Just tell me, already!”
“Mr. Fletcher’s casino ATM withdrawals total more than ten thousand—”
“Holy shit! My credit limit’s only—”
“Yes, I’m afraid we’ve got a problem there, too.” He handed her the little legal pad and a sleek black pen promoting the Aphrodite. “You’d best list all the credit cards you were carrying, while I call their hotlines, so you can report them as stolen.”
Dazed, Lola jotted down all the Visas and Discovers and American Expresses she could recall, ready to kick herself because some of them were accounts for Well Suited. Ordinarily she left those cards at home as a security precaution, but she’d hoped to do some buying on this trip—find novel Caribbean accessories and clothing designs her upper-crust clients would pay top dollar for.
If Dennis had accessed those accounts—
But dammit, as her financial advisor, he didn’t even need her plastic to do that! He had her account numbers. Knew her business inside out, as far as her finances went. Including her credit limits.
“Thank you,” she wheezed when Kingsley handed her the phone.
He was genteel enough to leave the office and shut the door, but his gesture didn’t save much of her dignity. There was damn little of it left.
The lady rep was courteous and efficient, but it was still the conversation from hell. When she hung up, Lola felt so numb she couldn’t move from the chair. Might as well die right here, because now she couldn’t afford to be buried anywhere else. A simple wrapping of her body…it would slide down the board for a burial at sea, just like in the old movies….
Her thoughts were spiraling downward from there, and she sat gripping the lapels of her robe when Kingsley poked his head in. Knuckles white with her fury, she began to shake all over. More than revenge against Dennis Fletcher, what she really needed right now was that pack of Camels.
“As bad as we expected?” came his genteel British inquiry.
She nodded, staring blankly at the top of his desk. “Not only my personal accounts, but my business ones, too. Fletch cleaned them out, systematically—like the thorough financial manager he is. The day before we left home.”
Mr. Kingsley’s brows puckered as he let out a sympathetic gasp. “I’m rather surprised you weren’t notified about such large withdrawals—”
“Oh, the rep said she’d been trying to call me about all this unusual account activity, but I wasn’t at home or at the office—and Fletch conveniently stole my cell phone today, before I could check for messages.” Lola rolled her eyes in disgust and desperation. “I made a point of turning that damn phone off for this romantic vacation! Obviously a huge mistake!
“Which means,” she wheezed, wishing her humiliation would just swallow her whole and get it over with, “that he planned this whole thing before we ever left. Had that floozy from Aruba all lined up—one of his brokerage contacts, no doubt. Had that seaside villa reserved because—because—he never intended to marry me! I booked the cruise, but it seems Dennis Fletcher took me for the ride.”
Kingsley’s sigh filled the little sanctum. “I’ll do my very best to rectify this, Miss Wright. You have my word on it. Please feel free to remain here until you’ve composed yourself, my dear. I’ll be right outside, and your wish is my command. Tea, sympathy—a good stiff drink. You name it.”
A pack of Camel Turkish Jades and a Bic to flick, she almost blurted.
And why didn’t she? It was a simple request, even if she’d have to stay on the starboard side of the decks, which were designated for smoking, or in the bars where they still allowed pariahs like her to puff.
Picked a helluva time to quit, didn’t you? And you did it for Fletch, no less. Because he challenged you to, and you loved him!
Lola smacked her palm with her fist, disgusted with the way this whole thing was coming down. Here she sat in the concierge’s office, having a meltdown nicotine fit, when her entire world was coming unstuffed like a feather pillow Fletch had stabbed again and again…much like he’d played slasher with her heart and mind and soul. Why had she ignored the signs? And the remarks her friends had made about how fast and loose Fletch liked to play?
Which was one of the things you adored about him. A risk-taker, just like you, babe!
But she couldn’t sit here all night, beating herself up.
And, as Lola thought about it, the credit card rep had said she’d get right on it: stop payment on those charges, to keep her credit rating from going down the toilet with the whoosh of a cruise ship flush button. It would take some time, considering the amount of damage Dennis had done, but everyone was on her side. They weren’t blaming her for all those bills, or holding her accountable for her poor choice of financial managers.
She was a free woman.
Well, she’d been left in a very expensive predicament, but her problem was gone now, wasn’t he? And his funds had been cut off. Dennis Fletcher could sponge off that floozy from Aruba now: sweet talk her with the same pretty lines he’d used while they planned this cruise.
I’m free—unattached! And I kept my trophy diamond!
The sparkle of the rock on her left hand made Lola smile. She wouldn’t be the only patsy. She wasn’t the only fool who’d fallen for the illusion of love or for a shyster’s lies. Someday that vixen with the villa would be in a world of hurt, too.
She let out the breath she’d been holding. Automatically reached down to where she would’ve set her purse, and then rolled her eyes at this habitual gesture.
Habits! Who needed them? Maybe it was time to break a few—and pick up some new ones while she was on this trip. After all, it was paid for before they left home. It was her trip, and by God she might as well enjoy what was left of it!
After all, I’m free now! A single woman on an adults-only cruise!
Lola’s pulse picked up and she stood—tummy tucked, shoulders back, head held high! If she couldn’t enjoy a fantasy situation like this, well, she did have a problem. And it had nothing to do with money.
4
When she stepped out into Kingsley’s desk area, the concierge was talking in hushed tones with Rio DeSilva and another dashing man in dress whites. The three turned with encouraging smiles—which meant they’d been talking about her.
See there? You ARE important enough that the most gallant, handsome men aboard this ship—
Lola’s jaw dropped. The man in the uniform of blinding white, with the Mediterranean tan and laugh lines, and that raven hair laced with silver, was none other than Captain Scandalous! He was even more of a Greek god in person than on TV. And he was smiling at her. Drinking her in with obsidian eyes that sparkled with plans!
“Miss Wright, let me express my regrets for the unfortunate situation Mr. Fletcher has left you in,” he crooned, oozing with ambiance as he offered his hand. “Captain Skorpio Skandalis. Pleased to meet you, despite such unfortunate circumstances.”
Lola
