“I don’t have grounds. I’ll be pushing for a forensic audit once Fabrizio breaks or we’re able to prove Jensen was behind the instructions to move funds, but he is definitely playing a rough PR game right now. This—” He chucked his chin back toward the house and Gwyn. “I see where you’re going and it would work if it was true, but I can’t go on record saying that you’ve been having an affair with her all along. We all may have to testify at some point.”
“Sì,” Vito agreed. “But you can state that unnamed sources—me—” he shrugged “—made you aware some time ago that there were worrisome transactions within the account. We put it on a watch list and saw no reason to remove Miss Ellis because she was not only conducting herself with sound ethics, but has since proven to be an excellent source of knowledge with regards to the foundation’s legitimate activities.”
“You’re convinced she has been conducting herself ethically?”
It was the judgment Vito had been avoiding making, aware that Gwyn was already a weakness to him. He wanted her and therefore he wanted to believe her, because how could he have an affair with a woman who was committing crimes against the bank? He couldn’t gamble his family’s future on his own selfish desires.
But at every stage, if she was the type to manipulate a man like Jensen, her actions would have been different, right up to this afternoon in the car. He would have been the one losing control to her hand or mouth, he was sure, if she was the type to lie and steal and wish him to believe otherwise.
At no time since he’d met her had Gwyn acted dishonorably, though. In fact, she was trying to protect the little family she had from the fallout of dishonor that, if she was innocent, wasn’t hers to bear.
The problem was, if she was blameless, he was going to have to kill the man who had done this to her.
“I believe she is Jensen’s victim, yes,” Vito said, and heard the cruel edge on his tone. “They gambled on her lack of experience and when she showed her intelligence, they threw her to the wolves.”
He understood the expression bloodthirsty as he said it. His tongue tingled and his throat tried a dry swallow, but he didn’t long for water. He craved the tang of suffering for Jensen and Fabrizio and whoever had helped them by taking those photos.
He felt the quick slash of Paolo’s glance before he returned his watchful gaze to his son, but his cousin obviously read his mood.
“So we imply you two have been having an affair all along and she’s been feeding us information. What happens when I’m asked point-blank if I condone my VP of operations sleeping with a customer service rep?” Paolo folded his arms, eyes on his son, but his tone added, Because I don’t.
“You never comment on the private lives of your family or your employees,” Vito said, which was true. “But as a rule, you expect to be notified of such relationships in a timely manner and you have no quarrel with when and how your VP of operations has advised you of this connection.”
Paolo shook his head, mouth pulled into a half smirk. “People call me competitive, but strategy plays are your drug of choice, aren’t they?”
“Live the lie and it becomes the truth,” he said blithely.
Paolo sobered. “The photos certainly look convincing,” he said with another pointed look, before returning his alert attention to his son in the water.
Vito had seen the photos online from today’s shopping trip with Gwyn and last night’s kiss. The passionate embrace on the stern of the yacht still made his pulse pound just thinking of it. His mind went to the car, the wet heat clenching his fingers as she shuddered and cried out with fulfillment.
There were a million reasons why he should merely act like they were an item, rather than make the affair real, but they would make it real. He knew it in the same way that adversaries knew a physical confrontation was coming. They could put it off, because they both knew in their gut that neither of them would come away unscathed, but their making love was inevitable.
“No comment?” Paolo prodded. “Because if she’s a victim, don’t make her more of one.”
That stung. Vito hid it, countering lightly, “What do you want me to say? I like women. I can’t help that they like me back.”
It was the laissez-faire attitude he always affected when discussing paramours. Paolo was the head of the family. He couldn’t escape marriage and the duty of producing progeny. Vito didn’t have the same pressure to procreate. He was at liberty to play the field the rest of his life if he wanted to.
Paolo sent him a dour look, the one that told him Vito could show the rest of the world, pretend his entire life was one long, lighthearted affair, but he knew better.