His pride

His pride
A slender, dark-haired woman wearing a simple, stylish black dress came toward him from the kitchen, a questioning expression on her face.
“We’re not open for another half hour,” she said with a warm smile.
“I know. You must be the famous Deidre that Hanna has told me so much about.”
Her expression faltered. “And you are?” “Rafe O’Donnell.”
“Ah,” she said slowly. “The attorney for the investors.”
Rafe tried not to let it matter that she’d heard of him only in his professional role, not as Hanna’s lover. Maybe that was for the best, since he was here to get answers.
“Some of them,” he admitted. “If you have a minute, could we talk?” She shook her head. “Without a subpoena, I have nothing to say to you.”
“It won’t take long,” he promised, though he could see from her expression that time wasn’t the issue. He was pretty sure he knew what was. He added, “It could help Hanna.”
That seemed to surprise her. “You want to help her?” “Yes,” he said with total sincerity.
She studied him intently, then nodded and led the way to a table. She gestured for him to sit.
“Would you like some coffee? A cappuccino?” “Nothing, thanks.”
She sat opposite him. “What do you want to know?” “How well did you know Bobby Rinaldi?”
“Not intimately, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” she said with a touch of indignation.
“I’m not suggesting anything improper,” he soothed. “I’m just trying to get a picture of the guy. Why would he run off with all that money?”
“A woman,” she said at once.
“But he’s in the Cayman Islands all alone,” Rafe said. Her eyes widened. “You know where he is?”
“Yes.”
“Does Hanna know?”

He nodded. “Was Bobby a gambler?” “No way,” she said.
“A big spender?”
“Yes, but he had the money. His take out of here was pretty substantial.”
Rafe was relatively certain that Hanna had been taking very little out of the business. Why had Bobby gotten so much more? And why hadn’t that shown up on the books he’d picked up from Deidre a couple of months back?
“More than Hanna’s salary?” he asked.
“I think so. I could look at the books. I’ve been paying bills while Hanna’s away.”
It occurred to Rafe then that the books he’d been given had been for the restaurant’s early years, not the current one. Perhaps quite a lot had changed in the months immediately before Bobby had disappeared.
“Let me take a look with you,” he said, concluding there was no point in criticizing Deidre for not giving him the current financial records along with the others, even though the subpoena had been for everything.
He followed her into the office. She removed the latest record book from a file cabinet and opened it to the first of the year. Sure enough, Bobby’s draw from the company was dramatically more than Hanna’s and higher than what he’d been taking out in past years. Had Hanna known about that? Was it part of some deal they’d made? Maybe he was supposed to be paying the investors with the additional funds, though that would certainly be an unorthodox way of conducting business.
“Who wrote those checks? Hanna or Bobby?” he asked Deidre.
“Until this mess, Bobby handled all of the financial details,” she revealed. “I don’t think Hanna ever touched the checkbook, though she could sign checks if she needed to.”
That must have been what Bobby had counted on, that she wouldn’t even see the size of the checks he’d written to himself. He’d taken four careful years to establish a routine, then taken advantage of Hanna after she’d been lulled into a false sense of complacency. Rafe’s impression of the man, never very high, sank even lower.
“Thanks, Deidre,” Rafe said when he’d jotted down a few notes. “One last thing. What was Bobby’s relationship with Hanna like?”
“He adored her,” she said without hesitation. “In fact, I think he might have been half in love with her, though she wouldn’t give him the time of day, not that way. He paraded women through here, but I always thought he did it because he was trying to get Hanna to pay attention, not because he cared about any of them.”
Deidre’s assessment echoed in Rafe’s head throughout the day and for the

rest of the week. He did it because he was trying to get Hanna to pay attention. Pay attention. Pay attention.
Dear God, was that what this had been about? Was this entire mess an attempt on Bobby Rinaldi’s part to get Hanna to look at him? It was a screwy idea, but once it occurred to Rafe, he couldn’t seem to shake it. Goodness knows, he knew the power of her appeal. Why wouldn’t Rinaldi, who was reputedly an expert on women? To a charming scoundrel used to getting any female he wanted, the one who proved immune was bound to be the most alluring.
There was only one way to find out if he’d hit on the answer, Rafe concluded. He needed to talk to Rinaldi face-to-face, to confront him with what he suspected and see how he reacted.
He called Charlie Flynn. “I’m coming down there. Make sure Rinaldi sits tight. I can’t get away this week and possibly not next week. I’m due in court on a couple of cases, and I can’t ask for postponements.”
“He won’t go anywhere,” Flynn promised.
“Thanks.” He hung up slowly. What if he was right? Did Hanna suspect that Bobby might be in love with her? How would she feel if she knew? Was that the reason she was so hesitant to commit to Rafe, because she returned Bobby’s unspoken feelings? Rafe really, really hated that idea, but he couldn’t ignore it.
And until he knew a whole lot more than he knew right now, maybe it was best if he kept not only some physical distance between himself and Hanna, but some emotional distance, as well. Losing her now wouldn’t hurt any less than losing her later, but it might be just a little easier on his pride.