Millionaire's Women Part 48

Ellie turned away from the sardonic tone in Garek's voice. Opening a drawer, she stared down at the contents. She wouldn't let him bait her, she told herself grimly. She'd done nothing wrong. "Would you like some coffee?"

"How wifely you sound."

Closing the drawer with a small bang, she turned to face him. Then paused. She took a deep breath. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened. Robbie is sometimes a bit...impulsive. But he means well."

"I'm sure Al Capone and Bonnie and Clyde had pure motives, also."

She clenched her jaw until the filling in her back molar ached. "I'm sorry you were forced to spend the night here, but no harm done, right?" She pasted a smile on her face. "As you said, the marriage wasn't valid."

He didn't smile back. If anything, the angles of his face grew harsher. "My lawyer will take care of any legalities involved. I am instructing him, however, not to give you a single penny."

"Fine," she said. "I don't want anything from you."

His eyes narrowed. "You really expect me to believe that you're not going to make some claim against me?"

"I don't care what you believe, but that's the truth."

"That's good," he said. "Because you're not getting anything."

"Yes, you already said that." She was tired of his accusations, his suspicion. She stalked out of the kitchen, stepped to the front door and opened it, letting in a blast of cold air. Turning, she spoke across the small s.p.a.ce to where he stood in the kitchen doorway watching her. "You better go now and get your lawyer working on it right away."

Garek frowned as he approached her. She played the innocent so well. But he wasn't falling for it this time. "Very well. My lawyer will be in touch with you." He pulled on his coat and gloves. "I'm going to make certain that you're prosecuted for attempted fraud."

"Fine!" she said through gritted teeth. "Just go!"

Garek stepped toward the door. "My lawyer will also make certain that your lunatic cousin is sent back to jail-"

"Robbie?" For the first time Garek saw a crack in her facade. She shut the door abruptly. "You can't do that. Robbie didn't mean any harm-"

"Holding a gun on a person usually qualifies as intending harm. He belongs in prison-"

"He just needs a chance," she said fiercely. "If you do anything to hurt Robbie, I'll...I'll tell the whole story about our marriage to the tabloids."

So that that was how she intended to turn the situation to her advantage. He'd known she must have some plan up her sleeve. His anger, which had begun to fade, flared up to new heights. "Do whatever the h.e.l.l you like," he snarled. "I really don't give a d.a.m.n." was how she intended to turn the situation to her advantage. He'd known she must have some plan up her sleeve. His anger, which had begun to fade, flared up to new heights. "Do whatever the h.e.l.l you like," he snarled. "I really don't give a d.a.m.n."

He opened the door and strode out of the apartment. Head bent against the cold wind, he silently cursed himself for believing, just for a moment, that she was as innocent as she looked.

Chapter Ten.

Garek worked long, hard hours the next week. Other than giving his lawyer a terse explanation and an even terser set of instructions, he did not think of Eleanor Hernandez at all-except, perhaps, when he chanced to glance at the abstract painting hanging on his wall. Then he couldn't quite control the acid burn in his stomach.

He was searching his desk drawer for a roll of antacids as he talked on the phone to his production manager late Friday afternoon, when the door opened and Larry Larson, head of the legal department for Wisnewski Industries, entered the office.

"Let me get back to you, Ed." Garek hung up the phone, his gaze on Larry's face. "Well?"

"I've got good news and bad news." Larry sat down, carefully positioning the fall of his jacket as he seated himself.He had a fondness for expensive suits and a tendency to comb his hair across the bald spot on his crown, but he was an excellent lawyer, intelligent and efficient, and Garek knew he could count on him for sound advice.

"Go on," Garek said.

"The good news is that I spoke to several experts and they confirmed what I told you initially-any marriage involving coercion is automatically invalid. Also, after careful research, I've discovered that virtually every state refuses to recognize Internet marriage licenses. Ms. Hernandez will have a very difficult time making any claim against you."

Garek leaned back in his chair, his hard gaze not leaving the lawyer's face. "And the bad news?"

"The bad news-ah." Larry cleared his throat and adjusted his cuff. "The bad news is that coercion can be a difficult thing to prove. She could claim that the two of you married of your own free will. Then it would be her word against yours. Also, one or two states do recognize Internet marriage licenses. Vermont, for example, recognizes just about anything as a marriage. And unfortunately, Caspar Egilbert is is a legally ordained minister, even though the university he obtained his degree from is somewhat suspect. The unpleasant truth is that although I have no doubt that we would ultimately be successful, I'm afraid Ms. Hernandez could involve us in a very messy, very embarra.s.sing court case and the resulting publicity would not be good for the company. Stockholders want their CEOs to be above reproach these days-" a legally ordained minister, even though the university he obtained his degree from is somewhat suspect. The unpleasant truth is that although I have no doubt that we would ultimately be successful, I'm afraid Ms. Hernandez could involve us in a very messy, very embarra.s.sing court case and the resulting publicity would not be good for the company. Stockholders want their CEOs to be above reproach these days-"

"I don't care about the d.a.m.n stockholders." The anger Garek had been controlling all week flared dangerously high. "I'm not paying her one dime-"

"Yes, yes," Larry said hastily, fingering the knot of his tie. "Fortunately, that won't be necessary. If you'll look in this file, you'll see that I've taken care of all the paperwork."

