The Grumpy Boss Cowboy Billionaire

Chapter 18

Victor

My arms shook as I rested my sweaty palms on my knees. I probably should have eaten breakfast this morning. I had taken to setting alarms on my phone to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, to drink water, and to excuse myself to use the bathroom. Between the numbness that her departure had left in my chest and the doubled workload of a ship without a captain, I couldn’t feel anything anymore.

“Victor, are you feeling alright?” Claire’s hands landed on my shoulders and she massaged gently, a sensation which churned my stomach, despite its good intentions.

“I’m fine,” I lied, shrugging off her hands.

She looked like I had slapped them away for an instant before her face smoothed over to her professional mask. She straightened her shoulders, pushing out her ample chest, her cleavage peeking out of her low-cut top. I felt nothing but annoyance towards it.

“Did you try her again?” I asked.

Her face pinched in an ugly scowl for the briefest instant. “Her cellphone is still going straight to voicemail. Her answering machine at her house is full, and the dig supervisor is threatening to send us a cease and desist if we don’t stop calling. Emma doesn’t want to talk to you or anyone here.”

I dropped into my office chair and cupped my face in my hands. I couldn’t think without her, about the project, about the future. I thank the heavens that she left such detailed renovation plans and instructions with all the contact information for each vendor before she ran.

As I looked over the information she had written out by hand, I wondered for the ten-thousandth time if I hadn’t judged her too quickly, been too quick to dismiss her investment in the project. She had done more than the fifty-thousand dollars’ worth that I had sent to her. This renovation never would have gotten this far had she not been so invested. Claire was still hovering near the corner of my desk, leg angled tastefully to give me a view of her curves.

Since Emma had left, Claire’s demeanor towards me had shifted, becoming very touchy and familiar, which was off-putting in more ways than one, as she was married to one of my only friends left from Harvard. I swiveled my chair, putting the armrest between myself and her legs, hoping it would put some more distance between us.

“That should be all for today, Claire. Thanks for your help.”

She gave me a wolfish grin. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”

I raised my eyebrows, trying desperately to cling to the last of my manners. “I’ll call Charlie if I need to get a hold of you.”

"No need." She frowned at the mention of her husband, then shrugged. “I’ll keep my phone close.”

She closed the door behind her and I listened to hear her leave the mansion. When I heard the exterior door close, I opened my phone and dialed the number for the private investigator I had hired at the recommendation of my father. He answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“It’s Victor Sullivan, just wanted to know if there had been any updates?”

His voice was gruff as he responded. “As a matter of fact, there is some new information that came to light. When would you be available to meet in person?”

I racked my brain, trying to think about my schedule. The next week was back-to-back with final details before opening. I had no less than six design meetings tomorrow.

“Would you be able to come out here to the park tomorrow afternoon? I should be able to sit down with you between vendors.”

“Two-thirty work?”

“Yes! Perfect.” I hung up.

The clock read eleven o’clock and I thought about getting myself a drink, to try and lull myself into fitful sleep of any kind. The nights since she’d left me alone in this big empty house had been pretty restless, giving me lots of time to work on redecorating. I opened my apps again and went to her social media. Her public photos showed image after image of her having a fabulous time heading up this dig in Sedona.

Picture after picture of her in her Bermuda shorts, holding delicate artifacts on kid gloves, using a toothbrush to unearth ancient remains. She looked...happy. My heart sank as I realized how she must have actually moved on, that the park, the renovation, and I were firmly in her rearview.

I clicked the button to shut off the screen and straightened to standing, heading upstairs to try and sleep. Tomorrow was another busy day.

While I was far from rested, my realization had brought some sleep to me, at least knowing that she was taking care of herself and her heart, knowing her life was moving forward, brought me enough comfort to let me rest.

The morning meetings flew by and I managed to snag a bologna and cheese sandwich for lunch before heading into my afternoon design sessions for dishware, napkins, and interior textiles. The private investigator appeared at the door of the dining hall, and I ended the meeting I was in, excusing everyone to their respective tasks before approaching him and giving him a firm handshake.

“Thanks for coming all the way out here. It’s been...hectic.”

The investigator glanced around at the room, which had evolved considerably since he’d initially been hired. “Dr. Pierce did all this planning before she left?”

I pursed my lips, trying not to fold in on myself at the pain the mention of her brought me, nodding. He raised his eyebrows and gave the log beam rafters a second glance. “Quite a lady.”

