Solace in Scandal (22 page)

Alex nodded in dismissal. ‘Thank you. That will be all.’

The three men turned like soldiers who’d been given their marching orders. They left as silently as they’d appeared.

Elena looked up into Alex’s face. He appeared calm and in control. He was back in the scene and on his game.

He was also more closed off than she’d seen him in a long time.

He ran a finger along her cheek. ‘You’re pale.’

It had already been a challenging day. ‘I’ve discovered I’m not a fan of helicopter rides.’

He pulled her over to the bar and took his place behind it. He searched briefly before finding another bottle of the white wine she liked so well.

He popped the cork like an expert. ‘You seemed to enjoy the flight.’

That part had been thrilling. She’d loved the views of the lake and the countryside and Bedford. Things had gotten a bit too exciting when they’d made it to the city. ‘The flying part is fine. It’s the landing I could do without.’

They’d used the East 34th Street heliport, which had the FDR overpass practically on top of it. The approach had been nerve-wracking, but once they were on the ground, the location was convenient. A limo had been waiting only steps away, and the drive to the penthouse had been short.

She took the glass he handed her and sipped. She looked at him over the edge of the flute. ‘How does it feel to be back?’

He unbuttoned his jacket and glanced around the place. As she watched, the line of his jaw hardened.

‘Like it’s about damn time.’

She recognised that cool, determined look, but she could appreciate it better now. ‘What are your plans?’

That sharp grey gaze landed on her. ‘Our plans.’

Warmth unfurled in her chest. She was glad he considered this a partnership, but she was definitely the weaker link. She wasn’t as brave as he was or as focused. People were still angry, and they had questions. His return would poke the hornets’ nest.

If anyone recognised her, that would only compound the problem.

‘Easy.’ Rounding the bar, he took her hand.

She didn’t know who needed the other’s support more right now.

Together, they walked back to take in the spectacular view.

The sky was heavy. Dark and moody. It was the same sky that hovered over the rural part of the state, but the feel of the city was entirely different. New York had an energy like no other. It was stimulating and scary. Everything was going in top gear. Part of Elena craved that energy and wanted to dive back into it.

Yet a bigger part of her wished she was in the peaceful, secluded confines of the lake house.

She sipped from her glass again, and he squeezed her hand.

‘Are you ready for the board meeting tomorrow?’ she asked.

‘I’ve read all the materials. It’s going to be contentious.’

Couldn’t anything be easy any more? She worried about him walking alone into that meeting, but she knew, if she went, it would only cause even more of a distraction. She’d read the materials, too, and the company was in chaos. Alex might not have any connection with Wolfe Financial on paper, but it had been in his family for over a hundred years. Someone needed to do something. The board itself had been floundering.

‘How are you going to reclaim your good name?’ She hoped he was going to step up. WF needed someone who knew how to take control and wasn’t afraid to make the tough decisions. Right now, the financial institution was leaderless.

He looked pensive as he swirled his drink. ‘There is no good Wolfe name any more.’

She breathed slowly. That was right. His grandfather was still out there, running from his responsibilities. Then again, the Bardot name had lost its lustre, too.

He tossed back a gulp of whiskey, gritted his teeth and put the empty glass on an end table. ‘I’m not going to fight it any more.’

Her hair swished as her head swung around. ‘Why not?’

She’d never considered him to be one who would just take the abuse and slander.

‘There’s no use looking back.’ He smiled harshly. ‘They say that the best revenge is living well.’

She frowned. ‘You don’t mean that.’

‘The hell I don’t.’ He waved his hand over the city. ‘I’m done hiding, and I’m not about to apologise.’

There it was, that anger that poked through the surface every so often. It had made fewer appearances recently, but she was beginning to understand it wasn’t going away. That anger was bone deep inside him.

She put down her drink and moved closer. As warm as his body was, he was stiff and uncompromising. She cosied up to him, trying to take some of that anger away. She knew she had power over it, and it didn’t scare her.

His fury was justified. He’d taken the brunt of the blame in the scandal, simply because he’d been available. Bartholomew hadn’t been around and her father had been dead. Alex had a right to be outraged, but she didn’t like how it ate him up from the inside.

