Something bubbled up her throat. At first, she thought it was her ongoing anger getting the best of her, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was Jackson getting to her?
He cornered me. He tried to touch me. He could have…
That bastard. That scoundrel. Thatpiece of shit.
Monica flung her face into the nearest couch pillow and screamed. All of the fear and rage ripped through her like a windstorm decimating the meager wood frame holding her body together. Nobody ever gave her the chance to be built with brick or concrete. She was natural but fragile. Beautiful, but temporal. Henry had tried to help her build something strong, but her foundation had always been weak.
Her throat gave out. So did her body. When Monica’s voice petered off, she remained glued to the pillow, squeezing the cotton cover as her foot kicked against the carpet.
Henry knelt beside her, hand on her shoulder.
“I’m always amazed,” he said when she finally relented to her sapped strength, “at how powerful the women in this family are. You, my sister, her wife… if our daughter comes out half as unbeatable, then I don’t have to worry about her growing up. You can get through anything.”
Monica pulled her face up, wiping her damp hair away from her eyes. “What does that make you?” she croaked.
“One lucky bastard.”
Monica allowed herself to hunch forward, her useless hands picking at each other as they fell into her lap. “I keep thinking that I’m not strong enough. That Abigail will be ashamed of who I am one day. And what if I get us all in trouble because of my business? I can’t be doing it forever. I need to put her first.”
“There’s no reason for you to not have your business and be a mother. You’ve already pulled back so much from work.”
“Which is exactly how Jackson managed to sneak in…”
“Stop. There’snothingwrong with you. You’re exactly the mother our daughter needs.”
“Submissive to a fault, am I?”
Henry shook his head. “There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t radiating with power. You’re just quiet about it. You’re observant, and all the more dangerous for it.”
“I just don’t know what to do. Jackson, he…”
Henry held her face between his hands. “You’re going to stop thinking about him right now.” His thumb rubbed her cheekbone, and she was compelled to hold his hand as she attempted to imagine such a feat. “For the rest of the day. No more Jackson. No more my mother. We’re going to let thesefeelings make their point, and then focus on our family. We can strategize tomorrow when we’ve rested.”
“Yes.” Monica leaned into his palm. “Strategize. You know I love a good strategy.”
Finally, after all of those harsh words and intense emotions, he lightly kissed her, pushing their foreheads together.
All they had both needed was to feel whole with the other.
Chapter 22
Agency
Lyse thought she was crazy, but in that“It just might work,”way. Monica figured she didn’t have much to lose. After all, the IRS was already breathing down her neck, threatening to upend her lifeandthe lives of her employees if she didn’t put this to bed right now.
Judith asked to be in the room when this went down at Le Salon, but Monica told her – honestly, begged her – to stay away. Huffing, Judith collected her things and left the salon before the agents from the IRS field office arrived. Lyse Fischer and one of her assistants were there to represent Monica, who had refreshments set out for everyone in the main lounge area when Agents Muller and Haskins arrived at the appointed time.
Monica didn’t waste time diving into her offer and Lyse made it clear that what was probably flagging the system was Onyx Blue’s lofty investments.
While Monica couldn’t provide irrefutable written proof that Jackson Lyle owned Onyx Blue, she knew the IRS could figure it out if put on his tail. And that wasn’t the only information she was willing to offer in return for the spotlight being removed from her.
“You were his partner over ten years ago,” Agent Muller, who appeared to be the lead agent on this case, said after flipping through the documents Monica provided. “Unfortunately, the farthest back we can go into an investigation is six years, and only if we find substantial errors in the past three years.”
She gestured to the papers on the table between them. “This is from the past two alone. Isn’t that enough for you to get started?”
“Mrs. Warren…” Agent Muller was as tall as Henry, as gauged from the way he bracketed his knees open with his elbows when he leaned forward. “We appreciate what you’re trying to do. But unless you know of Mr. Lyle’s unpaid taxes from the past three years, I’m not sure there’s a deal to be made here.”
“Isn’t Onyx Blue proof enough that he’s funneling money into investments without claiming it on his taxes?”