“She is that.” I closed my eyes and nodded again.

Opening them up, I met his gaze. “You said you had some new information for me.”

He headed over to one of the saloon tables and took a seat, withdrawing a padfolio from his briefcase.

“I brought over copies for you of all the information, but, unfortunately, due to the legality of the situation, there were certain steps I had to follow and notify authorities on, which I did this morning. They assured me that the warrants would be pushed through and they were planning on making an arrest today.”

I started, looking between him and the information. “Wait, what?”

He bobbed his head, flipping through a few pages, and produced a bank statement printout and several black and white photographs. “After a thorough investigation into the people who had direct access to all this information and your park, my team had narrowed our suspects down to yourself, your father, Dr. Pierce, and your assistant, Claire.”

I froze. “Claire?”

“Yes.” He sat forward, pointing to several lines of text. “Apparently, in addition to your trust paying for her cellphone and salary, your trust has paid for several expensive vacations over the past five years, funded several elaborate dinners and hotel stays, and numerous lavish shopping trips.”

He indicated with his fingers. “I flagged these transactions to run them past you.”

I felt my eyes widen when I looked over the dollar amounts. No wonder Charlie had looked guilty over the years whenever I had offered to pay for our rounds of golf. His wife had spent more than half a million dollars of my trust money on her, her friends, and her husband over the time I’d employed her.

“Additionally, we flagged this transaction: a large influx of money about seven weeks ago.”

My stomach felt like it was going to fall out—she had deposited eighty-thousand dollars two days before the soft opening, two days before the fire. "From the trust?"

"No." He took a deep breath. “We pulled the bank footage and confirmed that she did in fact deposit it herself, and we got another lead on the sabotage as well.” He offered the black and white images.

In the photos, there were frame by frame, timestamped pictures of Claire entering the bag, sitting down, and receiving a large bag of cash from none other than Frederick Hastings The Third. My head was spinning.

“What are the charges?”

“Currently she is looking at arson, conspiracy to commit arson, fraud, embezzling, as well as a number of other smaller charges.”

My mind was reeling. Claire was the mole? I turned to him, uncertain on how to word myself.

“What did you find on Emma Pierce?”

The investigator consulted his notes. “It seems Ms. Pierce has invested herself in this project…the initial funds that you paid her went to the house note in Sedona…It looks like of the other forty-five grand that you sent her, she donated about a third to the Native American tribal sponsorships for your park.” He continued to skim the pages. “It appears she purchased a used Toyota Camry as well.”

“Dr. Pierce.” I bit back a breathless laugh. Of course she did. “But she’s clean?”

He looked up at me, his mouth in a grim line. “As a whistle. Seems like an incredibly straightforward young lady.”

“That she is.” I shook my head in disbelief. I am such an idiot.

His phone rang and he answered wordlessly. He listened intently, then hung up. “The police are here, they’ve got their warrants.”

I jumped up to my feet, and he stood. “Where?”

“The front gate.”

We met the police officers at the entrance, and I waved them in, to the main house of the park, where the office was located. I opened the door for them, directing them to my office, where Claire was currently working on filing purchase orders.

“Mrs. Griffin, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

"What?" She frowned and looked at me, forcing a smile under her still furrowed brow. "Victor, what is this?"

I shook my head and didn't respond.

The officer continued as he pulled out the cuffs. "You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you. If you decide to answer questions now without an attorney present, you have the right to stop at any time until you talk to an attorney. Do you understand these rights as they've been explained to you?”

“I do.” She gritted her teeth.

My skin felt too tight as I watched the police lead her away. I stepped forward and put out a hand, a question burning on my tongue.

“Claire, please." I swallowed hard. "I don’t understand. Can you just tell me why?”

She scoffed, shaking a strand of her copper hair out of her eyes. “Oh please. After all these years? Letting me clean up mess after mess, your trail of broken women, knowing I was just another casualty, another notch in your bedpost?” The police officers urged her forward, walking her towards their vehicles.

I stopped short, considering. “But you’ve never said anything before. And you have Charlie!”

Her steps faltered slightly as her eyes grew distant.

“Charlie.” She glanced back over her shoulder at me. “He’s a good man, the best husband a woman could ever ask for.”

“Exactly! You are much better off with him than you ever would have been with me.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Victor, come on. Charlie was a consolation prize. You introduced me to him so that you wouldn’t have to think about the fact that we slept together.”

“‘Hell hath no fury,’” The officer closest to me murmured as he gestured for Claire to sit in the back of the patrol car.