She spread a hand over his chest above his heart, and he wrapped his arms around her.

‘You think I should beg for forgiveness.’

She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t. But you have to understand the way people think. Your grandfather still hasn’t faced the accusations, and you’re the closest thing to him.’

‘I’m not my grandfather.’ Alex snorted in derision. ‘And he won’t be saying he’s sorry, that’s for sure.’

Her fingers paused where she was stroking his tie.

Letting go of her, he drew a hand through his hair. ‘He never apologised for anything he did in his life. Ever.’

Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked fast. The bastard. How could someone do the things that man had done and not feel the slightest bit of remorse?

Then again, her father had never said he was sorry either.

Not even in his suicide note.

She closed her eyes and cleared her throat.

‘I’m nervous about this,’ she confessed. ‘Maybe returning to New York wasn’t such a good idea.’

‘There’s no going back now.’ He cupped her chin. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.’

‘But who’s going to protect you?’

He laughed, but the sound held no humour. ‘I don’t need anyone to protect me. They’ve already done their damnedest. What more could they do?’

She shivered, not wanting to think about that. Going up on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek. ‘It’s not much, but I’ve got your back.’

His nose brushed against hers as he looked into her face. ‘That’s not “not much”, pretty siren. It’s everything.’

* * *

The press was waiting the next day, milling about on the Park Avenue sidewalk. They knew what time the Wolfe Financial board meeting was, and they knew there was a good chance they’d finally see their target today. Alex Wolfe had avoided them for too long, locked down in the Wolfe compound. He’d travelled back to the city yesterday, though, and all indicators pointed to the meeting as the reason.

They couldn’t help but salivate.

It was a juicy story. They’d squeezed as much out of it as they could a year and a half ago, but it was spinning up again. The heartthrob tech whiz convicted of white-collar crimes was returning to the city he’d once ruled. Had prison changed the boy wonder? Was he more humble now? Had the degradation beaten him down? Was he finally ready to admit to his wrongs?

Or had the time he’d spent on the inside made him even more dangerous? The sharp-dressed billionaire had always had an edge.

Would The Ax be out for revenge?

People wanted to know, and it was their job to dig up the facts.

A black limousine pulled up to the kerb, and the mob went on the alert. Reporters checked their mics, and cameramen stooped to try to see through the darkened windows. Was this it? A murmur went through the crowd when the driver stepped out. He closed the door, tugged at his jacket sleeves and made sure they covered his shirt cuffs. He tucked in his chin and pulled back his shoulders as he rounded the car. The guy was built like a Mack truck.

It was the Mr T Mohawk, though, that gave him away. This was the same driver who’d picked up Wolfe at the prison. The man took his place at the car’s passenger-side door and glared at them.

Excitement rose. Simultaneously, heads turned to the posh building’s front door. The doorman became twitchy. He stared over their heads, ignoring them, but tugged at the collar of his uniform as if it were too tight.

A reporter up front stood on tiptoe and saw movement inside. ‘He’s coming.’

The message passed swiftly through the crowd. Alex Wolfe was about to make an appearance. The group compacted, bodies bumping and arms tangling as they thrust their microphones forward. Their time would be short. The distance from the door to the car was only about ten feet. They had to make this count.

‘Mr Wolfe,’ more than one person called as the door finally opened.

Instead of the good-looking tycoon, a mean-looking bodyguard stepped out. He was pumped and amped. His sunglass-covered gaze swung around from left to right, and more than one skinny cameraman took a step back. If anyone got out of line, this guy was ready to squash them like a bug.

The hungry group of reporters waited.

Their caution was thrown to the wind when two more bodyguards bulldozed through the door. The Ax was at the security team’s centre.

Questions started shooting through the air like darts.

‘Mr Wolfe! How does it feel to be back?’

‘What was it like on the inside?’

‘What do you plan to say to your investors?’

That one finally stuck. Their interview subject’s chin swung towards them, and it was set in stone. ‘They’re not my investors. I wasn’t a part of Wolfe Financial.’

‘Yet you’re going to their board meeting, right?’

