Chapter 27 Amber

Amber sat waiting in the lobby, annoyed as the clock ticked past the appointment time with Wade Ashford. She'd called, posing as Delancey-Flynn's acquisitions VP, and introducing herself as Beatrice Bennett. Ashford had made her wait an entire week before he was willing to clear some time for her. That alone had put her in a bad mood, and now he was making her wait again. She'd make him regret treating her with such little respect. She'd convinced Nancy to let her take the thumb drive and print out the contents, promising her that she'd negotiate with Wade to get compensation for her. At first Nancy had wanted to take the proof of her husband's ownership straight to the authorities, but Amber warned her that she might never see the money if she had to wait for a full-scale investigation. That would give him time to hide the money or for the authorities to seize it. Amber had no idea if that was true, but she made Nancy believe that her best shot was letting Amber take the lead.

The surroundings were lavish, ridiculous, really, for an office building, with an ornate coffered ceiling at least thirty feet high, two enormous chandeliers, and gold leaf columns separating the balcony from the lower level. Gleaming tile floors and art deco chairs dotted the lobby. There was even a Steinway grand piano. Nothing like flaunting your wealth, she thought. At half past two, someone finally came out to fetch her.

"Mr. Ashford will see you now."

Amber waited for an apology for being kept waiting but none came. She picked up her black Tod's briefcase and followed the woman down the hall to a bank of elevators. They rode up the twenty floors in silence and she was taken to another lobby. She was about to complain about more waiting, but the woman knocked on a door, and Wade appeared. He looked much the same as she remembered, maybe a little paunchier around the middle. He smiled at Amber and held out a hand.

"You must be Beatrice Bennett. Nice to meet you. Please come in." It was clear that he didn't remember her. But then again, in his eyes she had just been a lowly waitress when she met him in Gunnison, there to do his bidding. She couldn't remember if he'd been at Jake's funeral; there had been so many people attending and the day was a blur in her mind now. She shook his hand and went inside.

"Please have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine." She glanced around the large office, which screamed man cave. On the wall behind his desk was a lion's head, its teeth bared and dangerous looking, and on his desk sat a framed photo of a grinning Wade holding a rifle and standing next to a dead rhino. This asshole was a big-game hunter. How repulsive. She flexed her fingers, wishing for a moment when she could pick up a rifle and shoot this cowardly prick who paid big money to kill animals bred for slaughter. He took a seat behind his mammoth desk, kicked his boot-clad feet up onto it, and leaned back in the chair. "So, little lady, what exactly can I do for you?"

She stared at him for a moment, then spoke. "You can start by addressing me as Mrs. Bennett."

His eyes narrowed and his smile disappeared. "Pardon me?"

She leaned forward in her chair. "I'm not your little lady. And I don't appreciate having been kept waiting a half hour for a meeting that took a week to schedule."

His face turned red. He swung his legs down from his desk and stood up. "Now just a cotton-pickin' minute."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist. You're going to want to hear what I have to say."

He took a seat again, still scowling. "I'm listening."

"It has to do with a patent on innovative protective goggles. For some reason, the patent is in your name only, but you didn't invent them, did you?"

Wade shot up from his chair again, his voice rising. "You need to leave."

She pulled out some papers from her briefcase and tossed them onto his desk.

"I think you might want to look at these."

He sat, grabbing the papers and scanning, his eye widening.

"Where'd you get these?" He looked up at her, his eyes squinting in anger.

"The more salient question is, do you think you're going to get away with screwing over Shane Ellis?"

"Just who the hell are you?"

"I'm a businesswoman with a proposition. Now before we go any further, I want you to know there are more copies of those documents. If anything were to happen to me, say an auto accident or some other misfortune, they will be made public, and your despicable actions made known to everyone."

"What do you want?"

"Information, for starters. You own thirty percent of the private stock in White Orchid Designs. Did a onetime investment get you those shares or are you still funneling money into Daisy Ann Briscoe's company?"

He looked at her like she had two heads. "I don't understand. What does White Orchid have to do with this patent business? I thought you were here to get money for Nancy Ellis."

"Who said I'm here to help Nancy? An opportunist like yourself should understand." She pointed at the documents on the desk. "This is my leverage. You don't need to worry about why I want what I want. And you'd better not let Mrs. Briscoe know anything about this meeting. My husband, Hugo, and I are interested in investing in her company."

He gave her a confused look. "First you come in here threatening me, and now you're asking about investing. What do you really want? How much for your silence?"

Amber shook her head. "I don't want your money. I want information. How much did Valene Mart offer to buy the company?"

"I'm really not comfortable disclosing…"

She stood up. "Fine. I'll just share what I know with the authorities."

"Okay, okay. Don't pitch a hissy fit! They offered her thirty-one million. Much more than the company's worth. That's how anxious they were. We would have made a pretty penny."

"She turned them down. Why?"

"They wanted to mass-produce White Orchid Designs. She could've made a fortune, but Daisy Ann about had a stroke when I suggested she consider it."

"I guess when you already have a fortune it's easy to be cavalier about saying no." It made Amber sick to think how spoiled and entitled the little princess was.

"It's not just that. White Orchid means a lot to her. The original designs were her mama's. This company's like another one of her babies. She'd rather see it close than have it taken over by some huge company that will turn her jewelry into cheap imitations."

That confirmed what Amber had read from the article from a year ago. Good. Daisy Ann still didn't want them to buy her precious company.

"Back to our business, Mr. Ashford. We're no Valene Mart. We want to elevate her designs. We have contacts in Europe. Upscale with a capital U," she said, reeling off the false story she and Jackson had come up with. "We want twenty-five percent, and we're willing to make a generous offer for her shares."

"I'll try, but I'm telling you, she won't want to give up that much. She's hell-bent on keeping voting control."

Amber was out of patience. "She owns seventy percent right now. She'll have forty-five, you'll have thirty, and Delancey-Flynn, the new investor, twenty-five. Then when it's done, you'll sell us your shares as well."

Amber could see the lightbulb moment in his eyes.

"So you want controlling interest," he said.

"Precisely."

"What is this really about? Who are you?"

"I told you. I'm a businesswoman. Now do we have a deal?"

"How do I know you won't keep holding those papers over my head. What's to keep you from continuing to blackmail me?"

"Well, I guess you're just going to have to take my word for it. I don't care about what you did to Shane. If he was stupid enough to let it happen, that's on him. Besides, I have a feeling that things don't go well for people who screw you over. I don't want any trouble from you. You do this for me, and those papers will disappear. You'll talk Briscoe into taking a meeting?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. I don't know you from Adam. So you have some proof that Shane came up with the idea. All I have to say is that he sold it to me. After all, I did pay him."

"Well, maybe if his wife was dead too, that would work. But she's alive and willing to take you to court to prove that is not the case. You can either help me, or you can get yourself into a legal battle that will sully your reputation and hurt your bank account. So what do you say?"

He stared at her for a long moment before speaking. "Yes, ma'am," he answered, his voice laced with sarcasm. "But it's not gonna be easy."

Amber shrugged. "I imagine it will be easier than trying to explain why you stole someone else's idea and made millions. You have two weeks."