The Billionaire From Philly Read online

  “You wouldn’t be going to prison, stop being dramatic,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

  “I sure as hell would if I got caught up in this,” Danielle told him. She rose to her feet. “I’m done talking to you. In fact, I don’t want to see you again. Lose my number.” She turned to leave and made it a few steps before Sam stopped her.

  “You’re my sister,” he said, his voice harsh. “You can’t just cut me out like that.”

  “I would have thought as your sister that you couldn’t put me out on a limb like that,” Danielle told him. “I would have thought you would have been more careful with someone you claimed to love.”

  “So this is why you wanted to do this in public, huh?” Sam shook his head and Danielle pushed him away from her, heading for the exit to the cafe. She could feel her eyes burning and knew that she would begin crying at any moment—she definitely didn’t want Sam to see that and think that her resolve was weakening.

  He followed her out of the building. “Go away, Sam,” Danielle said, barely keeping control over her voice.

  “I just wanna know: why couldn’t we talk about this in private?” Danielle rolled her eyes.

  “Because I didn’t want to risk you flipping the fuck out on me when I accused you of what turned out to be exactly what was going on,” she told him.

  “I would never, ever hurt you,” Sam protested.

  “No—you’d just risk me getting hurt by people in prison, and never being able to get a decent job for the rest of my life,” Danielle retorted.

  “You were never going to go to prison, shut up,” Sam said dismissively. “Stop being so dramatic.”

  “Do you really think I don’t know how this works?” Danielle stopped and turned to face her brother. They were almost to the intersection at Filbert Street, where Danielle had parked. “Someone catches the money laundering going on, finds out that Victor contributed to the charities, and then it comes down on me because everyone in law enforcement knows what family you belong to, and they know I’m your sister.” She shook her head. “We might be siblings by blood but you’re treating me worse than someone in a whole different family.”

  “You keep me out of your life, and don’t tell me anything about what you have going on, and then you don’t even give me a chance to get a piece of the big fish you’ve reeled in and you’re going to be mad at me?” Sam scowled.

  “I’m mad at you because after everything I’ve done to help you, after making it clear to you that I don’t want to have anything to do with Bey business, you brought me into it without even asking me,” Danielle told her brother. “All to punish me for not telling you about my new boyfriend? About my new job? You’re willing for me to get arrested and have that on my name for the rest of my life, all because I didn’t tell you about those things?”

  “I wanna know why you couldn’t just ask me over the phone,” Sam said. “Why do this in public?”

  “I told you,” Danielle said. “And considering that there’s probably a good four or five requests for your phone records going on in different cop files, would you have wanted me to ask over the phone? Really?” She kept walking, wanting more than anything to get in her car and get to Victor’s place. She needed him to comfort her.

  “Since when are you so smart about law enforcement?” Sam kept pace with her.

  “Since my brother started doing things likely to get him thrown in jail,” Danielle replied.

  “Why is this pissing you off so much?” Danielle stopped again and turned to face her brother.

  “Because you obviously—obviously—don’t care about my safety, or my happiness,” Danielle replied. “And I loved you and cared about you all my life. More fool me, I guess.” She took a deep breath and Sam looked her over, stunned. But then his gaze came to a stop on the front of her shirt.

  “What the hell is that?” She must have shifted the recorder somehow in the process of moving around so much; Sam’s gaze was right on the spot where she’d hidden it between her jacket and her shirt. It hadn’t been visible in the cafe, but Danielle was certain it was visible to her brother’s gaze.

  “Why the hell are you staring at my tits?” Danielle resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest, as much to hide the recorder as from discomfort itself at her brother’s gaze on her.

  Before she could react, he’d reached out and pushed past her jacket, to find the little device. “Fucking nice,” Sam said, his face transforming into rage. “All this about how I should care about you and how I betrayed you and you’ve got a fucking wire?” He threw the device down on the ground and then stomped the pieces into smaller ones, looking at Danielle in disgust. “Fuck you.” He turned on his heel and walked away fast, and Danielle didn’t even bother to say anything to try and stop him. She turned the corner and walked up Filbert Street, headed for her car. Even more than before, she wanted to be with Victor again.

  *

  “I’m glad you agreed to come over, Brad,” Victor said as he led his attorney down the hall to his apartment.

  “I wanted to get this done as quickly as possible, give you a chance to decide how to take care of it,” Brad said. Even off-hours, he was dressed to the nines, Victor noted; the lawyer was in a pair of tailored dress pants and a button-down shirt with a bow tie—not exactly casual, but at the same time not the same level of formality that came with his usual nine-to-five uniforms.

  “So, tell me what you found out,” Victor suggested as he went into the kitchen to pour them both a drink. Blocks away, not even on the other end of the city, Danielle was—he hoped—meeting with her brother, getting him to give her information that Brad would be confirming, one way or the other.

  “It’s definitely at least partially a laundering operation,” Brad said without preamble. Victor sighed, even as he grabbed them each a beer out of the fridge. He had known that was a possibility—that was something that he and Danielle both had to figure out. “It seems like the three places at least operate as a good cover for laundering—they seem to actually provide some community services—but there’s definitely, according to the guy I had looking into it, laundering going on.”