The security team kept their client moving, and the group shuffled along after them. Hips bumped and elbows dug.

‘I’ll be speaking during the open public comment period,’ the man said flatly. ‘At the board’s behest.’

Another reporter jumped forward and the front bodyguard blocked him with a straight arm. The reporter kept coming, though, trying to crawl over the sentinel as he threw out his question. ‘Do you plan to apologise? Will you tell them where the money went?’

Wolfe slowed. As big as his men were, the crowd was impeding their progress.

‘I had no involvement in that unspeakable crime.’

‘How can you say that?’ the reporter pressed. ‘You just spent the last year in prison.’

That got a response. The Ax turned, his body clenched. ‘Get your facts right. I was convicted of insider trading, even though I had written orders instructing my traders to sell Wolfe Financial stock if it fell below one-twenty.’

‘Are you saying you were a scapegoat?’

Putting down his shoulder, the front bodyguard moved Jimmy Olsen about five feet back from where he’d started, but it was too late. The rest of the reporters picked up his line of questioning.

‘What about your grandfather?’ someone in the back yelled. ‘Have you heard from him? Is he in Belize?’

‘No comment,’ Wolfe snapped.

The driver wedged open the limo’s door and planted his massive form in front of it. The bodyguards became more aggressive and marched forward. The crowd had no option but to part and get out of their way.

One last reporter tried from his position, squashed up next to the kerb. ‘Are you back in New York to stay?’

The question was met with silence as Wolfe entered the vehicle and the door was closed behind him. The all-black limousine offered no more answers and no more shots. The opaque windows blocked their view of the elusive, enigmatic man. Still, the news crews took what video they could as the driver pulled out from the kerb and drove away.

The moment the car blended into traffic, the cameras powered down and the crews rushed to their vans. Considering the dearth of communication they’d had with Alex Wolfe since his release, they’d just scored big.

* * *

More reporters awaited in FiDi, the financial district in the southernmost section of Manhattan. They’d been put on alert by their colleagues up on Park Avenue, and they were on the hunt when the limousine pulled up. Microphones were ready, earpieces were in place and cameras were rolling as the black limousine cruised to a stop in front of the building on Wall Street.

The driver eyed the crowd suspiciously as he rounded the car to open the back door. Moving with the synchronicity of a pit crew, bodyguards spilled out and took their positions. A tall, good-looking man rose in their midst, smoothly buttoning his suit jacket.

The press swarmed, hungrier now that they’d gotten a taste.

They jockeyed for position, trying to get the best shots. The Ax had always gleamed under the spotlight. His handsome features and playboy ways had made him a media darling. With one snap of a camera, the reporters could sense the change. This version of the man was different. Harder, leaner and more dangerous. His sunglasses hid his reactions to their presence, but the line of his lips was flat and his steps were clipped.

Put him in a black suit and tie, and he would have blended in with the security detail perfectly.

‘Mr Wolfe, what were you doing at Wolfe Manor over the past month? Why the long retreat?’ A balding newspaperman stepped forward, his pen and notebook at the ready. ‘Were you contemplating your actions?’

Wolfe didn’t even blink.

An entertainment reporter held her microphone suggestively, stroking her thumb up and down its side. With her big hair and fake breasts, it was clear she was trying another tactic. ‘Barbara Tyson is in town filming a movie. Have you seen you seen her since your release, Ax?’

The bleached blonde was disappointed when the question bounced right off, but the crowd wasn’t ready to be deterred.

Another female reporter stepped right into the path of the lead bodyguard. She was just as beautiful, but with her short pixie cut and black-rimmed glasses she had ‘intrepid’ written all over her. ‘How about Elena Bardot?’

That got a response.

Alex Wolfe made an abrupt halt. Around him, his security detail closed ranks.

The sharp brunette’s eyes sparked. ‘Caroline Woodward, WABC News.’

She held up a crisp 8X10 black-and-white photograph of the billionaire entrepreneur leaving a helicopter with a dark-haired woman at his side. ‘We took this shot of you yesterday when you arrived in the city. Sources have identified your companion as Elena Bardot, daughter of Randolph Bardot, former CFO of Wolfe Financial.’