Locked.
Frustrated, she sighed and rested her forehead against the door. How the hell was she going to get upstairs if she couldn’t even get into his office?
Suddenly, the hallway lights came on.
Her heart in her throat, she twirled around, almost smacking into Cole. How had he snuck up on her?
His lips pressed together in a thin line. “What are you doing?”
He wore the same clothes as earlier, but something about him seemed different. When his eyes narrowed, she figured out what it was. “You’re wearing glasses.”
“Danielle, don’t make me repeat myself.”
She clutched her locket. “I couldn’t sleep, and I thought maybe you’d be in your office to answer some questions.”
His gaze dropped to her chest, and his nostrils flared, causing her to look down at herself. Realizing her black robe was sheer, she instinctively crossed her arms, even as a subtle throbbing began in her pussy. “You didn’t provide me any pajamas, and I forgot to pack them.”
He blinked and pulled his gaze up to her face. “If you’d like some, I’m sure Cassandra could—”
“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t need them.”
He slid his hand into his pocket and removed a black braided keychain with at least a dozen keys hanging from it. Then he unlocked the door and waved her in.
“That’s a lot of keys. What are they all for?” she asked as she stepped into his office, trying to sound casual.
He turned on the lights and closed the door behind them. “Danielle, it’s late, and we both need to be up in a few hours. Why don’t you just ask me what’s really on your mind?”
“My father,” she said before she could stop herself, the opportunity to learn more about the past too great to pass up. If she could get him to lower his defenses, maybe she could get him to reveal something that would help her prove her father’s innocence. “How did you become his business partner?”
He tilted his head toward the ceiling and sighed before gesturing for her to take a seat in front of his desk. Instead of taking his chair behind the desk, he sat beside her. “About ten years ago, I met your father through a friend of mine, a venture capitalist named Jaxon Deveroux, who you met earlier tonight. Your father was looking for investors in his wealth management firm. He wanted to compete with the Wall Street bigwigs, and to do that, he needed additional capital, but he didn’t have enough collateral to secure a loan from the banks, and the venture capitalists weren’t interested because they’d make too small of a return on the investment. Jaxon was willing to broker a deal and contacted me, knowing that in anticipation of the rebound of the stock market and to diversify my portfolio, I’d been looking to heavily invest in businesses that relied on the market. I became a majority partner, not only investing capital but also providing a loan to the company.”
“Wow. That must have been a lot of money.” She flashed a smile, blatantly admiring the tribal tattoo winding around his sinewy biceps in an attempt to appear flirtatious. “Impressive for someone who must have been only . . . what . . . thirty at the time?”
He smiled in response, but his eyes remained guarded. “I was twenty-eight. And yes, it was quite a bit of money. I was fortunate to have been born to a rich family. Before he fought in World War Two, my grandfather patented a couple of inventions for the automotive industry, and while he fought in Germany, his attorney sold the rights to those patents to a couple of the largest car manufacturers in the United States. He came back from the war a hero and a multimillionaire. With the right investments, that money will last my family for generations.”
“And you decided my father’s business was the right investment. As a majority owner, you must have had access to all the files and records of the business, right?”
He shifted in his chair. “I was a silent partner, so I had very limited involvement in the day-to-day running of it.”
Adrenaline shot through her body at the awareness that he’d sidestepped the question. He obviously didn’t want to talk about those records. “Not so silent. You came all the way from Michigan to meet with my father right before—”
“I did.” He paused. “You watched me from the stairs.”
Caught off guard, she froze. “You remember?”
“The first time, I felt your presence before I spotted you watching from the staircase. Your father had mentioned he had a young daughter, but the beauty I saw on the stairs was not the child I expected.”
She swallowed. “I was seventeen.”
“I looked forward to those moments I’d see you. Too much.” His gaze locked with hers. What did he mean by that? Had he experienced that same magnetic tug that she had whenever she’d seen him? “I was sorry to hear about your father’s passing.” Cole spoke softly, but the way the words sliced into her heart, he might as well have shouted.