Sweet Promise Read online

  Vivienne grinned. “I wish I could listen in on that conversation.”

  Jacob laughed. “It’s going to be a good one. I guarantee it.”

  Chapter 8

  The next morning, Jacob went for his jog, feeling more positive about the future than he had in a while. He covered his usual route in good time, and returned to shower. Dressed in an expensive suit and silk tie, he went to the kitchen to find Vivienne. “You look very dashing and sophisticated,” she said.

  “I’m off to my attorney’s office, so I might as well look the part,” Jacob said, then kissed her goodbye.

  Vivienne pulled him down for another kiss. “Call me as soon as it’s over.”

  Jacob’s birthday wish came to mind. He wasn’t the frivolous sort, nor did he cling to superstition. But when he’d blown out the candles that day, he’d wished for a way out…what he wanted more than anything. He’d wished that he’d find his way through the darkness, so he could be with Vivienne.

  *****

  Jacob was the first to arrive at his attorney’s office. The receptionist greeted him cordially, then escorted him to the conference room. His attorney, Vaughn Sanger, came in for some last-minute coordination.

  “Are we ready to go?” Jacob said.

  “Yes, I arranged it all,” Vaughn said. He stayed for a few minutes and went over the plan one last time. Then he patted Jacob on the back. “I’ll be in my office. Just buzz if you need me to come in.”

  “I will,” Jacob said.

  When Vaughn left, the room seemed unusually quiet. It was soundproofed, and the double-paned windows restricted noise from the city below. Jacob went to the window to look out. This was the day that he’d waited for; now it was here.

  Jacob would soon have his enemies in one room, facing him. No more secrets or clandestine operations. All would be revealed, and the situation would take on a new blush. He was surprisingly calm, considering the magnitude of what he intended to do.

  It wasn’t long before the door opened. The receptionist ushered the two men inside, and offered coffee, but they declined. She gave Jacob a smile and a nod, then closed the door behind her. He looked at his enemies, giving them a final assessment.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. Please take a seat.”

  Carl Hahn wore a navy-blue tie and white shirt, with a suit that didn’t quite fit him. It hung in the wrong places and the shoulders were too big. Jacob guessed it had been loaned to him, as he hadn’t seen him wear business attire before.

  Carl had taken time to groom his hair for this moment of glory, and looked better than the other time Jacob had seen him. But his blue eyes looked flat, and his posture sagged. It appeared that he hadn’t had that first drink of the day; there was no alcohol to give him the appearance of life.

  When Carl took a seat at the far end of the oval table, Daniel Kenyon pulled out a chair some distance from him. There was no love between them, despite their mutual purpose. Jacob inwardly mocked Kenyon for his audacity, yet kept his demeanor calm and controlled.

  Kenyon wore a designer suit, a metallic gray material with a snobbish sheen to it. He wore a red tie that was ostentatious and meant to be a symbol of power. It was laughable, really, and Jacob enjoyed watching him in his final hurrah.

  The man’s dark hair was short-cropped, but stylish. His beard was precisely trimmed and his nails manicured. He was a man who considered himself important, even if no one else did. His narrowly set eyes held a look of contempt, and his stiff body language showed his disdain.

  The two men were an unlikely pair, one a street bum, and the other a pampered stepson of a well-respected importer. Yet each possessed unbelievable conceit, unrelated to their status in life. It was as if they’d been born with a superior attitude that failure hadn’t altered, nor did logic or reason affect it.

  Convinced that they were better, that any other person didn’t merit their care or concern, each man had lived life with solely his interests in mind. Jacob cringed to think of the harm that had been done as a result of their utter disregard for others. Neither man had any sense of friendship or loyalty, or any respect for family.

  Kenyon leaned back in the chair and clasped his hands together. The smug look on his face was irritating. “You’re a smart man, Jacob. I knew you’d come around. I’d like to get this over with quickly, if we can.”

  Jacob sat at the opposite end of the table and stared at the other two men. “I’m all for that.”

