Sidney Sheldon's Mistress of the Game (39 page)

“You’re sure it was Lexi who authorized these withdrawals.”

“Yes, sir.”

She’s stealing from me? From the charity? It makes no sense.

“Do you know why?”

“No, sir. Not yet. I’m afraid your fiancée is a regular David Blaine when it comes to money. As soon as she get her hands on it, it vanishes. The paper trail around her is so complex, it’s damn near impenetrable.”

Gabe pulled out his checkbook. Scribbling down a number, he ripped off the check and handed it to the investigator. The fat man’s eyes bulged.

“Penetrate it.”

“Yes, sir. We will, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Waddling down the driveway of Gabe’s Bridgehampton beach house, clutching his check like a talisman, the PI marveled at the stupid things men did for love.

The PI had seen hundreds of pictures of Lexi Templeton. Blow-job lips on an angel’s face. Tits and ass to die for, but classy with it. A woman like that could screw any man she wanted. But she’d picked this old, white-haired shell of a guy who just
happened
to have bucket loads of money and a trusting nature?

Maybe McGregor thought he was safe because the lady was rich herself. If so, he was an even bigger fool.

Didn’t he know that rich women were the greediest of all?

It was Friday morning. Max sat in his corner office at Kruger-Brent staring at the photographs on his desk. His little boys, George and Edward, were five years old now. Max’s office had countless silver-framed pictures of them, hand in hand, grinning at the camera. There were photographs of Annabel, too, and of Eve as a young woman at the height of her beauty. But it was Max’s sons who mesmerized him, their innocence flooding the room like sunlight.

That’s what childhood ought to look like. Happy. Pure.

August Sandford stormed in.

“Have you seen our share price? What the hell’s happening?”

August Sandford had not aged well. His once thick chestnut hair had thinned, exposing too much middle-aged scalp. The muscled physique of his twenties had long since turned to fat. Kruger-Brent had made him a rich man, on paper. But this morning, August had seen the value of that paper drop by almost 15 percent. With a wife, three kids and a demanding mistress to support, August’s stress levels were permanently set on high. This morning, the sweat patches under his arms had grown so big they were about to start dripping.

Max pulled up Bloomberg on his PC screen.
Jesus.

August was shouting, “Some bastard’s shorting us.”

It was true. Somebody out there was borrowing massive amounts of Kruger-Brent stock and selling it at a discount. Effectively they were taking a bet on the share price going down. The problem was that by shorting on this scale, the seller was turning his prediction into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

“That piece in the
Wall Street Journal,
that’s what started this. That bitch journalist, making out like we’re some kind of major credit risk! Two lousy loans and the whole market’s turning on us. How the fuck did she know about Singapore? That’s what I’d like to know.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you
should
know. You’re running this company, Max. We’re leaking bad news like a ripped condom and you’re sitting in your ivory tower with your finger up your ass!”

Max’s head began to throb. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, August was gone.
Thank God
. Standing in his place was an elderly man. He was leaning heavily on a wooden cane, clutching the handle with delicate, liver-spotted hands.

“Can I help you?”

The old man shook his head. “No. I’m afraid no one can help me anymore. It’s too late.”

Something about his voice sounded familiar. His sadness tugged at Max’s heartstrings. “Too late for what, sir?” he asked kindly. “Perhaps I can help.”

“Too late for everything. I’m dead, you see. My boy killed me.”

Foul green slime began to ooze from the old man’s nostrils.

“Why did you do it, Max? I loved you so much.”

Keith?

A terrible, unearthly stench filled Max’s office. He started to choke, clutching his desk for support.

“Get out! You’re dead! Get out and leave me alone!”

“Max?”

“I said GET OUT!”

August Sandford was shaking Max by the shoulders.

“Max! Can you hear me? Are you all right? Max?”

“Oh God. I killed him!”

“Killed who?”

That was all they needed in a crisis. A chairman who was losing his marbles.

Slowly, Max emerged from the nightmare. The terror began to fade.
It’s okay. I’m in my office. August’s here. It was a dream, that’s all. Just a dream.

