‘I’m talking about your father,’ he snapped. ‘He’s a goddamned thief!’
‘My father?’ she said incredulously. ‘Look, say what you want about me, Quinn. I know what you think of me and I can’t… I can’t blame you. But my father? My father’s been chief accountant at Fowler’s for years. He…’
‘He’s been stealing from Fowler’s for years.’
‘You’re a liar,’ she said quickly, her voice sharp with anger. ‘You don’t know anything about him. For that matter, you don’t know a damned thing about Fowler’s, either. You walked away from your family and your responsibilities…’ The bite of his hands made her breath hiss between her teeth. ‘You’re hurting me,’ she said, trying to twist free. ‘Let go of me. Dammit, let go or I’ll…’
‘You’ll what?’ he said, lifting his hands from her with exaggerated care. ‘Call for help?’ He laughed. ‘Send for the police? That would be rich, wouldn’t it? The embezzler’s daughter and the cops.’
Paige drew in her breath. ‘Embezzler?’
‘What’s the matter, Paige? Do you think the word’s too harsh? That’s what he’s been doing. Hell, you probably know the story better than I do. Take a little from this account, a little from that—dormant accounts, of course, the kind no one ever looks at twice. Who’s going to catch you, especially if you’re the man in charge?’
‘That’s impossible,’ she said quickly. ‘If anyone did something like that, Alan or his father would have known. Who are you to come out of nowhere and say these things?’
Quinn’s mocking smile faded. Suddenly, the room seemed cool.
‘I own a consulting firm, Paige. Didn’t Alan tell you? Computers, software, programs—my speciality is setting up accounting procedures for firms like Fowler’s.’ The smile came again, quick and cold. ‘When my father heard I was coming home for Alan’s wedding, he tossed me a bone. “See what you can do for our records department,” he said, probably not expecting much.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘But I did a great deal. I spent the past few days instituting a computer program that took Fowler’s out of the dark ages and into the twenty-first century.’
Paige stared at him. None of what he was saying made sense. ‘But… but Alan said you weren’t even arriving until…’
‘Alan was so busy being a bridegroom that he didn’t know which end was up.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I flew in the evening of the Masquerade Ball. Of course, he didn’t see me that night. Nobody did, thanks to your little tease on the beach.’
Colour flooded her face. ‘That’s not the way it was, Quinn.’
‘Since then,’ he said, ignoring the interruption, ‘I’ve spent every day programming the computers. I turned up your father’s little scheme the day before yesterday.’ A thin smile spread across his mouth. ‘Do you want a good laugh? When I realised who he was—Paige Gardiner’s father—I almost went crazy trying to find a way to bury what I’d found. I didn’t want Alan and his sweet little bride to learn that her daddy was an embezzler—not right before the wedding.’ He looked at her. ‘If you don’t believe me, find your father and ask him about the Melnick account. See what reaction you get.’
It was all too much. He was as wrong about her father as he was about her. He had to be. Her father, a thief? Never. He wouldn’t steal.
No risk, no gain. Her skin chilled, as if the ghosts called up by Quinn’s accusations were brushing against her. As a child, she’d overheard more than one hushed, late-night quarrel between her parents. It was always over the same thing—her father’s determination to ‘make a quick killing’. He was chasing fool’s gold, her mother would say, and then a cold silence would settle over the household for days on end.
What if her father’s schemes had got out of hand? What if the eccentricity had become addiction? Memories drawn from the past months tumbled through Paige’s mind: she thought of the way her father had thrown her at
Alan—there was no pretending he hadn’t. And then there were the vaguely unpleasant comments he’d made these past weeks about the Fowlers and their money. Now that she stopped to think, he’d been acting strangely ever since she’d returned home.
‘I only want what’s best for all of us.’
Wasn’t that what her father had said the other night? And she’d laughed and teased him about his choice of words. Suppose it hadn’t been a slip of the tongue? Suppose it was an expression of relief that he was going to be related to the Fowlers, protected by marriage from public shame or worse?
She knew, suddenly, that it was all too impossible for Quinn to be lying. What he’d told her was the truth. Panic filled her. Her father was an embezzler. A thief.
‘What do you want me to do?’ Her voice was desperate. ‘I’ll do whatever you say, Quinn. Just promise me you won’t expose my father.’
His eyes darkened. ‘Ah,’ he said softly, ‘the act is over. No more pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about, Paige?’ Denial was pointless; her silence was his answer. Quinn nodded. ‘All right, your father’s little game is over. I’ll see to it that it stays buried—if you do as I say.’
She nodded wearily. ‘Tell me what you want.’
His voice was sharp. ‘I want you out of Alan’s life.’
Anger stirred within her. ‘You think you know me, Quinn, but you don’t. I’d have made your brother a good wife. I…’
He laughed in her face. ‘A good wife? You mean a scheming wife, don’t you, baby? One who would lie cold in his arms, just to keep him on edge, while she slept her way through town.’
Tears gleamed on her lashes. ‘There’s no point to this conversation,’ she said. ‘You want me out of his life, and that’s fine. I’ll tell Alan the wedding’s off. I was going to do it days ago…’
He laughed again. ‘I’ll bet you were.’
Her eyes met his. ‘Bring Alan to me. I’ll tell him I’ve had second thoughts about marrying him. I’ll find a way that won’t hurt him.’