Chapter 3 - WHAT WILLA KNEW ALL ALONG
At midnight, Damian found her on the back terrace.
Lake Michigan was black beneath the October sky. Wind moved through the bare branches, bringing the first bite of winter.
Willa had wrapped herself in a wool coat but still felt cold.
Damian stopped several feet away.
“I wanted to apologize before I left.”
She laughed without humor.
“You didn’t sleep with my husband.”
“No.”
“You didn’t bring her here.”
“No.”
“Then what exactly are you apologizing for?”
His jaw tightened.
“I knew about the affair.”
Willa turned.
The hurt returned so suddenly it almost knocked the breath from her.
“How long?”
“Five months.”
She stared at him.
“You knew for five months?”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I was investigating her.”
“That explains Sloane.”
She stepped toward him.
“It doesn’t explain me.”
Damian accepted the accusation without defending himself.
Willa’s voice broke.
“I sat across from you at family dinners.”
“I know.”
“You watched me make excuses for him.”
“I know.”
“You watched me wondering what was wrong with me.”
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But she saw the regret.
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I hoped Grant would.”
“That is a terrible answer.”
“Yes.”
The honesty stopped her.
Damian looked across the lake.
“I spent most of my life cleaning up after men who refused to face the consequences of their choices. My father. My cousins. Grant.”
He rubbed one hand across his jaw.
“I decided my brother had to be given one final opportunity to tell you himself.”
“And while you were teaching him a lesson, I was being lied to.”
“Yes.”
Willa looked away.
He didn’t soften it.
Didn’t make excuses.
That mattered.
Not enough.
But it mattered.
“You hurt me too,” she said.
“I did.”
“You don’t get forgiven just because you stood up at dinner.”
“I know.”
The wind moved between them.
After a moment, Willa said, “The restaurant group is losing money.”
Damian turned.
She almost smiled.
“What?”
“Grant’s division.”
She folded her arms against the cold.
“About eighty thousand a month, maybe more.”
Damian stared at her.
“How do you know that?”
“He hates paperwork.”
“That I know.”
“He started bringing financial reports home during our second year of marriage. Said I was good at organizing.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed.
“I found duplicated invoices in March. A linen supplier called Great North Textile. Same billing address as a closed dental office in Newark.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Willa laughed bitterly.
“To whom? My husband, who told me I worried too much? You, who barely spoke to me?”
Damian absorbed that.
“I kept records.”
“What records?”
“Everything.”
She looked at him.
“There are three shell vendors. Maybe four. I couldn’t verify one of them.”
For the first time that evening, Damian Bell looked genuinely surprised.
“You found three?”
“In my kitchen.”
He stared.
“With a calculator?”
“With a calculator, a laptop, and insomnia.”
Something remarkable happened.
Damian smiled.
Not the cold half-smile he gave people across negotiation tables.
A real one.
It transformed him.
Willa immediately wished it hadn’t.
Because suddenly she understood why women looked twice when he entered restaurants.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
His smile disappeared, but warmth remained in his eyes.
“I think my brother may be an even bigger idiot than I believed.”
She shivered.
Damian noticed.
“We should go inside.”
“What happens to me now?”
He stopped.
The question embarrassed her the second she asked it.
So she clarified.
“I gave up my career for Grant. The museum replaced me years ago. Most of my friends disappeared because I stopped returning calls. I haven’t earned my own paycheck since I was twenty-five.”
Damian listened.
She hated how vulnerable she sounded.
“I know the house. I know how to host dinners. I know which fork belongs where.”
Her throat tightened.
“Maybe Sloane was cruel, but she wasn’t entirely wrong.”
Damian’s expression hardened.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Finish that sentence.”
She stared at him.
“You want to know why?”
He stepped closer, still leaving a respectful distance.
“I’ve watched you for seven years.”
Willa almost laughed.
“That sounds ominous.”
“It probably is when I say it.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“You managed every charity dinner this family held. You negotiated with caterers who tried to overcharge my mother. You caught a contractor billing us twice for the west terrace. You remember the names of every employee’s spouse and half their children. You once reorganized a two-hundred-person fundraiser in six hours after the venue flooded.”
Willa blinked.
“You noticed that?”
“I notice most things.”
Clearly.
He continued.
“You have a graduate degree in art conservation. You understand budgets better than the man I put in charge of fourteen restaurants. Tonight you identified fraud my accounting team missed.”
His voice lowered.
“Worthless is not even in the same universe as what you are.”
Willa felt tears pressing behind her eyes again.
She refused them.
“So what do I do?”
Damian considered her.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you want safety or a fight.”
Her pulse quickened.
“Explain.”
“I can have lawyers handle your divorce. The settlement will be more than enough. The house can be yours. You can go anywhere.”
“And the fight?”
His eyes sharpened.
“You come to work Monday.”
Willa laughed.
Then realized he wasn’t joking.
“For you?”
“For yourself.”
“I haven’t had a job in seven years.”
“Good.”
“How is that good?”
“You have fewer bad habits to unlearn.”
She stared at him.
“What job?”
“Interim operations review for Bell Hospitality.”
Her mouth fell open.
“Grant’s job?”
“No.”
His answer came instantly.
“Grant didn’t have the discipline for the job I’m describing.”
Damian folded his arms.
“You found fraud from your kitchen. Come find the rest from an office.”
Willa’s heart pounded.
Fear.
Excitement.
Something she hadn’t felt in so long she almost didn’t recognize it.
Possibility.
“Why would you trust me?”
Damian’s face became unreadable.
“Because you were loyal to this family long after it stopped earning your loyalty.”
May you like
He stepped back.
“And because I want to see what happens when you stop asking permission.”