“I’m sorry.” He smiled weakly at August Sandford. “The stress gets to me sometimes. I’m fine.”

Like hell you are.

Max forced himself to look at the screen in front of him. This was
the real nightmare. And he hadn’t the first clue what to do about it. Sensing his indecision, August took charge.

“You need to call a board meeting. Right now. We need to find out who’s short-selling our stock and why. If it’s the credit rumors, we can address that. But we have to act fast.”

August Sandford hurried out of the room. Max stared at the open door, half expecting his father’s ghost to reappear.
Annabel’s right. I need help.

He pressed a buzzer on his desk.

“Tell the board I’m convening an emergency meeting.”

His computer screen was flashing.

Fifteen percent down.

Sixteen…

“I want everyone around that table in fifteen minutes.”

Lexi was clearing her desk at Templeton when David Tennant knocked on her open office door.

“Come in.” She smiled at him warmly. David Tennant did not return the smile, or the warmth.

“I came to give you this.” He handed her a sealed white envelope.

Lexi joked. “I take it from your expression that it’s not an early Christmas card?”

“No. It’s my resignation.”

Lexi looked taken aback. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. I thought we were partners, Lexi. But partners don’t lie to each other.”

“David! I haven’t lied.”

David Tennant shook his head in disbelief. “Haven’t lied? You’ve done
nothing
but lie for months. Lexi, you’ve plundered the company balance sheet without mercy, despite solemnly promising me you would stop. Our cash reserves are so low we can barely afford a hot dog. You refuse to tell me, to tell any of us, what you’ve been buying.”

“I haven’t been buying anything,” said Lexi truthfully. “It’s true that at one time I was acquiring businesses.”

“From Kruger-Brent.”

“Yes,” Lexi admitted. “But I stopped that years ago.”

“Really. So where
is
the money, Lexi?”

Lexi picked up a brass paperweight on her desk and studied it intensely. When she spoke, she did not meet David Tennant’s eye.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

David Tennant turned to go.

“Wait! Please, David. Trust me. All the money I’ve borrowed from Templeton will be repaid. With interest. This deal that I’m working on could make us a fortune.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“It will. But if worse comes to worst, I can refinance Templeton.”

“How?”

Lexi looked at him brazenly. “By borrowing against my Kruger-Brent stock.”

“Lexi, have you looked at the markets this morning? Kruger-Brent’s stock is in free fall.”

“What do you mean ‘free fall.’ They’re down?” She switched on her computer, trying to hide her excitement.
It’s started.

“Not down. Crashing. Something’s going on over there. People are dumping KB shares as if they were live hand grenades. Unless Max Webster can turn the tide, they could be bankrupt by Monday morning.”

The stock price popped up on Lexi’s screen. Her hands started to tremble.

In other circumstances, David Tennant might have felt sorry for her. If Kruger-Brent did go under, Lexi stood to lose a fortune. But having watched her strip the value out of his 10 percent stake in Templeton without a shred of remorse—seven years of work up in smoke!—he wasn’t feeling at his most charitable.

He walked out of the office without looking back.

After he’d gone, Lexi sat at her desk for a long time.

They could be bankrupt by Monday morning.

If this doesn’t work, I’ve destroyed the thing I love most in the world.

An hour later, Lexi left the office and drove out to the Hamptons. This weekend with Gabe had been on the schedule for months. She couldn’t cancel. She had to behave normally. Act like nothing has happened.

Gabe saw Lexi’s Aston Martin DB7 pull into the graveled driveway. He watched from their bedroom window as she stepped out of the car.

“Our” bedroom. That’s a joke. Lexi can’t have spent more than six nights here all year.

As always, her beauty took his breath away. She wore a plain gray wool business suit and cream silk blouse, her blond hair pulled back in a
simple ponytail. But she still shone brighter than the polestar.
She always will to me.
He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. Maybe, somehow, she’d have an explanation for taking the money? For all the secrecy, all the lies? Clinging to faint hope, he went downstairs.