  Carl shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable in the conference room atmosphere, and out of his league. But the hatred in his eyes didn’t waver. He poured a glass of water and left it sitting on the table in front of him, probably wishing it was vodka.

  Kenyon leaned forward on his elbows.

  Jacob sat up, his shoulders straight. “Do you have something you want to say?”

  “You know what we want,” Kenyon said. “I expect your resignation from Rinaldi to be submitted today, and I’d like a copy of it. It would be best if you moved out of the country.” He paused, seeming to gloat, or maybe he just liked the sound of his own voice.

  “And I suggest that you take Vivienne Lake with you,” Carl said in a raspy voice. “You seem overly attached to her, and I’m sure you don’t want any harm to come to her.”

  Hearing Vivienne’s name mentioned in a derogatory way sent a shot of adrenaline through Jacob’s veins. Just for a second, he nearly lost his cool. Carl was the last man that should speak of attachment, being a man who had no clue about it.

  Jacob spoke sharply, his voice booming out in the small room. “You won’t mention her name again.” He glared at Carl. “Harming is your specialty. But you won’t have the opportunity…not anymore.”

  “You’re making the right decision,” Kenyon said, diverting the attention back to him. “I would hate to see your family endure the onslaught of bad press.” His sympathetic words were inconsistent with his vile tone.

  Jacob allowed them to gloat a little longer, rather enjoying watching them make fools of themselves. They acted like they’d won, and it was satisfying to know that their false confidence was about to be shattered. When Kenyon seemed to grow impatient, Jacob had had enough.

  “You are right. I have made the right decision.” Jacob stood up. “Only I won’t be resigning from Rinaldi.”

  The look on Kenyon’s face changed; he appeared puzzled. Carl didn’t react at first, a bit out of it, as if his senses were dulled.

  “I figured it out, Kenyon. I know how you gained information.” Jacob shook his head. “Tsk, tsk, buying off my accountant. Whatever you paid him, it wasn’t enough. He won’t work again, not in this city.”

  Kenyon acted insulted. “It doesn’t matter. You’re still screwed.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Jacob said. He paced a few steps. “Actually, you should be more concerned about your welfare.”

  “I have no idea what you mean,” Kenyon said.

  “Oh, don’t you?” Jacob stood quietly for a moment, letting the man squirm. “For a while, I couldn’t understand why it was so important to you to get me out of the way.”

  Kenyon’s eyes widened, but he remained silent.

  “Over the years, I’ve spoken out against you…when you’ve suggested programs that weren’t in everyone’s best interests,” Jacob said. “And I’m sure you had no doubt that I would find out how you amassed all the money you have.”

  “Do you have a point here, Jacob?” The barb had no bite to it. Kenyon’s haughtiness began to crumble.

  “You know where I’m going with this, don’t you?” Jacob stared at Kenyon.

  Carl spoke up. “I don’t. I thought we were here to settle this matter. What the hell are you doing, Jacob?”

  “Shut up, Carl. I have the floor. And I’m not done,” Jacob said. He returned his focus to Kenyon, who seemed to shrink in the chair.

  “You’re a greedy asshole, Kenyon, and you’ve been stealing from your stepfather.” The statement was like a slap in the face. Jacob
watched the man falter.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Jacob chuckled. “Nice try, but weak. You’ve been embezzling from Williamson Imports, using various entities to hide the transactions. And you’ve been stashing the money offshore.”

  “You’re crazy!”

  “And in your demented mind, you assumed if I vanished that you’d get away with it. Only that’s not going to happen. I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Jacob crossed his arms.

  “And your scheme backfired. By launching your attack against me, all you succeeded in doing was getting my attention. It made me highly motivated to discover the impetus for your actions.”

  Kenyon was speechless.

  “You sought to label me as a killer, and thus disarm me.” Jacob took a couple of steps closer. “It was a desperate solution from a desperate man.”

  “Jacob…please…we can discuss this.”

  Carl watched as if trying to follow what was going on.

