The Billionaire's Alibi: The Proposition (7 page)

Will walked into the house, not bothering to greet anyone at the door. He hadn’t lived at the Harper complex for years; he didn’t know many of the staff personally anymore. He wondered what kind of bonus his parents would give them to keep quiet about this.

Instead, he went straight upstairs to his father’s business quarters, where he knew his parents would be holding an emergency meeting with whatever professionals they could scrounge up on a few minutes’ notice.

Will paused outside, watching them through the glass. Henry Harper stood in the center of the conference room, listening quietly as the group around him argued amongst themselves. Will may have inherited his father’s tall, imposing stature and good looks, but he hadn’t yet mastered his calm still as he sharply absorbed and assimilated information. He knew that the second there was a lull in the conversation, his father would spring into decisive action, quickly barking orders at the people around him with a tone that no one dared to disobey.

Rebecca Harper sat poised at his side, impeccably dressed, as always, hands folded in her lap. Nothing could shatter the composed facade she had perfected throughout the years.

Within seconds, his mother spotted him, but she remained in her seat, her eyes never leaving his. Henry, on the other hand, marched toward him and flung open the glass doors.

"We've been waiting for you," he said through gritted teeth. “Get in here and tell us what the hell happened.”

Will cleared his throat and stepped inside. "Thank you for coming on my behalf," he began. The first lesson his father taught him about business was to never let on that things weren't going according to his orders. He intended to look like he had asked his parents to bring these experts together, rather than like rich kid who’d been caught with his pants down and couldn’t figure out how to get out of trouble.

“William.” Rebecca finally stood and walked up beside him. She pressed her palm gently against his cheek before bringing it to rest on his shoulder. He knew the gesture was intended to be seen as loving, but he recognized the artificial comfort. He could see the cold anger hidden behind her eyes.

"Tell us exactly what happened,” she continued, “in your own words. After that, you can go down to the guest rooms and clean yourself up."

Will knew this was why he was here—to share his version of the events—but he was at a loss of words. His hesitancy made him look guilty, he knew—his father’s lawyers confirmed it by firing questions at him in rapid succession: when did he last see Vivian, did he leave anything in her room, was it possible his DNA could be linked to the scene?

The further and further they dove, the more he understood just how much trouble he was in.

When they asked him whether he had an alibi to account for the rest of his night, he regretted that he didn’t know. "I might,” he said, “but it will depend on whether or not she can corroborate my story."

"She?” His mother raised her eyebrows with interest.

"Alexa Romo. Vivian’s friend. She's the one who found me blacked out in the middle of the hotel."

"The other suspect," one of the lawyers added, and the others nodded their heads.

Will looked up sharply. "No, Alexa wouldn't do this. She was best friends with Vivian in college."

"How do you know this?" The lawyer sitting next to his father leaned forward, the light from the chandelier casting a subtle gleam off his glasses.

Will shrugged. "I don't know her very well, but she wouldn’t kill anyone. That’s crazy.”

"But you said you were blacked out for a portion of the night?” another lawyer asked.

“Did Alexa have access to your drink?” a third one questioned.

“Could she have put something in it?”

He held up his hands to quiet the lawyers. He could see each of their minds working through the details, trying to pin down his defense.

But he couldn’t let them use her to do so.

“You’re not going to use Alexa as a scapegoat." His words came out fiercer than he expected. He wasn’t sure why he felt so protective of her—just yesterday he had wanted to take her down himself. Still, no one deserved to go to prison for a murder she didn’t commit. No one.

"They’re just trying to do their jobs," his mother said.

"Well, then do your damn jobs and point your finger at the real murderer!” he shouted. “I won't go along with it. If Alexa wanted to kill Vivian, she could've done it at any point. She didn't need to drug me…" He trailed off.

He realized with a start that drugging him was exactly what someone would have to do if they wanted to get Vivian alone, especially if that someone had seen them together at the club.

For a split-second, he wavered in his confidence in her, but then he came to his senses.

But if Alexa wanted to murder Vivian, she wouldn’t have helped him to her hotel room. She would have instead left him drugged in Vivian’s bed to set him up for the fall.

"She has no motive," he said quietly. "And I won’t go along with it. I'm not going let this family take down an innocent girl just because she doesn’t have the money or counsel to get herself out of this on her own."

"Son, no one is suggesting—“

"That is exactly what this room is suggesting," he hissed at his father. “I'm not naïve. I know exactly why these lawyers are here.”

The lawyer to his father’s left cleared his throat. "William, you do understand that Alexa is most likely already a suspect, regardless of what you do? We’re not trying to prove that she’s guilty; we are trying to provide reasonable doubt that you were not the murderer.”

"Not by pointing the finger at her," Will insisted. "If anything, we should be hiring a team of lawyers to defend her. Alexa didn't do this, and I’m not saving my own skin by accusing the wrong person. Vivian deserves justice, not lies.”

Anger flashed in his father’s eyes, but when he opened his mouth to speak, a look from his mother silenced him.

Rebecca placed a hand on his father’s shoulder with the same austerity she used with him. “Franklin is picking up Alexa Romo right now. When she gets here, we’re going to find out what she knows and how she plans to handle her defense. We may need this girl more than you think.”

Will raised his eyebrows at his mother, surprised she agreed with him. Then again, he knew her ways; Rebecca never did anything out of the kindness of her heart. Alexa had a target on her back, and it wouldn’t be long before his mother revealed her true motives.

The lawyer on the left shook his head at his mother’s words. "Rebecca, I strongly advise—"

Rebecca cut him off. “You’ve been with her since yesterday. You met her at the grocery store, didn't you, Will?”

