“He doesn’t need five million. That’s too much money, Q,” Lora muttered.
“I know, which is why he won’t be getting that much from me.”
“So…what are you going to do?” Lora asked, arms folding, a slight dip in her brow line.
Cane scratched the back of his head. “I’ve been thinking about what I was going to do for a while. I knew he’d come, and I prepared myself for it, that’s why I let the investigator go.” He looked from Lora to me, and then to Lora again. “I have a plan…but in order for it to work, there are a few calls Kandy and I need to make first.”
“Me?” I asked, pressing a hand to my chest.
“Yes,” he said, locking on my eyes. “It has to be you.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
CANE
I had Cora cancel every meeting I had that upcoming Thursday, then I sent her home early because I knew shit would get ugly, and I didn’t want her to be around for it. She’d dealt with enough of my family drama and was a great secretary whose loyalties I’d never doubted.
With a hand pressed to my chin, I watched the clock tick on the wall. On my desk was a manila envelope with Buck’s name on it.
Five minutes till. He would be arriving soon.
And sure enough, he did.
I heard the elevator chime, and from my seat, with my door wide open, I watched the elevator doors draw apart. I didn’t bother sitting up higher or standing to usher him in, or to shake his lawyer’s hand. I remained where I was, watching him walk, a thick woman trailing behind him. He came my way, a stupid smirk on his face. When he entered my office, he looked all around him before focusing on me.
“Got my money?” he asked, dropping down in the seat on the opposite side of my desk.
The woman sat beside him, and I looked her over. “Who is she supposed to be?”
“Leverage,” Buck stated. “She’s a good lawyer too.”
“Oh, really?” I dropped my hand and straightened my back, glaring at the woman. “I think she’s a pretty dumb lawyer to bother representing you.”
“Excuse me, but that is very inappropriate,” she shot back.
“No, I don’t think it is. What is your name?”
“Cathy Walker, General Practice.”
I crossed my fingers on top of my desk. “Okay, Miss Walker, let me ask you something. Did he tell you that he used to abuse me, my sister, and my mom every single day, either physically or mentally?”
She looked nervous, glancing through the corner of her eye at him before focusing on me again. “No, Mr. Cane, he did not.”
“Of course he didn’t. And did he ever tell you that he tried to rape my baby sister—his own daughter—when she was only twelve years old?”
All the color drained from her face. She sat up higher in her chair, and Buck shook his head, a small smile on his lips. Although he was smiling, I could see the darkness swirling in his eyes. He wanted to hit me. I wanted him to try it, show her that he was a worthless, hotheaded piece of shit.
“T-that is not why we’re here, Mr. Cane.” Miss Walker laid a folder on my desk that she’d been holding. She flipped through the paperwork, and when she found what she was looking for, she took it out and read over it. “We are here because according to Mr. Hunter, you stole Tempt, the name of your company, from him. And according to Mr. Hunter, he knew the man that made the wine and had come up with an agreement with him to set up an operation to sell it.”
“Bullshit,” I spat. “You really wanna know how it happened? Buck came outside, threatened me, and said the word ‘tempt.’ That’s it.”
“Yes, but he claims to have been there, helping you work on your business plan. He claims that you said you would include him, but that you never did. And when he went to prison, you built the business and then filled his commissary a few years later because you felt guilty.”
I shook my head, scoffing, and just as I was about to defend myself, the elevator chimed, and the doors drew open again. When I saw who it was, I decided to keep my mouth shut. I sat back and smiled, folding my arms over my chest.
Three good people came into my office: Mindy Jennings, lawyer; Joey Moretti, a damn good winemaker; and Derek Jennings, a damn good cop. The same cop that arrested my mother’s piece of shit sperm donor and tossed his ass in jail.
“Sorry we’re late,” Mindy huffed, stepping up to my side. “Joey’s flight was a little delayed.” She placed a few folders down, and I bobbed my head at Joey, who smiled and nodded back. Joey looked like a nice version of Vito Corleone in The Godfather Part II. He still had his slick black hair, but his fashion sense wasn’t like Robert De Niro when he played Vito—Joey still wore those godawful Hawaiian shirts he loved to buy from thrift stores.