  “I’ve turned the evidence over to the authorities,” Jacob said. “You’ve embezzled millions, which is a felony. That means you’re facing up to twenty-five years in prison.”

  Jacob watched Kenyon fade before his eyes. “And you compounded the direness of your fate by committing illegal acts repeatedly. From what my attorney tells me, what might have been only one count of grand larceny may turn out to be multiple crimes.

  “Your scams involved government agencies and tax evasion,” Jacob said. “So the Feds are keen on prosecuting.”

  Kenyon looked down at the table. “I want to contact an attorney.”

  “If you can afford one,” Jacob said. “The only funds you have are stolen, and your stepfather assures me that he has no intention of paying for your defense.” He took a breath. “Your fate may be in the hands of the public defender.”

  The intercom buzzed, and the receptionist’s voice filled the room. “There are two federal officers here to see Daniel Kenyon.”

  “He’s on his way out,” Jacob said.

  Kenyon stood up and straightened his jacket. He looked at Jacob with a defeated expression, then walked slowly toward the exit. He didn’t say another word. When he disappeared and the door clicked shut behind him, Jacob turned his attention to Carl.

  Under his ill-fitted suit, Carl still appeared physically strong, a reminder of his brutality. “What the hell just happened?”

  Jacob sat down. Two chairs separated them, but he was close enough to smell the man’s cheap cologne. He looked at Carl, who glared back at him, then snarled, “Do you wish you’d succeeded when you tried to kill me?”

  “I used to lie in bed at night,” Jacob said, “and pray for your death.”

  Carl just sat there, like the soulless bastard he was.

  “You should have had the sense to fear me, Carl.” After a beat, Jacob continued, “Certainly, I’ve given you enough reason to.” He paused. “Now you’re about to learn too late not to mess with me.”

  “Is that any way to speak to your father?”

  “You don’t know what the word father means,” Jacob said. “You were responsible for Flora’s death. You killed her, and always tried to blame me.”

  Jacob leaned forward. “I can’t bring my mother back,” he said. “But all these years it’s tortured me with guilt, the knowledge that I didn’t do anything to make you pay…that you got away with it.”

  Carl smirked. “That was a long time ago. It’s over.”

  “Your biggest mistake, Carl, is that you continued to abuse women. It’s been a lifelong pattern.”

  “And who’s going to stop me?”

  Jacob pounded his fist on the table. “I am, Carl.” Suddenly, the man seemed to have no more to say.

  “I know the names of many of the women you’ve hurt,” Jacob said. “There were complaints filed. That’s how Kenyon found you, wasn’t it?”

  Carl blinked.

  “Sarah Miller, a victim of one of your more recent brutalities, filed a complaint. I’ve spoken to her, and she knew the dive where you’d been staying. Kenyon ran a background check on you, discovered the complaint, and went to see her. She told Kenyon where to find you, didn’t she?”

  “So what?”

  “You’re such a piece of work, Carl. You pick on helpless women. I know the pattern. You manage to charm them, get things started, then the narcissistic cycle begins. In a drunken rage, you abuse them, even kill them.”

  “It’s their own damn fault,” Carl said. “They don’t listen…just like you.”

  “So far there have been no convictions on your record, and do you know why that is?”

  Carl snarled, “No, tell me, smart-ass.”

  “Because the women were afraid to fight you, feared for their lives, or they just plain didn’t have the money to pay for a defense.”

  “That’s just too bad,” Carl said. “It’s my life. I think this discussion is over. You messed up my only chance at having anything, just like you always do. With Daniel gone, there’s nothing for me here.”

  Carl started to stand up, but Jacob leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder. “The only place you’re going is jail.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  Jacob didn’t falter. “Under New York law, a conviction for a felony assault carries a five- to twenty-five-year prison sentence.”

  Jacob proceeded to recite the definition he’d memorized. “A felony assault occurs when the perpetrator willfully, or with intent to cause serious bodily injury or death, strikes another person, or places that person in fear of imminent bodily injury or death.”

