Her Man Friday(69)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

"When you decide what will be enough for you, Caroline," he told her, "call me."

Without awaiting a response, knowing, she supposed, that she wouldn’t have one to give him, he turned and strode easily through her living room, to the front door. Just as he had the night before, he left without once looking back.

And more than anything else in the world, Caroline found herself envying him his ability to do that.

Chapter Eighteen

Lily was surprised when Schuyler returned to Ashling before nine o’clock. After all, he was alone when he did. What wasn’t surprising, however, was that he was in a surly mood when he arrived. After all, he was alone when he did.

She intercepted him in the gallery as he made his way toward the east wing, matching her stride to his with no small effort. Boy, was he mad about something, she thought. And it was only going to get worse.

"We have a problem," she said by way of a greeting. But, because he didn’t answer her, because he seemed to be focused on something else entirely, she offered nothing more until they reached his bedroom.

Bedrooms, plural, was more like it, she thought, as she invariably did whenever she came to his suite. As so many other areas of the house were, Schuyler’s set of rooms was an utterly masculine retreat. The dark mahogany-paneled walls were interrupted only occasionally by even darker oil paintings of hunt scenes. All the furnishings were mahogany, too, as was the massive four-poster bed he claimed as his own. The carpet was an expansive Aubusson spattered with rich, deep jewel tones of ruby, sapphire, emerald, and amethyst, and the only light afforded this time of night came from a large, but none-too-bright, Art Deco lamp in the image of the sun that was fixed at the center of the ceiling.

On any other occasion, Lily might have found the room cozy in a macho, dark, film noir kind of way. But not tonight. Not when the house of cards the two of them had built together by hand over the last decade was about to come crashing down around them.

"Schuyler," she said when he remained silent. "Did you hear me? I said we have a problem."

He jerked off his tuxedo jacket and shirt—God alone knew what had happened to all the studs, because Lily sure wasn’t going to ask him—and tossed both, without looking at them, onto an ox-blood leather chair near the bed. His bare back gleamed like gold in the soft light before he disappeared into a walk-in closet that was roughly the size of New Hampshire.

"Who the hell cares?" he snapped from inside.

Lily curled her fingers into fists. "I care, Schuyler. Our man Freiberger is looking to send me up the river."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, still not emerging from inside the closet.

"If he has his way, I’m destined for stripes."

"Lily. Darling. You want to tell me something that makes sense now?"

Lily wondered where to begin, then decided she might as well just start with that crystal clear moment when her entire life exploded in her face. "When I went up to my room to change for dinner tonight, who do you think I found there?"

Schuyler emerged from the closet then, tying the sash of a flowing midnight blue silk robe over his bare chest and matching pajama bottoms. "The big, bad wolf?" he guessed.

She nodded. "Yeah, pretty much."

He sighed heavily, as if he really didn’t want to be bothered by her this evening, then strode to the bar on the other side of the room and uncapped a bottle of cognac. "Join me?" he asked.

"You bet," she replied readily.

Lily, too, had finally changed out of her work clothes, but still considered it a bit early to be in her pajamas, so had opted for a pair of gray fleece sweats and an oversize, white man-style shirt. She’d pulled her hair to the crown of her head in a ponytail, and it tickled the back of her neck as she tossed her head to one side.

"I’m assuming," Schuyler said as he handed her a large snifter of cognac, "that this big, bad wolf is none other than our illustrious Mr. Freiberger?"

She nodded. "But I don’t think his name is really Leonard Freiberger," she said.

Schuyler rolled his eyes. "Lily. Darling. That goes without saying. Did you honestly think it was?"

"I don’t know," she said. "At this point, I have no idea what hit me."

Schuyler inhaled deeply again, and released the breath slowly. "So what happened?"

"He accessed my files, Schuyler. The ones in my laptop."

The snifter he had been lifting to his mouth stopped well short of completing the action. When he looked at Lily, she realized that he finally, finally, understood the magnitude of what had happened. "All of them?" he asked cautiously.

"Well, enough to think he’s uncovered millions of dollars worth of fraud and theft."

Schuyler’s entire body slumped forward. "Oh, fabulous."

"And he thinks I’m the one who’s the thief."

That, at least, made Schuyler bark with laughter. "You? A thief? Oh, how wonderfully rich. Darling Lily steals millions. Film at eleven. What kind of idiot is the man?"

"One who has a little knowledge," she said. "And a little knowledge—"

"Is a dangerous thing," he finished for her.

"Especially in this case. I tried to explain—"

Schuyler’s expression went utterly glacial. "You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t do that."

She hesitated only a moment before revealing, "He didn’t give me a chance."

"Well, thank God for small miracles."

"But I would have told him the truth, Schuyler," Lily continued, wanting to make sure he knew where she stood on this. "I would have told him everything, if I’d thought he would listen."

This time Schuyler’s expression punctuated his fear. "Lily, you can’t do that. You can’t tell him the truth. It would ruin everything."

"I may not have any choice."

"No. You promised me. Lily. You promised."

"But, Schuyler…" She exhaled a weary sigh. "He thinks I’m a thief."

"He’ll get over it."

"No, he won’t. He’s not going to let this go." She might as well tell Schuyler everything. He’d find out soon enough. "He’s preparing a report to take to the board of directors."

Once again, Schuyler’s body slumped forward. "When?" he asked.

"I don’t know," she said. "But I think it’s safe to assume it won’t take him long to put it all together. Or, at least, put together what he thinks is going on. And the only thing worse than him telling the board what he thinks is going on is having them find out what’s really going on. You know how they are. You know how they’ll react. You know what this will mean to the company. We have to tell Leo the truth."