Kay David - Obsession

“I had no idea you were coming in.”

“I didn’t, either,” he said. “But I’ve decided to open my account, and I want to do it now.”

“Great.” Emma tilted her head toward her inner office. “Come in and we’ll get started.”

She was dying to find out if Felicity had contacted Raul, but Emma didn’t stop to ask the secretary. She led Kelman into her office and sat down behind her desk.

Before Emma could even catch her breath, Kelman lifted a black leather briefcase and placed it directly in the center of her desk. Popping it open, then turning it around, he revealed the contents. It was packed with bundled currency-one-hundred-dollar bills-and the case was full.

Dumbfounded, Emma sat in her chair and said nothing. She was accustomed to large deposits, but not in cash, and immediately she wondered if the money was legitimate. Anyone who transported more than ten thousand dollars in or out of the U.S. had to file a report with the customs service. A 4790-a Currency Monetary Instrument Report. Unless Kelman had filed one, which somehow she doubted, he’d smuggled the money in.

Without saying a word, he reached down to the side of his chair and picked up a second case Emma hadn’t noticed before. This one held a jumble of paper. Each piece had a different design on it. Ornate with spidery lines and official-looking print, she recognized them immediately. They were stock certificates.

The number of shares, printed on the front of each certificate, ranged from one hundred to one thousand, and she knew the companies that had issued them. Anyone would. They were blue chip all the way. With fingers she had to consciously steady, she picked one up, flipping it over to read the back. It had been endorsed and was perfectly negotiable. She let it flutter back into the case.

Millions. Many millions.

The bonus she’d make from this deposit would be enough to cover an attorney and start proceedings against Todd. Her children’s voices rang in her head, the clear sweet sound so real she wanted to weep.

Emma raised her gaze to Kelman’s face and prayed she looked more composed than she felt. “Is this your deposit?”

“Yes, it is.” He met her look with an open expression. “And before you even ask, I can assure you this money is clean, Ms. Toussaint. There’s not a thing wrong with it. I’ve traveled back and forth to this country for many years, and I’ve brought some cash with me each time I’ve entered. I declared this every time I left the States, and you can check on that, if you like. The CMIRs are on record.”

Emma nodded slowly as he spoke. “Then I’m sure there’s no problem. Deposits of foreign currency are perfectly legitimate in Bolivia. We’ll apply it directly to the account, and it will be immediately accessible. My secretary will handle it and give you a receipt for the total.”

With a pounding heart, she reached for her phone to ring Felicity, but Kelman’s hand snaked out and stopped her. Her eyes shot to his. His touch was as cold as his stare.

“We have something to discuss first.”

He released her and her heart took an extra beat as she moved her hand away from the phone. It was hard to resist the urge to rub the spot on her wrist where his touch still lingered.

“I’m not sure exactly what I’ll be doing with these funds,” he said slowly. “I may not want to trade them right away.”

“That’s fine.” She spoke confidently, but inside a million questions assaulted her. William Kelman unsure of what he wanted to do? Men like him were never unsure, especially when it came to money. She didn’t know where the conversation was going, but calmly knitting her fingers together on the top of her desk, she said, “We can put it in an holding account where it can be available to trade-”

“I don’t want to deposit all of it that way.” His blue eyes glowed in the late-morning sun streaming through her windows. “At least not at first.”

His implication wasn’t entirely clear, but she moved to reassure him, assuming the worst. “Mr. Kelman, our accounts are very secure. Impenetrable, in fact. No one can-”

“Security’s not my concern.” He shook his head. “I have something else in mind.”

She sensed the trap a second too late and spoke without thinking. “And that would be?”

“It’s my understanding the government committee meets very soon-the committee that reviews the rate for the boliviano against the dollar. On the day the rate is announced, I want to be holding the appropriate currency-dollars or bolivianos. ” He stopped, his words suspended between them.

Emma looked across the desk at him, holding her breath, and remembered their earlier conversation, the one at Candelabra where she’d explained currency trading. If the Bolivian government devalued its currency, everything was suddenly worth less. Except dollars. You would want to own them and plenty of them. But if the government raised the value of the boliviano, the reverse would happen; the boliviano would be more valuable than the dollar. Either way, if you knew the direction in advance, you could make money. A lot of it.

But you had to know which way to trade.

Was he proposing she tell him in advance? His voice held no clue, no hint, of his intentions. It was calm and level, even friendly. It matched his expression, and she wondered if she was being paranoid.

“I don’t believe I understand,” she answered slowly. “The rate isn’t published in advance. No one knows what it will be.”

“Yes, that’s correct, but not technically accurate, now is it?” He smiled.

Her heart thumped wildly as she mentally completed what she thought he was saying: The bank knows the rate in advance. And you work for the bank.

“There’s a lot of profit there, waiting to be realized.” He was speaking in such a convivial manner now that the tightness inside her eased. Surely she was imagining things. Then he spoke again.

“And you know how it works…If I make money, you make money…”

Their eyes met again, and without warning, the week after her divorce flashed into Emma’s mind. She had stood in the middle of her rented apartment, a drink in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. At that very moment, she’d wanted nothing as much as she’d wanted to end the pain. It wouldn’t have been the right thing to do-she knew that now-but the feeling bombarding her at this very minute held the same kind of temptation.

All her problems could be solved in an instant. She’d have enough money to buy and sell Todd Toussaint to hell and back. Her kids could be hers once more. She could almost feel her arms around their bodies.

“What do you say?” Kelman patted the briefcases, sensing her hesitation. “Can we work a deal that would benefit us both?”

She wasn’t sure of her answer until she opened her mouth and spoke. “I don’t believe I can help you with something like that.”

He didn’t look surprised. He merely regarded her with his hooded blue gaze. After several seconds, he spoke. “I intend on doing a lot of trading with this money. I would think your bank-and your boss-might appreciate that fact. Perhaps you haven’t given this opportunity as much thought as it deserves.”

Did he emphasize the word opportunity, or was she the one giving it more significance? She couldn’t tell.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“I’m sure you are,” he answered. She watched his expression turn thoughtful. “I’ll tell you what, though. Why don’t you put the cases in the vault for me? Keep them for a while and think about my offer.” Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a business card and dropped it on her desk. “Here’s all the information from me that you need. You think about it a bit…then call me.”