  “You have no evidence.”

  “But each of the women you abused does have evidence,” Jacob said. “Each one has a case against you. We can start with Sarah, who you almost strangled to death with a cord. Then there is the woman you struck in the head with an iron in the throes of a drunken rage. Or let’s take the woman you threw out the window from a second-story apartment, who can’t walk anymore.”

  Carl was seething.

  “Shall I go on?” Jacob got right in his face. “And now, each of those women is no longer alone, defenseless against you. A civil case would be useless, since you have no money to compensate them. But assault is a criminal matter, and the cases have been brought to the court’s attention.”

  Carl stood up to leave. “I should have killed you when you were a boy.” He spun and headed for the door, but it opened before he could get there.

  A uniformed officer stepped forward. “Carl Hahn…you are under arrest for the felony assault of Sarah Miller.” And he proceeded to read his rights and make the arrest.

  Carl was shuffled out of the room in handcuffs, and when the door snapped shut, Jacob expelled a breath. As a child, he’d had no way to fight back against the abuser who had taken his mother. Jacob had finally stopped the evil and made sure that the monster couldn’t hurt any other women. It was a soul-cleansing feeling.

  Chapter 9

  It was finally over. Jacob had broken through the darkness and defeated the evil that had stolen his heart at a vulnerable age. When he told Vivienne about it, he said, “I’ll never forget Flora…but now she can rest in peace.”

  Not long after, Jacob took Vivienne back to France. She had some business in Paris with Alfred, but their stay was mostly for pleasure. The first couple of days, she attended to meetings with perfume suppliers, and coordinated details with her business partner.

  She’d told Alfred about the recent events, and he was happy for her. “I had a feeling that Jacob was the man for you.”

  Vivienne smiled. “You were so right,” she said. “And what about you? Am I going to meet the woman of your dreams?”

  Alfred beamed. “We will have to get together while you’re still in France. I know you’ll adore Margot, just as I do.”

  It was wonderful to see Alfred in love. He was a good person, and deserved happiness.

  “Paris has been rewarding in many ways. Most of all because I’ve
fallen for a Frenchwoman,” Alfred said.

  “So you’ll be staying in Paris for a while?”

  “For several weeks,” Alfred said. “Then we’ll see.”

  Vivienne gave him a hug and wished him well. “I’ll look forward to hearing everything when you return to New York. And let’s have dinner soon. I really want to meet Margot.”

  *****

  The weather in Paris had improved since their last visit. After months of cold, dark days, the warming temperatures offered a gentle thaw to the city. Jacob and Vivienne explored some of the beautiful parks and gardens, soaking up any available sun or warmth on a café terrace.

  They spent time strolling around a couple of the city’s charming neighborhoods. There was even a parade at Place du Chatelet, and they joined the spectators to watch the vibrant procession. Vivienne was still passionate about the theater, and Jacob managed to get front-row seats to a show.

  Arm in arm, they toured Paris, the city brimming with life. One morning they admired Monet’s artwork at the Musée d’Orsay, and in the afternoon they climbed Montmartre to enjoy a picnic on a small green patch of lawn opposite the vineyards. But few things were as romantic as the restaurants with their authentic French cuisine and cozy atmospheres. On more than one evening, Jacob shared a second bottle of wine with Vivienne, and they talked endlessly.

  One such place was Chez L’Ami Jean, a restaurant bursting with patrons talking animatedly, gesturing and laughing. It was a little like a play, with servers delivering bowls of delectable items to the tables, buzzing with conversation. The chef stood at the edge of the kitchen clapping sternly at the waiters, who weren’t ferrying the food quickly enough.

  Jacob and Vivienne arrived and their reservation was scratched off a thick book before they were led to their table. They sat back with a glass of house red, while the kitchen prepared their meals. Vivienne’s veal with mushrooms and scallions was spectacular, as was Jacob’s slow-cooked beef with carrots. Dessert was riz au lait, a French rice pudding, topped with luscious caramel and nuts. It was heavenly.