaret turned to me slowly, the corners of her cornflower blue eyes glistening with tears. “I. Didn’t. Win.” She stalked to her desk, bending over the massive structure of glass with her head down and her hair falling over her flushed face. “You think because you lost, I won? How incredibly selfish of you, child.”

Ignoring her jab, I clutched the white sculpture in the center of the office, holding on to it for support. All I had to do was keep her talking until Linc arrived. Screw with her head while every little word she said killed a piece of me.

“Why did you kill him?” I glanced at the remnants of the watch and tremulous cry of frustration ripped from the back of my throat. “There’s nothing stopping you from telling me the truth now, so you might as well get it out.”

Casting her own gaze down at the broken wire, a smile trembled her thin lips. “Then why does it matter if you can’t prove a damn thing I say at this point?”

She was right, it didn’t matter if I could prove whether or not she played a role in my dad’s death, but I wanted to sleep at night. I wanted to sleep knowing that every piece of this awful, heart-ripping puzzle had been shoved into place.

I dug my fingers into a jagged edge of the abstract sculpture and held my head high. “I’ve proven enough,” I sneered. “And if that sends your ass away for ten, fifteen years, that’s good enough for me. I can prove what you did to
me
. I can prove—”

Quicker than I could blink, my stepmother jerked open the top drawer of her desk, reaching inside. A flinch jerked through my body when the barrel of a pistol stared back at me. The triumphant twist of her mouth sent my pulse racing at an excruciating speed.  

She had a gun.

She had a gun, and she was pointing it right at me like she didn’t care that the FBI would burst in at any moment to take her down for everything she and Michael Scott had done over the last several years. I wanted to believe she wouldn’t use it—God, I wanted to believe that—but she was a captive animal right now, and that made her a terrifyingly dangerous force.

Placing her other hand on the pistol, she started around her desk, each tap of her heels on the onyx floor challenging the deafening thunder of my heartbeat.  “You broke into my business—” she began, sounding like she was trying to give herself permission to shoot me.

“It’s my company, Margaret,” I blurted out stupidly, letting go of the sculpture. Out the corner of my eye, I looked at the door, willing it to open. Linc had to know I was in trouble, right? He had to be on his way.

She inched closer until she was leaning against the front of her desk, her head cocked to one side. “You broke into my business, and you threatened me. You threatened my employees.
You
blackmailed me.”