Part 12 (1/2)
”No,” she said. ”Jonathan has done so much for all of us. He deserves better than that.”
”He won't even miss it, Sam. It's like petty cash to him.”
”No.” She shook her head, adamant. And it wasn't just the money. She'd warned him the last time when he'd not only lost the money Jonathan had invested but dragged his name through the headlines that it absolutely couldn't happen again. Now he was talking about ”irregularities” and a possible SEC investigation.
Hunter turned his head and she realized someone was in the hallway. It was Brooke and Claire. ”Are you all right, Samantha?” Claire asked carefully. Both of them stared hard at Hunter.
She wasn't, not really. But she couldn't bring herself to say so. ”This is my brother. Hunter, this is Claire and Brooke, friends of mine in the building.”
He nodded but didn't waste even part of a smile. All of his focus was on Samantha. And getting what he wanted from her.
”Thanks for checking on me,” she said to the two women. Her voice sounded wooden in her ears. ”I'll be in in a minute.”
”All right,” Brooke said. ”We'll get you an apple crumble and save you a seat.”
”Thanks.” She watched them leave. Through the gla.s.s she could see them go up to Edward Parker. All three of them watched from within for several long moments.
”That was weird,” Hunter said dismissively.
”No,” she said. ”I believe that was friends.h.i.+p.” She was too bent on standing firm with Hunter to question why people she'd known for such a short time would wade into the middle of something even she didn't want to be a part of.
”So will you speak to Jonathan?” Hunter asked. ”Just this one last time? I promise I'll never . . .”
She'd heard this promise far too many times to allow herself to believe it. ”No.”
”But you have to,” he remonstrated. ”I'll be finished. Ruined. We'll all be in the papers.”
She looked him in the eye, forced herself to speak. ”How could you do this? Have you even stopped to think what an investigation like this might mean to Jonathan and the firm?”
”But, the money would buy us time and it might help make that go away. And Jonathan knows a good opportunity when he sees it.” He said this almost by rote. She could feel him trying to get her back on script; the one in which he asked, she agreed, and Jonathan gave.
”Oh, Hunter. Don't be ridiculous. When has Jonathan ever made money investing in your 'deals'? You've been his personal charity. And you've taken advantage of his generosity. We've all taken advantage.”
He glared at her; his green eyes gla.s.s shards of dislike. But even as she watched, the dislike disappeared and was replaced with desperation. ”People could go to jail, Samantha. I could go to jail. If it hits the papers . . .”
”This is finished,” she said quietly. ”I'll tell him there's a problem because he has to know. But I won't ask him to invest another penny or do anything but protect himself and the firm.”
”You don't mean it,” he said.
”I should have asked him to cut you off a long time ago. It's been unfair to him and it hasn't helped you at all.”
He shook his head, dismissive and disbelieving. ”You won't.”
”I will,” she said with all the certainty she could muster. ”I want a half page from you explaining the . . . irregularities in this deal and the reasons why the SEC might become involved. And when this is taken care of I expect you to go out and get a job. A real one with a salary. Not a pie-in-the-sky, smoke-and-mirrors kind of thing. A real job so you can pay your own rent. Take care of yourself. And maybe even start paying some of the money back to Jonathan that you've lost.”
The door to the clubroom opened and Edward Parker stepped out. ”I'm sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Davis, but I wanted to see if you'd be coming in to join the discussion.”
Hunter glowered at the concierge, but Edward Parker didn't seem to notice.
Samantha felt a small surge of relief. She'd said what she needed to say and Edward had offered an exit. ”Thank you, Edward.” She smiled a bit shakily at the concierge. ”I'll be right there.”
The concierge cast a look down his nose at Hunter. ”If you're sure everything's all right?”
Hunter's mouth opened in a snarl. ”Mind your own business or . . .”
Samantha drew herself up and squared her shoulders. ”Yes, thanks.” She swallowed but managed to raise an eyebrow at Hunter. ”My brother was just leaving.”
”Very good, madam,” he said in a fair imitation of Downton Abbey's butler, Carson.
”This is bulls.h.i.+t, Samantha,” Hunter said as soon as the door closed behind the concierge. ”How many people are going to come out here to try to protect you?”
She sighed, but she knew she couldn't retreat. ”The better question might be why do these people feel I need to be protected from you?”
He continued to glare at her. She could tell he simply didn't believe she wasn't going to cave in and do what he'd asked.
”You need to go now,” she said shakily. ”I'll tell Jonathan about the problem in my own way. You've forced him into another untenable position. That seems to be a Jackson family specialty. But this is it. When this mess is cleaned up there will be no more backing from him.” Then she said what she'd said to Meredith. ”And in the meantime you better start looking for a job. One you can hold on to. Otherwise you'll be cut off completely.”
”You can't mean . . .”
”Seriously, Hunter. The Jonathan Davis gravy train is over.”
He sputtered at her for a moment in shock and disbelief. Then he whirled and strode down the hall to the elevator.
She waited until the elevator door closed behind him, breathing deeply, trying to regain her bearings. Edward Parker smiled gently at her as she entered the clubroom. Brooke waved her to an empty seat at the table between her and Claire Walker. A gla.s.s of brandy and a br.i.m.m.i.n.g dessert plate awaited her.
For a moment she let the conversation wash over her. There was laughter and an overarching atmosphere of goodwill, but Samantha felt immune to it.
”Evelyn Napier is cute,” Mimi Davenport was saying, referring to the English diplomat. ”Although Evelyn is not the most masculine name I've heard. I think Lady Mary should have paid attention to him.”
”She only had eyes for Pamuk,” one of the lit teachers called out.
”I don't blame her,” Callan Ritchie said. ”Kemal Pamuk was hot! Did you see the way Lady Mary perked up when she saw him?”
”Oh, G.o.d, I couldn't believe it when he died right there in her bed!” Callan's twin Logan added.
”I hate when that happens!” the white-haired Mimi Davenport threw in.
There was laughter.
Samantha turned to Claire. ”He died in her bed?” she asked blankly.
Claire and Brooke nodded. ”Oh, yeah. It was unreal,” Brooke said.
”You need to see it for yourself, though,” Claire added. ”I bet Edward will loan you the episode.”
Edward wrapped up the discussion and reluctantly, as always, the crowd began to leave. Brooke and Claire stood when Samantha did. She was relieved that they didn't ask what had happened between her and her brother; she could barely bring herself to think about it.