  Victor led Brad into the living room and sat down. “You’re sure?” He knew Brad wouldn’t say it so definitively—not after their confrontation in his office—if he wasn’t, but he wanted to hear the man say it.

  “I’m sure,” Brad said, nodding and cracking open his beer.

  “What else did you find out?” He sat back and sipped his own beer, waiting for details. Brad set his drink down, took out his tablet and started going over his notes: he’d managed to get an investigator to look into the three organizations, and to do some in-depth searching based on the few little leads he’d managed to accumulate.

  “There’s definitely a direct tie to Sam,” Brad said, meeting Victor’s gaze levelly. “I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s the truth.” Victor smiled slightly.

  “I don’t mind hearing it,” Victor said. “A tie to Sam doesn’t prove that Danielle knew about it, and you know that as well as I do.” Brad shrugged.

  “If it came up in a court of law, then there would be a hard time disproving the theory that she did it on purpose, and you could go down with her,” Brad said.

  “If we had proof that she didn’t know about it, that would change that aspect—wouldn’t it?” Brad raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean, if you had proof—sure,” Brad said. “But how are you going to get proof that she didn’t know about it?” Victor smiled more broadly, thinking of Danielle on her particular mission at that very moment. He had wanted to go with her, or at least be nearby, but they’d agreed to settle each of their ends of the problem separately. She had wanted to confront her brother on her own about the issue, and deal with it herself. There was—at the moment—no real question of what they would do with the knowledge. Just knowing about things was enough.

  “If I have proof, then that’s what I’m going to go with,” Victor said, shruggi
ng off the question. “That’s all I’m concerned about. What do you think the likelihood is that the DA would end up coming after me?” Brad picked up his beer and took a long sip, considering that point.

  “As long as there’s no discernible pattern, I don’t think it’s all that likely,” Brad said. “At least for him to come after you. I can’t necessarily say the same thing about Danielle.”

  “Do you think there’s a strong chance that anyone’s looking specifically at these three charities?” Victor set his beer aside. Brad shrugged.

  “I couldn’t say for sure,” Brad admitted. “With these kinds of operations, it could happen at any time—you have to know that. Someone could be watching them, no one could be watching them. The fact that I could find out what I did about the organizations means that it’s likely someone has an ear to the ground.”

  “And basically, you’re worried that between this and my connection with Nikolai—strictly business—it could bring me down?” Brad nodded slowly.

  “If there’s anything that they can use to prove that you’re doing something illegal, they’ll be likely to take you in if only to make you roll over on other, bigger fish,” Brad said. “That’s how they do the big raids.”

  “Nikolai will understand if I have to back off of things for a while,” Victor said. He sighed. “Is there any way to prevent it from happening again with those organizations? Is there a way that Danielle could screen for that kind of thing coming up?” Brad raised an eyebrow.

  “I don’t know how you’re so convinced she didn’t do it on purpose in the first place,” Brad pointed out. “I mean, she’s related to the person basically in charge of the operation.”

  “I know she didn’t do it on purpose, that’s all you need to know about it,” Victor told his lawyer firmly.

  “If you’re that confident about it, nothing I say is going to change your mind,” Brad said equitably.

  They continued talking about it for a while longer: how Victor could limit his liability, how they could manage to keep his fortune safe from any future attempts, do pre-emptive screenings of charities that Danielle might donate some chunk of his fortune to without making it a hugely laborious process.

  Both men finished their beers, and Victor began to worry about how things were going with Danielle and her brother. He knew that if she was being careful, working on buttering Sam up first, it would probably take a while—but he’d hoped to at least hear something from her.

  “I think we’ve just about gotten this squared away,” Brad said, rising to his feet, and Victor nodded. As soon as the lawyer left, he promised himself, he would call Danielle. Even if she was busy with her brother, it would at least give her a cue to send him some kind of message. He grabbed the empties and shook Brad’s hand.

  “I’ll loop you back in once I know anything else,” Victor told his attorney.

  “Same coming from me,” Brad said, nodding. “If I find anything else out—even if I think it’ll piss you off—you know I’ll tell you, right?” Victor laughed.

  “You’re not going to suddenly find some smoking gun in Danielle’s life,” he assured the lawyer. “But if you find anything out I need to know, tell me no matter what it is.”

  He watched as the lawyer left and considered—again—whether or not to call Danielle. If she was still talking to Sam, then him calling her might interfere with the recording device she was wearing. At the same time, he was getting worried; he’d heard nothing at all from her, and he would have thought that the kind of discussion she was supposed to be having with her brother would have gone fairly quickly.

  He took his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. Assuming that Sam had arrived as scheduled at the cafe, they had been talking for almost an hour—that was too long. Something might have gone wrong.

  Victor had opened up his contacts list and pulled up Danielle’s information when the screen flashed, shifting over to the notification for an incoming call. After a half-second, it showed the call was from Danielle herself. “I was just about to call,” Victor said as the call connected.

