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“I need to run, sweetheart,” I say.
“I can take an Uber. No problem. Go. Do your job.”
“You’re not taking an Uber,” I say, reaching in my pocket and setting a key on the counter. “Take the BMW.”
“No, I—”
“Sweetheart. Take the BMW. I’ll drive the Audi. The code to get into the house is 1588 in case you need to come back here. I could have a late night. I hope that I won’t.” I round the counter and pull her to me. “I’m sorry, and I said that because I want to say it. And I meant it when I said that I’m crazy for you, woman.”
“You said that I’m making you crazy.”
“That too,” I say, kissing her. “Enjoy today. You belong in the art world, and you belong with me.” I release her and head for the door, and as I step into the garage, I eye my custom BMW, my pride and joy, which Faith will be driving today. And I no longer care if Faith drives it as well as she rides me. I’ll let her keep the damn keys and the car, for all I care. If Abel heard me say that, he’d already be planning a wedding. And it might just take something that dramatic to make sure she doesn’t leave me.
Chapter Eighteen
Nick
I arrive at my office building in the financial district in fifteen minutes. I’m on my floor in another five to find Devon pacing in front of Rita’s desk, looking like he’s slept in the wrinkled mess that is what I know to be his standard ten-thousand-dollar suit—a symptom of his excess. While I enjoy luxury, there is a point where money starts to control you, not you it, and that can lead to trouble, which I saw coming a year ago with Devon.
Rita spots me moments before him, her relief palpable, her red hair worn long today, while her patience is eternally short. Devon follows her gaze and rotates to face me. “Nick,” he breathes out, and he really looks like he might implode if he doesn’t spill out his confession here and now.
Exactly why I need him out of this lobby. “Have a drink in my office, my man,” I say. “I’ll be right there.”
The minute he’s gone and my door has opened and shut, I step to Rita’s desk, and she lets out a breath. “He’s guilty of whatever he’s here to talk about. He’s a guilty, walking-dead mess.”
“Which is why I need North on standby to file an action, if it becomes necessary,” I say, speaking of my associate. “And get him on the response to the bank on the Reid Winter Winery that needs to be done today.”
“He already has the documents and is working on them now.”
“Any further information on the inspection?” I ask.
“A team of five will be there any minute, and they plan to finish by tomorrow night.”
I grab a sheet of paper and write down Faith’s number. “Faith isn’t at the winery. She’s here. Kasey is in charge, but text Faith and me when the team arrives. If you have any trouble at the winery, call Faith. She knows who you are, but I left quickly this morning and didn’t tell her you might be contacting her.”
“Left quickly? As in she’s at your house?”
“Drill me about my personal life later, when you can really dig your nails in and do it with full, irritating force. I need to see Charles tomorrow after that inspection is complete,” I say of my banker. “Get him on the schedule, and if anyone from SF Bank calls, put them through.” I consider a moment and write down instructions for North before handing it to Rita. “Have North ready to file these documents with the court the minute we receive the new evaluation of the winery.”
She glances at the information. “This will put you in court Wednesday. I’ll move your morning appointments. What else?”
“If Faith calls, put her through. And I need Frank Segal, an attorney practicing out of Sonoma, on the line.”
“Now?” she asks incredulously.
“The minute you can reach him,” I say, pausing at my door, “so yes. Now.”
“You are clear on the fact that one of your largest clients, who’s about to wet his pants, is in your office, correct?”
She’s right. He’ll melt down if I take a call when I’m with him. “Get Segal on the line the minute Devon leaves.” I turn and head for my office.
“I really deserve those donuts, Nick.”
I pause at my closed door. “Which is why you will have them as soon as you send someone to get them who is not you or me,” I say before entering my office.
And holy hell, the minute I shut the door, Devon spews a mess of shit out at me that all but guarantees he’ll be needing Abel a hell of a lot more than me. I listen to him, and despite all I have seen in my years of practice, this man manages to blow my mind. He’s brilliant, with a wife and kids and a hell of a lot to lose, and yet he made stupid choices. When he’s finally done and we have a plan to connect him to Abel, I watch him exit, with my father in my mind. Greed catches up to people, and I tracked my father’s business dealings. When he wasn’t banging a new woman, he was banging a new payday, and usually at the price of others. And that shit catches up with you. For some, it lands them in jail. Others, a grave.
That’s not a hard place to go with my father, but how the hell did Meredith Winter end up dead, too?
