“Your three-month cushion is gone?”
She remembered that? Something he’d mentioned maybe once? He didn’t even recall telling her about his habit of keeping liquid cash to pay three months’ worth of bills.
“No.” It was money that wasn’t there. Couldn’t be touched. A lesson repeated to him over and over from the grandmother who’d been cranky with pain, too old to be saddled with a healthy, active wannabe surfer boy, but who’d loved him wholeheartedly.
Thinking of the old woman who’d died the year before he met Sage seemed to put Gray on a clearer track. Reminded him who he was—not who they’d been...
When Sage shook her head, her hair fell around her shoulders. They seemed to sink beneath the weight. Weren’t as straight as they had been. Like his news had taken the air out of her wings.
“I’m guessing now that you know I’m broke, you aren’t as impressed by the good work I did all these years...” The words were beneath him. Unfair. Cruel.
She’d given him her whole heart when he’d been a pauper. Had never once even hinted at any kind of prenuptial agreement, even though she had a sizable trust from her mother.
But that deflated look...as though he’d disappointed her...got his dander up.
“That was unfair.” She held his gaze, mostly because he made himself withstand the punishment.
“I know. Truth of the matter is I’m not all that eager to tell you what you’re going to find when you go over the accounts.”
“There better not be anything illegal hidden there.” She sounded more like a parent warning a child than an attorney talking to a client.
“There isn’t.”
Sitting back, she took up her pen, poised over the legal pad that she’d angled, ready for writing, and settled more firmly on her lap.
Gray ran a hand over his face, sat back, dropped both hands on the chair arms again, really relaxed that time, as he gave up the fight.
“I didn’t think big enough,” he told her. Appreciated the way she focused, listening, and yet, when he paused after the dramatic opening statement, waited for him to collect his thoughts and go on.
“When I incorporated GB Animal Clinics—I opened a series of bank accounts.”
Her nod didn’t seem so much encouraging as it was an acceptance of the practice.
“One of the accounts, and only one, was in my name only. I’m the only signer on it. The firm’s lawyer and, later, an accountant, had access to all the others. And as we grew, each clinic had its own spending account with the senior veterinarian a signer on that account.”
So far, so good. She’d jotted a couple of things. Was still seemingly focused and on the job. But then, he hadn’t gotten to the foolish part yet.
Rather, he had, but he hadn’t yet exposed his very large, very immature, mistake.
“I opened the account when I hired the accountant who oversaw all of GB Animal Clinics’ payroll, among other things. I have always been on salary, just like everyone else, with any proceeds being fed back into the business. As we became more successful, and at the advice of said accountant, I eventually set up a bonus plan for all clinic employees, on a tiered percentage rate. I was top tier, by five percent. The other senior veterinarians were five percent ahead of the veterinarians that worked for them and so forth down the line.”
He was stalling. If she’d figured that out, she had the grace not to say so.
“My bonus, which grew into a substantial amount, was also deposited directly into the account with only my name on it.”
Her pen held in midair, Sage said, “You’re about to tell me that you didn’t invest the money or put it in some kind of money market account. You just left it there.”
She always had been sharp. “Yes.” He said it straight-out. And then, not looking away, added, “Most of it. I invested a small amount. A sum I felt safe losing. It’s what I’ve been living off for the past five months.”
Sage didn’t grimace or shake her head. She didn’t send him a pitying glance. Instead, she wrote something and then said, “I need all the account information. My first challenge is going to be to get that one account unfrozen. It’s legally your money. We can prove it’s your money. We just need to get the judge to listen to reason...”
Gray stared at her. Just stared. She made it sound so easy. So doable.
“You’re a corporate attorney, just like the two men I’ve had on my team for years. You have to represent the corporation, not me. That’s why I’m selling my house. So that I can hire the best team I can find to represent me, personally.”
She nodded. “I know the way the law works, Gray,” she said, a slight smile on her lips. And in her voice, too.
Gaining her an extremely inappropriate nudge of appreciation from beneath his jacket. Which was where it stayed. And would stay. Completely undetected.
