The Millionaire Meets His Match
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“Con artists? Opportunists?” Cass bridled. “You have no right to lump me in with people like that. I work for a living. I pay my own way. I came here to ask for the smallest of favors—a little of Emilie Crosswhite’s time and an inconsequential delay in telling the kidnappers they goofed. I’m the only one who’s been taken advantage of.”
“Maybe.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that I’m reserving judgment until this scenario has played itself out. Completely.”
“I don’t expect you to be around for the finish. Once I have the ransom instructions, I’ll gladly disappear from your life. What happens after that is between me and the kidnappers. It won’t concern you or Mrs. Crosswhite.”
“I hope you’re right. I hope you don’t give me any reason to regret the impulse to let you in here today.”
“What are you talking about?” Cass demanded in exasperation.
Gabe stared at her for a long moment, making his face an unreadable mask. “Let’s pretend,” he said evenly, “that you weren’t strictly on the up-and-up. Let’s say that you wanted to win Emilie’s confidence, and her sympathy. You might come to her with a story exactly like the one you told today. You’re an innocent bystander, caught up in a bungled extortion attempt. Fortunately you have just enough money to meet the kidnappers’ demands.
“Then on the day the exchange is to take place, and at the very last minute, the crooks demand more money. You’re totally tapped out. You’ve mortgaged your soul to scrape together the ten thousand they originally wanted. Tears and hand-wringing. What are you to do? Oh, happy day! Mrs. Emilie Crosswhite, noted philanthropist with enough money to pay the ransom a thousand times over, steps in quickly to offer assistance. Whether you let her give you the money or force her to accept a promise of repayment, the result is the same. You and the money and the phantom kidnapped cat vanish forever.”
Cass jerked her wrist out of Gabe’s fingers. Angry color mottled her cheeks. “That’s a very convincing story, Mr. Preston,” she said tightly. “Except that my cat is not a phantom and I am not a thief. If you’re really worried about people taking advantage of Mrs. Crosswhite, I suggest you look in the mirror. You’re a little too familiar with the worst in human nature. You might ask yourself why.”
“My character is not in question,” he said softly.
“And mine is?” Cass challenged.
Gabe raised one shoulder and tilted his head to regard her speculatively. He didn’t answer.
Cass reached for her car door, brushing aside Gabe’s attempt to open it for her. With an unnecessary roar, she started the vehicle and backed down the road. Her last view of the Crosswhite estate showed the enigmatic figure of Gabe Preston framed between the pillars in the high iron fence.
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