He sighed, knowing that they weren’t going to like the true answer to question. “She caught me buying drugs at that specialty grocery store in the South Loop.”

Henry threw his hands up in the air. "So this girl already has something that she can use against you?"

"She's not going to tell anyone," Will said quickly. "I paid her off. She didn’t want to take the money, but she lost her job because of me, so she needed it."

"Yes…” Rebecca’s voice trailed off. A smile pricked at the corner of her lips, her eyes narrowed in thought. He knew that look, too, and it could only mean that his mother was formulating her plan.

"Alexa is quite strapped for money, according to her financial history, and her boyfriend is forcing her to move out of their apartment, according to my sources.”

“Wait—you know about that? When did you check into Alexa’s background?”

His mother’s nose twitched. “Nevermind that. Every reporter in the city is chomping at the heels for this story—Alexa’s part will come out soon enough. We must act quickly if we want to control it all.”

“Control it?” Will asked, not following Rebecca’s train of thought. His mom was rushing ahead out loud, which meant she had already decided how she could use Alexa to get what she wanted.

“We may be able to offer her a job in exchange for her cooperation."

He frowned. “A job? At the company?"

"If the police had to choose between you and Alexa, who do you think they're more inclined to believe? The girl who has no resources to her name and a slew of recent struggles? Or the man who was involved with the victim's sister, buys drugs at expensive grocery stores, and spends every weekend with a new woman?”

"What exactly are you saying?” Henry asked.

"We need Alexa on our side, and Will needs an alibi.” She met his eyes. “Whether she was with you at the time of Vivian’s death or not, we need her to corroborate your story, through any means necessary."

That was it. No matter how he refused, Alexa was already tangled in this web they were spinning. "What are you planning?”

"Why don’t you go wash up.” She smiled. “I think I can take it from here."

ALEXA

ALEXA glanced up at the Harper mansion in disgust. William Henry Harper’s home sat behind an iron-gated driveway that stretched beside three acres of front lawn. The four-storied house only grew more imposing the closer they drove, and Alexa found herself unimpressed at the tall windows, the fountains in the front courtyard, the sprawling structure that seemed more like a hotel than a home. Cars littered the driveway and a small crowd of overdressed men and women hovered in the open doorway.

“Frannie eat your heart out,” she muttered as the car swept around the fountain and up to the main entrance. She felt the car shift into park, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.

Nothing in the past 24 hours seemed real—Vivian’s death didn’t seem real. She felt tears sting her eyes, reminding her again that this was very real and very serious.

“Breathe, Alexa.” She could hear Vivian’s voice so vividly, repeating the words as she always did to calm Alexa’s nerves. “Breathe in, one, two three. Breathe out, one, two, two three.”
Vivian’s voice so clear that she could have been sitting beside Alexa. But she wasn’t. She was dead. Murdered.

Alexa’s heart pounded as she reached for the door handle with an unsteady hand. She whispered a thank-you to the driver, and stepped down.

“Alexa!” A bright eyed woman walked forward, hand outstretched. “I’m Elaine. Let me brief you about why you’re here.”

“I think that would help,” Alexa murmured numbly, reaching out her own hand, though her gaze kept to the house, traveling upward. “Where’s Will?”

Elaine laughed and shook her head as if Alexa had made an egregious error, startling her out of her detached reverie and bringing her back to her senses.

“You’ll be speaking with Will’s mother today.” Elaine led the way through the large double doors, stepping down the marble stairs and into the tiled foyer.

“His mom?” Alexa asked, her gaze shifting from the ornate, painted ceiling to the sweeping staircase to the balconies that wound themselves around the perimeter of each floor. “I don’t know his mom.”

Elaine ignored her and pulled a sheet of paper out of her leather portfolio. Glancing at it, Alexa noted that it looked like some kind of schedule.

“There are a few things you need to know before you speak to Rebecca. The first, as you know, is that Vivian Palmerson died at 5:21 this morning. Her body was found at 10am when the maids came to clean the room. You said that you found Will at about…what time?”

"… I don't know," Alexa said. “I woke up early and wanted to get some coffee. I had errands I needed to run first thing."

"You don't remember checking the clock when you woke up?"

"Honestly? I was a bit hung over.” Alexa paused. “I think I still am.”

"I see…" Elaine peered at her through narrowed eyes, her mouth twisted as if she was considering Alexa’s story.

"And what exactly was your relationship to Ms. Palmerson?" Elaine asked.

Alexa froze. "Are you a lawyer or something? Because this feels like an interrogation, not a briefing.”

"No.” Elaine’s chuckle patronized her. "I'm not a lawyer. I just want to tell Rebecca what she can expect."

"Why don't you tell me what I can expect?" Alexa asked, matching Elaine’s condescending smile. The shock was beginning to pass, anger quickly taking its place.

Elaine’s eyebrows shot up. "Why don’t we try to get through a few more of these questions, and then you can ask her yourself.”

"I don't think I want to answer any more questions."

“Alexa.” The voice seemed to echo across the entryway. She looked up to see a well-dressed woman emerge at the top of the staircase, descending toward her with a tight-lipped smile. As she reached the last step, she extended her hand in one fluid motion. "How lovely to see you,” she cooed with practiced kindness. “Rebecca Harper. Welcome to our home."

Alexa instinctively reached out to take Rebecca's delicate hand, her ill temper quickly fading. There was something about this woman that made her pause. Her manners were gentle and soft, and she seemed so genuine when welcoming her to her home, Alexa couldn’t stand to be anything but polite.

"It's nice to meet you. May I ask—why am I here?"

Rebecca opened the French doors to a sitting room off the corridor. “May we have the room, please?” she asked the small group that was busily working inside.