Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance 1(54)

None of this was making sense to me. “But... but if you have proof that it's been Don doing the embezzling, then why don't you just show it to the FBI? That would make the problem go away.”

An expression of pure shock passed over his features. He was beautiful shocked. “I couldn't do that,” he said, and he sounded scandalized. “I told you. Don was like a brother to me. You don't just turn your brother over to the feds.”

“But... but he's the one turning you over!” I almost shouted.

He nodded as though he had no idea to what I was objecting. “But I couldn't do the same to my brother. We were very close. Very close, a long time ago...” He trailed off and a faraway look passed over his eyes, like a cloud over the moon.

The betrayal cut him deeply. Far more deeply than just a friend or a business rival screwing you over. This was personal. On Malcolm's side, at least.

My heart went out to him. “So that's it?” I asked, my voice softening. For want of something to do, I picked up my spoon and scooped up a spoonful of bisque and held it in front of me, letting it cool.“You were just going to let your best friend, the best friend you say is like a brother to you, steal money from your company and then frame you for it and send you off to federal prison?”

Malcolm shrugged. “No, I never have any intentions of going to prison,” he assured me. “That will not happen.”

I frowned, so confused at this point I didn't know which way was up and which way was down. “Then what did you plan to do instead? You know, before the FBI decided to arrest and charge you for a crime you didn't commit?”

Malcolm smiled at me, and it was a sad thing. “Oh, that was easy,” he said. “I'd planned to kill myself.”





Chapter Ten

I dropped my spoon. Bisque splattered everywhere, but I was far too shocked to care or even acknowledge it.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Could you please repeat that? I don't think I got it.”

“I planned to kill myself,” he said. He even helpfully enunciated the words, as though I were hard of hearing. I was anything but. His words boomed through me and echoed around inside my head.

Kill myself, kill myself, kill myself...

“Oh dear,” Malcolm said, looking at my outfit as though he were some shocked society maven. “You've spilled a bit of soup on your clothing.”

“What the fuck?” I said. “What the fuck?”

He blinked and took a demure sip of soup. “What do you mean?” he asked.

My fingers itched with the sudden urge to reach across the table and strangle him. “You fucking idiot,” I said. “Why would you want to kill yourself just because of some douchebag who betrayed you? Especially if you have the means to bury him?”

His eyes darkened. “I don't think I could do that,” he said. “It seems wrong. Dominic!” He turned in his seat and called for our server, who bolted immediately from the kitchen and over to our table. Malcolm spoke to him in French and Dominic's eyes darted over to me, taking in my soup-stained clothes. He clucked his tongue and hurried over to the bar where he retrieved a damp napkin before bustling back over to me where he began to solicitously dab at my clothes. Malcolm's eyes sparkled as he watched.

I was not amused. “Hey!” I said. “I'll do that!” I snatched the napkin from Dominic's hand and he made a huffy sound at me before saying something to Malcolm, who laughed, before disappearing again. “What the hell, man?” I demanded, gingerly cleaning bisque off myself. “I only let one guy invade Sadie's bubble right now. No fucking touchy.”

“I'm sorry,” Malcolm said. “I wanted to see what you would do.”

“Why?” I snapped. “So you could change the subject from your stupid plan?”

“Well, it was more that I wanted to see what Dominic had to say about you. He's seen many women come through here. He thinks you're a keeper, by the way.” He waved his hand. “And anyway, I don't think my plan is stupid. It was just a logical conclusion for me.”

The complete nonchalance with which he was treating this made me feel cold inside. “Yeah.” I glared at him. “That makes it worse.” I'd dealt with people who threatened suicide before. Malcolm wasn't anything like those people, which scared me, because the people who threaten to commit suicide and the people who actually do it are usually two very different types of people. He might actually mean it. In fact, I didn't have any reason to believe that he didn't mean it at all because he had been, so far, completely and candidly honest with me. If I asked the right questions, of course.

I had a horrible feeling that if Malcolm Ward had decided to kill himself, then he would do it without any sort of pomp and circumstance. No dramatic death threats, no leaping from a bridge into rush hour traffic, no televised gun to the head. He'd just... do it.