Hard satisfaction replaced the burn in Garek's stomach. He took the thick file from Larry and opened it. Inside on top was a doc.u.ment giving him ownership of the gallery. He picked up a pen. "Did the accountant go over the books?"

"Yes, everything was in order. Although there was one thing that seemed a bit odd..."

Tensing, Garek glanced up. "What?"

"A donation to the Art Inst.i.tute a few days ago."

"What's so odd about that?"

"The artist was paid five thousand for the work. Coincidentally, a check you'd made out to Ms. Hernandez was cashed the same day..."

Garek's grip tightened on the pen.

"I called the Art Inst.i.tute and discovered that the donation had been made in your your name. I asked what exactly the donation was, and the woman said it was a sculpture of a giant..." Larry paused. name. I asked what exactly the donation was, and the woman said it was a sculpture of a giant..." Larry paused.

"A giant c.o.c.kroach?" Garek guessed.

Larry's nearly nonexistent eyebrows rose. "You knew about this?"

"Not exactly." Narrowing his eyes, Garek signed the deed and set it aside. He stared down at the next paper, a doc.u.ment stating that one Eleanor Hernandez relinquished all claims on him. "This is already signed," Garek observed.

"Yes," Larry said, his satisfaction evident. "I spoke to her this morning."

"Did she give you any trouble?"

"Surprisingly, no. I think she realized she was beat. She read through the waiver and the annulment papers, then signed them both. She did ask me to remind you what she'd said about her cousin, though."

"Ah, yes. Her cousin." Garek set Ellie's waiver aside and glanced at the next doc.u.ment-a statement against Robbie. Phrases like a.s.sault with a deadly weapon a.s.sault with a deadly weapon and and criminal confinement criminal confinement leaped out at him. leaped out at him.

He'd been too furious about the whole shotgun marriage and her threat to sell her story to the tabloids to think about Eleanor Hernandez very clearly. All he'd thought of this last week were ways to squash her gallery, her cousin and-most especially-her.

But now, something nagged at him, something that had been niggling at the back of his brain all week.

She'd been extremely upset when the reporter had taken a picture of Garek and her, insisting that he go after the man and get the film. She'd even refused to be interviewed when it could have helped her precious gallery. She'd claimed she wanted the attention focused on the artists and their work, but the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that she found the idea of appearing in a tabloid as distasteful as he did.

Garek frowned.

If she was trying to blackmail him, she wasn't doing a very good job of it. She should have threatened to go to the tabloids if he didn't give her money-not to save her cousin. If money was what she was after, she should have cashed that five-thousand-dollar check weeks ago, not squandered it on a ridiculous donation to the Art Inst.i.tute, a donation designed to...what? Embarra.s.s him? Make some point?

If she wanted to make any kind of claim on him at all, she should have refused to sign these papers. She should have let him make love to her that night, encouraged him to consummate their "marriage"...

It didn't make any sense. She She didn't make any sense- didn't make any sense- "Ahem."

Garek looked up to see Larry watching him. The lawyer pointed to the line at the bottom of the complaint. "You just need to sign there-"

Garek pushed the paper aside. "I've changed my mind. I'm not going to have Roberto Hernandez arrested. I want to leave him out of this."

Larry's mouth fell open. "But why?"

"I don't want to have it on public record that I was coerced into marriage at gunpoint."

Lines formed on the lawyer's forehead. "Since when have you cared what anyone thinks?"

Garek's eyebrows lifted. "You should be happy-you're always telling me I should worry about it."

Larry's frown deepened. "You can't let this man off. He's a menace, a danger to society-"

"You're afraid he'll go all over town forcing men to marry his cousin?" Garek asked sardonically. "Somehow, I'm not too concerned."

"I don't think it's wise," Larry said unhappily. "Without the legal complaint, it will be easier for Ms. Hernandez to claim that you weren't coerced."

"She's already signed away all claims."

"That doesn't mean she couldn't change her mind. If she gets herself a sharp lawyer, she could-"

"I'm willing to take that chance," Garek interrupted. "I've made my decision."

"Very well," Larry said, his voice as stiff as the hair covering his bald spot. "If you'll just sign the annulment papers, I'll go."

Garek glanced down at the last doc.u.ment, then set it aside also. "I have a meeting shortly. I'll do it later."

"All you have to do is sign it."

"I want to look it over," Garek said coldly. He turned his attention to some other papers. Without looking at his lawyer, he said, "That will be all, Larry."