  “I’m just parked in the garage,” Danielle said. “This has all gone to shit and we need to talk about it.” Victor’s eyes widened in reaction to the tone in her voice. “I’m on my way up.” Victor nodded to himself, and then looked at his door. Danielle sounded distressed—more than that, angry and sad in equal measures; more emotional than she’d been even when he had told her what Brad had discovered. Obviously, something had gone seriously wrong with the meeting she’d had with her brother, and Victor felt a mixture of sympathy and worry for the woman he loved.

  “I’ll meet you,” Victor told her, before ending the call. He hurried out of his apartment and to the elevator, which he thought—he hoped—she would be waiting for in the lobby. He rode down, waiting impatiently as the car worked its way through the floors, for one of the few times since he had taken the penthouse unit in the building wondering if it might not be better to have a unit that wasn’t quite so sky-high.

  The doors finally opened to reveal Danielle, indeed waiting for him on the ground floor. There was no one with her, fortunately; no one else waiting for the elevator, so Victor quickly pressed the button for his floor once again and pulled Danielle into the elevator and into his arms in one quick movement, pressing her body close to his. He brushed a kiss against her temple and then turned her face up, and kissed her on the lips, for a few moments consumed by his concern and feeling for her.

  “We fucked up,” Danielle muttered, barely pulling back from his lips. “Or—I guess I should say that I fucked up.” Victor pressed Danielle even more tightly against him and then pulled back to look down into her eyes.

  “First of all, are you okay? He didn’t hurt you?” Danielle nodded and then shook her head in turn, in response to the questions.

  “He didn’t hurt me,” she said. “I’m—physically, anyway—okay.”

  “Good,” Victor said. He kissed her again, more lightly, and exhaled a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding.

  “But I still fucked up,” Danielle said.

  “Let’s wait until we get up to the apartment and you can tell me all about it,” Victor suggested. Danielle nodded, and he pulled her close again, hugging her tightly as the elevator made the rest of its way up through the floors to his apartment on the top level.

  Back in the apartment, Victor made a beeline to the kitchen with Danielle’s hand in his still, and only let go of her to pour her a glass of wine. They were both silent as he got himself another beer and then they moved, as one, to the kitchen island. “Go ahead,” Victor said, raising his beer to clink it against Danielle’s glass of wine lightly.

  “I got him to admit it,” Danielle said, after taking the ceremonial sip of her wine. “I got him to admit it, but he was so...he was so bald-faced about it, that I got pissed.” She took another, deeper sip and then set the glass down, closing her eyes. “I stormed away, and somehow knocked the recorder loose so he could see it, and he grabbed it from me and destroyed it.” She turned her gaze onto Victor and sighed again.

  “That’s all? He didn’t hurt you or threaten you?” Danielle raised an eyebrow.

  “What do you mean ‘that’s all’?” She frowned at him. “That’s bad enough isn’t it?”

  “It’s not bad, actually,” Victor said, smiling slightly.

  “The whole point of the recorder and all of it was to get him on the record,” Danielle said. Victor’s smile grew.

  “We still have him on the record,” he told her.

  “He destroyed it, though!” Victor leaned in close to Danielle and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

  “It’s a special kind of recorder,” he explained. “It doesn’t just create the physical copy on the drive on it—it also continuously uploads to the cloud. So, whether he destroyed it or not, there’s a copy of everything.” Victor paused for the significance to come clear to Danielle and watched as her eyes widened. “Including him snatching i
t off of you.”

  “Holy shit,” Danielle said. “So—so we still have it?” Victor nodded.

  “We still have the recording,” he confirmed. Danielle took a large gulp of her wine and smiled in relief.

  “It feels good to know that, but not as good as I would think,” she admitted.

  “Why not?” Victor frowned.

  “It was how it went down,” Danielle explained. “Beyond just him destroying the recorder, the whole...the fact that he knew I was recording him.” Victor considered that and nodded. If Sam knew that his sister was recording him, that would be—potentially, at least—a major betrayal.

  “It is probably going to make things uncomfortable and awkward between the two of you,” Victor said drily.

  “I hate him, right now,” Danielle said flatly. She shook her head. “He...he wasn’t even ashamed about what he’d done. He’d purposely had me donate your money to those places, fooled me about it, set it up so that I would choose those charities to punish me.” Danielle scowled.

  “So then it’s not like he has much right to get pissed at you for recording him,” Victor pointed out. Danielle laughed bitterly.

  “I mean it doesn’t matter if he has the right, he is pissed,” Danielle said. “Probably as pissed as I am at him for putting me in this position.” She met Victor’s gaze and Victor could see the pain in her eyes, the fact that her anger was covering something much deeper: betrayal, sadness, grief.

  “What do you want to do?” Danielle smiled wryly.

  “Right now, I just want to finish this glass of wine, have another, and maybe take a shower,” she said. Victor mirrored her smile, with a little more warmth behind it.

  “Do you want some company in the shower?” He raised an eyebrow. Danielle chuckled—and some of the bitterness, some of the upset in her voice had gone away.