The Billionaire From Philly

“I’ll meet you,” Victor told her, before ending the call. He hurried out of his apartment and to the elevator, which he thought—he hoped—she would be waiting for in the lobby. He rode down, waiting impatiently as the car worked its way through the floors, for one of the few times since he had taken the penthouse unit in the building wondering if it might not be better to have a unit that wasn’t quite so sky-high.

The doors finally opened to reveal Danielle, indeed waiting for him on the ground floor. There was no one with her, fortunately; no one else waiting for the elevator, so Victor quickly pressed the button for his floor once again and pulled Danielle into the elevator and into his arms in one quick movement, pressing her body close to his. He brushed a kiss against her temple and then turned her face up, and kissed her on the lips, for a few moments consumed by his concern and feeling for her.

“We fucked up,” Danielle muttered, barely pulling back from his lips. “Or—I guess I should say that I fucked up.” Victor pressed Danielle even more tightly against him and then pulled back to look down into her eyes.

“First of all, are you okay? He didn’t hurt you?” Danielle nodded and then shook her head in turn, in response to the questions.

“He didn’t hurt me,” she said. “I’m—physically, anyway—okay.”

“Good,” Victor said. He kissed her again, more lightly, and exhaled a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding.

“But I still fucked up,” Danielle said.

“Let’s wait until we get up to the apartment and you can tell me all about it,” Victor suggested. Danielle nodded, and he pulled her close again, hugging her tightly as the elevator made the rest of its way up through the floors to his apartment on the top level.

Back in the apartment, Victor made a beeline to the kitchen with Danielle’s hand in his still, and only let go of her to pour her a glass of wine. They were both silent as he got himself another beer and then they moved, as one, to the kitchen island. “Go ahead,” Victor said, raising his beer to clink it against Danielle’s glass of wine lightly.

“I got him to admit it,” Danielle said, after taking the ceremonial sip of her wine. “I got him to admit it, but he was so...he was so bald-faced about it, that I got pissed.” She took another, deeper sip and then set the glass down, closing her eyes. “I stormed away, and somehow knocked the recorder loose so he could see it, and he grabbed it from me and destroyed it.” She turned her gaze onto Victor and sighed again.

“That’s all? He didn’t hurt you or threaten you?” Danielle raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean ‘that’s all’?” She frowned at him. “That’s bad enough isn’t it?”

“It’s not bad, actually,” Victor said, smiling slightly.

“The whole point of the recorder and all of it was to get him on the record,” Danielle said. Victor’s smile grew.

“We still have him on the record,” he told her.

“He destroyed it, though!” Victor leaned in close to Danielle and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

“It’s a special kind of recorder,” he explained. “It doesn’t just create the physical copy on the drive on it—it also continuously uploads to the cloud. So, whether he destroyed it or not, there’s a copy of everything.” Victor paused for the significance to come clear to Danielle and watched as her eyes widened. “Including him snatching i

t off of you.”

“Holy shit,” Danielle said. “So—so we still have it?” Victor nodded.

“We still have the recording,” he confirmed. Danielle took a large gulp of her wine and smiled in relief.

“It feels good to know that, but not as good as I would think,” she admitted.

“Why not?” Victor frowned.

“It was how it went down,” Danielle explained. “Beyond just him destroying the recorder, the whole...the fact that he knew I was recording him.” Victor considered that and nodded. If Sam knew that his sister was recording him, that would be—potentially, at least—a major betrayal.

“It is probably going to make things uncomfortable and awkward between the two of you,” Victor said drily.

“I hate him, right now,” Danielle said flatly. She shook her head. “He...he wasn’t even ashamed about what he’d done. He’d purposely had me donate your money to those places, fooled me about it, set it up so that I would choose those charities to punish me.” Danielle scowled.

“So then it’s not like he has much right to get pissed at you for recording him,” Victor pointed out. Danielle laughed bitterly.

“I mean it doesn’t matter if he has the right, he is pissed,” Danielle said. “Probably as pissed as I am at him for putting me in this position.” She met Victor’s gaze and Victor could see the pain in her eyes, the fact that her anger was covering something much deeper: betrayal, sadness, grief.

“What do you want to do?” Danielle smiled wryly.

“Right now, I just want to finish this glass of wine, have another, and maybe take a shower,” she said. Victor mirrored her smile, with a little more warmth behind it.

“Do you want some company in the shower?” He raised an eyebrow. Danielle chuckled—and some of the bitterness, some of the upset in her voice had gone away.