Lexi dropped her weekend bag in the entryway and hugged him fiercely. Gabe saw instantly that she’d been crying.
Tears of remorse? Guilt?

“What’s the matter?”

Lexi followed him into the sitting room. She sank down onto the white couch that only a few short hours ago had borne the weight of the fat PI.

“Is there something on your mind? Something you want to tell me?”

Not until that moment did Lexi realize how much pressure she’d been under. The greatest gamble of her life was under way. She longed to unburden herself to Gabe. But she knew she couldn’t.

“I’m not sure where to begin.”

Gabe felt the love well up inside him like freshly struck oil. She looked so forlorn and vulnerable.

She really is sorry. She’s going to confess everything. I’ll forgive her. Everything will be all right.

“Templeton’s going under.”

Gabe hid his surprise. It wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. Was
that
why she’d stolen from his charity? To prop up her business? Hardly the most noble of reasons, but perhaps in desperation…

“David Tennant resigned today. I’m going to have to let the others go, too.”

“I’m sorry, darling. I know how much that business means to you.”

Lexi looked up at him with genuine surprise.

“Templeton? It doesn’t mean that much to me.”

Now Gabe was confused. “But…you’ve been crying.”

“Not about Templeton.” Lexi sniffed.

This is it. This is where she’s going to come clean about the money. Ask to make a fresh start.

“Kruger-Brent’s share price got decimated today. Wiped out. They could…it might mean the end of the company.”

Gabe recoiled as if he’d been stung.

Kruger-Brent? She’s crying over Kruger bloody Brent?

It was the last straw. Gabe hadn’t hit another human being since almost killing that poor man in London thirty years ago. But he could feel
his fists twitching. Did Lexi have no shame at all? She’d stolen money, not just from him, the man she was supposed to love, but from the thousands of AIDS victims who desperately needed it. But that didn’t bother her. Oh no. All she cared about, all she’d
ever
cared about, was that godforsaken company. Gabe remembered his father, how he’d died broken and embittered, destroyed by his obsession with Kruger-Brent.
I traveled halfway across the world to avoid the same fate. And here I am, in love with a woman every bit as poisoned and corrupted by Kruger-Brent as my dad was.

Oblivious to his anger, Lexi went on.

“There have been some credit problems. I didn’t realize it was that serious, but obviously it must be. The market can sense Max’s weakness like a shark smelling blood.”

“I don’t care.” Gabe’s voice was barely a whisper.

“What?”

“I said I’m NOT INTERESTED!”

Suddenly he was shouting. Screaming. Lexi had never seen him so angry.

“Kruger-Brent can go to hell, for all I care, and the same goes for Max Webster. You stole from my foundation.”

Lexi said nothing. Gabe could see the wheels turning in her brain as she calculated her options. Deny? Explain? Apologize?

Everything’s a game to her. It’s all about winning and to hell with the truth.

Eventually she said: “I didn’t steal. I borrowed.”

“Why?”

Another pause. “I can’t tell you.” She hung her head. “But it was for something very important.”

“More important than getting retrovirals to terminally sick children?”

“Yes,” Lexi answered without thinking, from the heart.

Gabe looked at her with a mixture of horror and disgust. Was she really so far gone that she thought a business deal was more important than saving lives? Apparently so.

His disappointment was more than Lexi could bear. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“You’ll get the money back, Gabe. You’ll get twice what I took. I promise.”

“It’s not about the money.” Gabe put his head in his hands.

Lexi thought:
He looks so tired. So defeated. Have I done that to him?

“It’s over, Lexi. I love you. But I can’t go on.”

Lexi felt the walls caving in. She wanted to cry, to scream:
No! I love you. Please don’t leave me. Don’t go!

And yet she knew she couldn’t keep him. Gabe was good and honest and true. He deserved a normal, happy life. She had done what she had to do. Gabe would never understand it, even if she told him. Which, of course, she never would.

It took every ounce of her self-control for Lexi to stand up, pick up her bag and walk to the door.

“I love you, too, Gabe. I’m sorry. You’ll get your money.”