Amedeo, Her Italian Billionaire(16)
The receptionist spoke in a whisper, but Violet could tell she was the topic of conversation.
A few minutes later, Joseph Hill appeared in the lobby. “Miss Taylor?”
Violet closed her laptop, then stood. The man offered his hand, but she wasn’t shaking it. “You owe me money.”
He pointed to the door he’d just come through. “How about we talk in my office.”
“Fine.”
She followed him back to a messy room that she knew was his office. They’d met here months ago when she’d started the job.
“Have a seat.”
“I’d rather stand. Just cut me a check and I’ll be on my way.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Oh? Seems pretty simple to me. We had a contract.”
“Yeah, about that. I don’t have the money.”
“You have the money, Mr. Hill. I’ve seen your bank account. I know what goes on in this company. Give me what you owe me.”
“Or what?”
“I still have access to your system. There’s a back door and I can get into it. And cause a lot of damage.”
“I’ll know who it is.”
“It won’t be traced back to me, Mr. Hill. Now give me my money.”
“You aren’t getting it today and I suggest you get out of my building.”
“Or what?”
He leaned back in his chair. “Or I’ll call the cops.”
She wasn’t afraid of the cops. “Call them. I’m not leaving until I get my money.”
He picked up the phone and she didn’t blink. Instead, she crossed her arms.
“I’m calling the cops.”
She listened as he spoke on the phone. She didn’t care. She was in the right and she could prove it. He hung up. “You have about ten minutes to get out of here before they get here.”
“I’m not leaving. You’re a bastard who owes me money.” She chose to sit. It wouldn’t be easier to try to roust her out of the office if she sat. “Cut the damned check and I’ll be on my way.”
“No, Miss Taylor. I refuse to pay you. You’ll have to take me to court to get your money. That could take months and cost you more money in the end. Meanwhile, I’m earning interest on that money.”
He grinned and for a moment he looked like the Grinch. She didn’t care. She wasn’t afraid of him or going to jail. So she sat and waited for the cops.
***
Amedeo’s driver pulled in front of the police station and stopped. “I’ll park around back.”
“Thanks.”
The call had come in a half an hour ago. Violet sounded fairly calm, but he did detect a little worry in her voice. She’d been arrested. She was light on the details, but he’d get them out of her. He’d been her one phone call.
He’d called his lawyer who had gotten her out on bail. Amedeo was here to pay it and get her home. What had she done? He hadn’t talked to his lawyer yet.
Chet Andrews, in a more expensive suit than his, waited in the lobby for Amedeo.
“Chet, thanks for dropping everything.”
The men shook hands.
“No problem. They’ll be releasing her momentarily. She has a hearing next week that I can attend.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m guessing she’s important to you?” he said.
Amedeo nodded. “Yes, she is.” His lawyer didn’t need to know more. Not until a custody agreement was drawn up and now wasn’t the time for that.
His lawyer left. Amedeo located the desk clerk who told him to wait on one of the benches. Violet came out a few minutes later. She didn’t look worse for wear, but he had no idea about her mental state.
He’d never bailed anyone out of jail before. He could put it on his credit card. Well, this was the twenty-first century. Standing when he saw her, she stopped in front of him. “Thanks for coming.”
He brushed a hair out of her face. “I couldn’t leave you in jail.”
She nodded, her lips pressed together. “Well, you could have.”
He held out his hand. “When we get in the car, tell me what happened.”
Violet stared at the window as the driver took them home. Amedeo could have been dropped at his office, but he chose to go home with her. She might need him. She let out a breath then began talking.
“I was visiting a client. To get payment. He owes me several thousand dollars,” she said.
He wondered what recourse she had. As a small business owner she didn’t have a lot of resources and he’d bet that she didn’t even have a lawyer on retainer. She couldn’t afford that. He remembered the early days of his first business. Things had been tight.
“You’ve given him notices via certified mail?”