When Garek heard the door close, he looked up. He stared at nothing in particular for several seconds. Then, slowly, he picked up the annulment papers again. He flipped to the back page where Ellie had signed the doc.u.ment.

He studied her signature for a long moment-the delicate pen strokes, the looping "E" in "Eleanor," the elegant "H" in "Hernandez."

An image flashed through his head of the morning he'd woken in Ellie's apartment. He'd immediately been aware that something was wrong-the pillowcase under his cheek was cheap cotton instead of silk, cold air stung the parts of his skin not covered by a heavy, fluffy comforter, and there was a heady scent nearby-one that made his body harden instantly. He'd opened his eyes slowly.

He'd seen dark tousled curls; long, black lashes lying heavily on delicately flushed cheeks; and red, soft lips, slightly parted, inviting him to lean over and kiss her...

He'd closed his eyes again and waited until she got up and left the room. Only then had he risen and dressed. But instead of leaving immediately, he'd looked around her room, noticing the antique iron bed frame and old-fashioned quilt that contrasted oddly with the abstract paintings hanging on the wall. On the whitewashed dresser was a small oval frame with a picture of two people. The man, blond with blue eyes, had a cheerful smile. The woman had dark hair and eyes and her face was solemn, a few lines giving her a more careworn expression than the man. The two of them hadn't been looking at each other, but there was an indefinable aura about them, something about the way the man's hand held the woman's arm so tenderly and the way the woman tilted her head toward the man, that had made Garek stare at the picture for a long, long time...

Garek set the annulment papers down on his desk. Closing the file, he picked up the phone and dialed.

Chapter Eleven.

She wouldn't talk to him.

Garek grew more and more annoyed as the day wore on and Ellie didn't answer the phone or return his calls. He went to the gallery, but Tom, the timid artist, told him in a quaking voice that she wasn't going to be in that day-or tomorrow, either. He went to her apartment, but either she wasn't home, or she refused to answer the door.

By the next day, he was at the end of his patience. He called and left a message on her answering machine.

"If you want to keep your job at Vogel's, you'd better present yourself at my office at 3:00 p.m. sharp this afternoon."

She called several times after that, but Garek told Mrs. Grist not to put the calls through.

That afternoon, at precisely three o'clock, she stalked into his office, quivering with indignation.

"What are you up to now?" Stopping by the leather chair in front of his desk, Ellie glared at Garek. "Are you going to try to talk Mr. Vogel into firing me? He won't listen to you. He'll believe me-"

"I won't be talking to Vogel anymore at all." Garek stood up slowly. He looked more controlled than usual, his tie straight, his hair neatly combed, his jacket lying smoothly across his shoulders. His expression was harder and more remote than ever. "I just purchased the gallery from him."

Ellie grew very still, staring into his eyes. Surrounded by short, black lashes, they were as gray as the sky outside, as cold as the water in Lake Michigan.

She swallowed, even that small movement difficult and painful. "I don't believe you," she whispered. "Mr. Vogel would have told me."

But even as she spoke the words, Ellie knew they weren't necessarily true. Al Vogel was growing increasingly frail and forgetful-and although she hadn't wanted to admit it to herself, she'd known he would have to sell the gallery soon.

"Ask him."

Ellie felt stunned. Garek might be lying-but she doubted it. What would be the point? The office had seemed warm when she first came in, but now she felt cold in spite of her thick, cableknit sweater. She pressed her forearm against her middle, against the queasiness in her stomach. The gallery-her gallery-purchased by Garek Wisnewski. She was at his mercy-as was everyone Vogel's supported. gallery-purchased by Garek Wisnewski. She was at his mercy-as was everyone Vogel's supported.

And didn't he know it. He stood there behind his enormous desk, surrounded by his fancy furniture, like a king waiting to hear a penitent's plea. He was waiting for her to apologize, she realized. Waiting for her to beg for mercy. Her nails dug into the thick yarn of her sweater. As if she would ever ever give him that satisfaction. give him that satisfaction.

"So," she said proudly, pressing her forearm more tightly against her roiling stomach. "Did you summon me here to fire me? Or to tell me you're closing the gallery? Or just to gloat?"

"All very attractive options, but first I want to ask you about something else. I understand you donated a certain sculpture to the Art Inst.i.tute. In my name."

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Although now, in retrospect...

But it was too late for caution, too late for regrets.

She lifted her chin. "Yes, I did did give Bertrice's sculpture to the museum. I told them there was only one condition-they had to display your name prominently. Everyone who goes to the museum will look at that c.o.c.kroach, then look at the name Garek Wisnewski. I'm sure that everyone who knows you will immediately understand the connection-" give Bertrice's sculpture to the museum. I told them there was only one condition-they had to display your name prominently. Everyone who goes to the museum will look at that c.o.c.kroach, then look at the name Garek Wisnewski. I'm sure that everyone who knows you will immediately understand the connection-"