Her eyes grew serious as they met mine.

“Don’t tell Charlie what I did.”

They slammed the car door shut, and pulled away from the curb.

The investigator placed the file in my hand. “You’ll be receiving an invoice for my services. Good luck to you, Mr. Sullivan.”

An hour later found me on I-seventeen, headed north in my Land Rover, windows down, blasting In This Moment from my speakers. “‘My promise is I will hurt you…my promise is I will hurt you…’”

As I pulled off the highway, I plugged the address of the dig site into my GPS, following it to the barren desert just north of the city proper. The large canvas tent billowed in the hot wind, flapping wildly. I made my way to the door of the largest and stepped inside. Several dozen people milled around busily inside, moving between tables with artifacts and equipment, emitting various chirps and beeps. I approached a young lady who was making frustrated faces at the nearest instrument.

“Excuse me?”

She started when she saw me, blushing furiously. “Uh, hi.”

I gave her my best smile. “I’m looking for Dr. Pierce?”

“Victor.” Emma’s stern voice froze me.

I turned to face her and felt weak in the knees at the sight of her. Her wild coilly hair was piled on the top of her head and tied in a bandana, and she wore a denim button-down that was knotted at her middle with her signature Bermuda shorts. She motioned for me to follow her through the tent, back out into the heat and wind, to the dig site. It was the heat of the day, which meant the actual digging was postponed for safety purposes, I assumed. When we were alone, she faced me.

“What are you doing here, Victor?”

I opened my mouth, and raised my hand, itching to touch her, before closing my mouth and licking my lip, clutching my hand into a fist before dropping it back to my side. I swallowed hard.

“I came here to tell you that I know you weren’t the mole.”

She shrugged in annoyance. “I know that. I told you that.”

I bobbed my head in agreement. “I know, and I didn’t believe you. I didn’t trust you.”

She clenched her jaw, hurt filling her eyes before she sighed. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“It does matter, Emma.” Her eyes moved up to meet mine as I continued, “Claire was the mole.”

“Hah! That tracks.” She scoffed, throwing her head back and rolling her eyes.

I furrowed my brow and looked at her in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

She pinned me with a look. “She spent all of her time making eyes at you and being catty towards me. Any time I asked her to help me with anything, she made a point to tell me that she was your assistant, not mine, and she didn't take orders from me.”

I closed my eyes, shaking my head, releasing a sigh of resignation. “Turns out she’s been embezzling money from me for years. And that she accepted a bribe from Fred Hastings to sabotage the soft opening.”

Emma frowned at that. “Hastings is a shrewd businessman, but I don’t think he’d stoop to that level—breaking the law? Even he isn’t daft enough to do that.”

I shrugged, gesturing at the dig site. “You must have confidence in that, because your conscience was clear enough to take the job here, at his funded site.”

She scowled at me. “I took an opportunity to better my career, and my research, to study ancient people and lost civilizations. I really don’t care much whose money is paying for it, because our findings are making the world a better place.”

It was hard not to be bitter. Who was I kidding? Of course, she had moved on, she had her career and her life, and now, a new adventure. Meanwhile, I had nothing more to offer her. I didn't deserve a second chance, and I couldn't bring myself to ask for one.

I put my hands up in surrender. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m happy for you, Emma, I truly am. I’m glad to see you so successful.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and as I leaned forward, she didn’t recoil. I touched the barest kiss to her cheek and felt my heart break a little more. She closed her eyes and a tear that had been hiding on her lower lid, trailed down her cheek.

“I wish you the best life, Dr. Pierce." I forced a sad smile as I brushed my hand down the side of her face. "You deserve it.”

I stepped past her and headed back through the tent, out toward my jeep and she called after me.

"Victor..."

My heart almost stopped as I turned to take one last look.

She offered a genuine smile through teary eyes. "You deserve to be happy too, you know."

With a final nod, I swallowed my sadness and forced one foot in front of the other. As I got into the driver's seat, I shot one last backward glance at the site, before buckling in and pulling back onto the road. It had never been harder to walk away from something, and I couldn’t wish away the pain. I wasn't sure I believed her when she said I deserved to be happy. But I wasn't holding on just to punish myself. The pain reminded me that what I'd felt for her had been real.

I was capable of loving someone. I knew that because I loved her, and even if I'd messed it up, that was worth something. It changed everything. It changed me. And that wasn't something I was ready to let go of.