Page 41 of The Prince's Secret Daughter
Paul’s face turned white, but Nathan only seemed mildly confused. “Why is that a problem? My contacts with the police tell me that you’re not implicated in any crime.” He shrugged. “What’s the problem?”
Alfonse wasn’t in the mood to explain. He put his hands together, almost in a prayerful way, resting the tips of his fingers against his lips. “It’s unfortunate that you don’t see the issue.” He paused, sighing as he shifted the file folder on his desk. “I received a message from someone by the name of Darrel Watson.” Alfonse watched the men carefully. That name got Nathan’s attention. Good! “Mr. Watson informed me that he had never considered selling his property in downtown Chicago.” He didn’t move, just watched the men’s reactions. They were telling. “The same property that you sold to me six months ago, then gallantly sold to someone else when we all ‘realized’ thatthe bigger project couldn’t be accomplished.” Another pause and this time, Nathan squirmed. “Furthermore, Mr. Watson didn’t receive the payment for the sale of said property.” Another pause and both men’s Adam’s apples started bobbing.
“Darrel is a good client,” Paul started out, lying through his teeth. “He contacted me two years ago, asking me to sell his property. He gave me all of the details and I sent the proceeds of that sale to the bank account he specified.”
Good bluff, Alfonse thought, then shuffled some papers around on his desk. “I have a few contacts within the banking industry.” He flipped a paper around. “This is the account number where my bank sent the funds.” He pushed the paper closer, but not close enough for them to see from the chairs. The men would have to stand up to look at the document. They did and Alfonse nearly rolled his eyes.
Paul stepped back, prepared to sit down. But his guards had already taken the chairs away. Paul hit the floor before he realized the chairs were gone.
That was one of Alfonse’s power plays. Or perhaps it was more of a warning. A foreshadowing.
Both men looked around, startled. Two guards were standing at the door, their hands folded neatly in front of them and had the guest chairs next to them.
“I…uh…don’t recognize the bank account number,” Nathan lied. Again. “But we’ll check our records and, if we made a mistake, then we’ll fix it. Our reputation as investment agents is solid.”
Alfonse rolled his eyes. “This grows tedious, gentlemen.” He stood up, ready to move on to the next issue in his day. “You sold me a piece of property that wasn’t for sale, then pocketed the money. Then you turned around and told me that the other property owners didn’t want to sell the surrounding land, so you agreed to find a new buyer for the original site.” He braced his fists on the desk in front of him. “In other words, you swindled me.”
Nathan looked like he was about to throw up. The father was a bit more controlled. “We didn’t!” the old man replied and, if Alfonse didn’t know him to be a consummate con artist, the expression might have been believable.
He nodded to the guards at the door. “Show Mr. Riaggio in.”
A door opened and a shorter, meaner looking man stepped into the office. He looked at the two men who were now sweating and looking rather green, then over to Alfonse. “Are these the two who gave up the case?”
“That’s them,” Alfonse replied. He waved his hand dismissively. “Do what you want with them. They are all yours.”
Paul gasped and tried to step out of the way. “What the hell is going on?”
Alfonse was already moving on to the next issue of the day, ignoring the cries and demands of the two scam artists. Paul and Nathan would be dealt with, most likely in a very harsh way. In the end, they probably would have preferred dealing with the police, but that wasn’t going to happen.
He closed the file folder and set it off to the left side of his desk. “The case you agreed to hide at that warehouse site, the one that is currently at the police station, is actually the property of Mr. Riaggio. And now he is upset that several of his men are about to be arrested because the weapons in that case can link the men to various crimes.”
Riaggio glared at Alfonse. “This isn’t over between you and me,” he snarled, then lifted a finger signaling to the two guards, who literally lifted Nathan and Paul off their feet, and carried them from the room.
Alfonse smiled politely. “It never is.”
Micky Riaggio looked confused at the other man’s calm demeanor, but he didn’t say anything else. He simply walked out and slammed the door behind him.
“Tedious man,” Alfonse muttered, then pressed the button on his desk. “Ms. Titus, could you bring me some coffee and tell my next meeting that I’ll be in momentarily?” He had a few calls to make. Certain banks needed to be informed of a very large cash transfer. He flipped the document around and started the process to get his money back.
There was only a momentary pause before Emily Titus, his new personal assistant sauntered into the office. Her sweet smile and laughing blue eyes nearly made him drop the phone. Tightening his grip, Alfonse nodded his appreciation for the coffee. But he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from her long legs and pert ass.
With a grumble, he vowed, and not for the first time, to fire the temptress. And still, Emily Titus walked into his officeas if she had no idea how badly she was messing with his concentration.
Ten minutes later, two electronic transfers were finalized. He then called George, his accountant. “George, a large amount of money was just transferred into this account,” he explained and read off the numbers. “I need you to get a list of the employees of Grishom Investment Group. Divide that money equally among the employees. They are about to lose their jobs and they’re going to need some funds until they find new employment.”
Chapter 38
Angela’s little feet stomped down the hallway, her excitement making her steps erratic and fast. Her wide, curious eyes were locked on her mother, who was sitting on the couch, talking with her new daddy. Her tiny fingers gripped the edge of the door frame, peeking around the corner.
“What’s going on?” Angela asked, her voice high and eager, as she suddenly popped into the room with the sort of enthusiasm only a four-year-old could have. Her face lit up as she bounced up and down in place, a stuffed elephant under one arm and her favorite kangaroo under the other.
Helen smiled at her daughter, her heart swelling. “Come here, sweetie,” she said, patting the couch next to her. “We have some news to share with you.”
Angela hopped onto the couch in one dramatic leap, her pigtails flying behind her as she landed with a soft thud. “News? What news?” She looked between her mother and father, as if trying to read the answer on their faces.
Raj, with a grin on his face, nudged her gently. “Well, you see, we’ve been talking, and we’ve decided something very exciting…”
“Are we going to Disneyland?!” Angela blurted out, her voice rising in hope. She was already picturing princesses, castles, and a parade with Mickey Mouse.
