Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35111 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35111 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
It was only when she got to the lobby that she realized she didn’t have any money. She had left her bag in Mykolas’ office. She wouldn’t even be able to withdraw from the bank, not when there was nothing to withdraw since she had stupidly – oh God, how stupid she had been all this time! – used all her money this morning to buy a fucking gift for Mykolas. It had been her proof to herself that she was not weak – that she was strong enough to love and trust.
Yeah, well, stupid her.
Dotty was weak. Dotty was weak. Dotty was weak.
Another thought occurred to her, one that almost sent Velvet to her knees.
Oh God, she even didn’t have panties on.
All she had were memories and...
Velvet forced herself to turn around and face the gaping security guard, who had been trying all this time not to make it obvious that he had been staring at her. Tugging the rings off her fingers, she gave it to him and said, “It’s your lucky day.”
And then she started to walk to the airport.
Chapter Eleven
“Are these all her financial records?” Mykolas asked the next day, his face cold and unreadable as he took the documents from the head of his security team.
“They are everything, even the ones that should not have been publicly accessible.”
When the other man left, Mykolas remained motionless behind his office desk for a while. Even now, he loathed himself for being so gullible. Even now, he questioned his motives for wasting his time tracing Velvet Lambert’s every move. What did he hope to find with these papers? A reason or an excuse he could cling to so that he would be able to take her back without hating himself for being a lovesick fool?
In the end, the reasons didn’t matter. He simply had to know. He had to know.
And when he started reading, he found that none of the figures matched with what he had expected.
Velvet had two bank accounts.
The first one had been opened the year she had arrived in Greece. It had an impressive initial deposit, but the cynical part of him wondered whether it was the result of another successful conquest brought about by Velvet’s irresistible beauty. What followed were regular deposits and very minimal withdrawals except for the occasional checks she sent to Wayne Garfield.
The last two transactions were completed online in the morning of their wedding day. The first was another check of $100,000 transferred to her lawyer Lester Wilkins. The remainder, a sum amounting to a little over $2,000, was withdrawn as cash.
Her second account was even more perplexing. She had opened it a week ago. And when he read the details of the one and only transaction for the account, Mykolas realized that it was the $100,000 check he had given to her.
It remained untouched, even today.
Mykolas moved on to the next group of documents, and that was when the alarm bells started to ring. They were application forms for a non-profit foundation intended to benefit victims of crimes related to drug abuse. The initial capital was $100,000.
Was the non-profit to be a front? Would she use it to ask for more money from him for her lover?
The thought had his fist clenching, and he had the strongest urge to flip his table and destroy every piece of evidence that suggested Velvet Lambert had been untrue to him.
Why? Why, damn you, why?
She had sobbed and screamed the question at him. He wanted to roar the same question at her. The pain of her betrayal was so great it nearly crippled him. Same fucking question, but at least he meant his. With her, he knew it was all a fucking act. She did not care about him. All she had ever cared about was his money, and God, how skillfully she had played him. She would probably be laughing her way to the bank when she found out that on the same morning she had sent Wayne Greenfield a hundred grand, he, Mykolas Sallis, had torn their prenup contract.
The memory of his stupidity was like acid, and a second later he did end up destroying his desk. Punched the wall. Smashed glass into pieces with his bare hands. He destroyed everything in sight, but the pain remained because he could not destroy the memories he had of Velvet.
Why? Why, damn you, why?
****
It was almost ten in the evening when he arrived at his home. His manservant received him stony-faced, and Mykolas was tempted to fire the damn man on the spot. In all the years Dodds had been working for Mykolas, he had rarely spoken or given his opinion. The old man had even preferred to work around the apartment only when Mykolas was not there to “disturb” him when he was cleaning. But somehow, Velvet had managed to fool the old man, too. It was obvious in the way Dodds looked at him that the crusty old man blamed him for Velvet’s absence.