Champagne Brunch: The Stiletto Sisters Series by Ainsley Claire (easy readers .txt) 📗

his mouth curls. He holds his hands up. “We’re all on the same side on this,” he gently reminds her.

She narrows her eyes. Not much gets past her.

He looks at his watch. “Let’s meet in forty-five minutes in the main conference room.”

“Fine. We’ll expect our escort no sooner than forty-four minutes from now.”

Walker smirks. “See you then, sweetheart.”

Marci rolls her eyes. “Sometimes the man can’t help but piss me off. I swear he likes it.”

I have a feeling they both like it.

Jim joins me in the room, but Peter and Jennifer remain outside to make sure no one interrupts us.

Marci points me to a seat. Jim pops what looks like a garage door opener on the table and smiles at me.

“We’re free to talk,” Marci says. “What did Walker say to you?”

“Just that the case will be moved to Portland and to expect that I’ll be an early witness.”

“Nothing else?” she presses.

I look at Jim, and he shakes his head.

“No, nothing else. Do you know why all the press is outside?”

“Slow news day.” Marci sighs. “This is going to get crazy for a while.”

“I understand.” I look out through the metal blinds toward the gray buildings of downtown. “Cecelia was pretty amazing, and people want to know who her friends were and who knew her killer. It’s all gossip.”

“Exactly.” Marci smiles.

We spend the next forty minutes reviewing what we went through yesterday, and then there’s a knock at the door.

Peter sticks his head in. “Mr. Clifton is here to walk you down to the deposition.”

Marci rolls her eyes. If this didn’t seem like such a precarious event, I might find the way Walker is poking at her entertaining, but given that she’s my attorney and his office has requested this interview, I’m nervous.

Walker walks next to me as he leads me to our meeting room. “We’re going to Jackson’s wedding at the end of next week. Do you need a ride?”

I shrug. “I might. It depends on how my new app is doing.”

“How’s that going?”

“Don’t answer that,” Marci interrupts.

They both were at the launch, and I would think my friend Walker would be the one asking. But I know Marci wants to remind me this is a formal conversation.

“Let us know if you want a ride,” Walker continues. “I hear your new boyfriend has the line on Jeremy Hamilton.”

“Not much gets by you, does it?” I say, dripping in sarcasm.

Walker opens the door, and I’m faced with eight attorneys. My heart races, and I try to not show any emotion.

“This is Abram Frieman, the US Attorney for Oregon,” Walker says.

I reach my hand out and nod.

“Nice to finally meet you, Ms. Couture. Let me introduce you to my team.” He introduces six men and one woman, and I won’t remember any of their names. They all look alike—dark suits, white shirts. The men wear dark ties; the woman doesn’t.

Walker takes a seat next to the US Attorney of Nevada on the attorneys’ side of the table, while I sit in the middle of the other side, flanked by my legal team. A dark-haired young woman enters the room with her stenograph machine, and we make official introductions for the record.

“Ms. Couture, please tell us how you knew Cecelia Lancaster,” Mr. Frieman says.

I smile. That’s a softball question, but one I’m happy to answer. “I was first introduced to Cecelia while in Las Vegas for a party given by Sullivan Healy Newhouse.”

He cocks his head and studies me. “A party? Who was at the party?”

My eyes go wide. “Probably two thousand people, give or take. I can’t be sure. I wasn’t taking the RSVPs.”

He smiles, and it turns my stomach. This is going to be painful.

“Was this one of the poker tournaments you play in?” he asks.

I shake my head. “The first time Nate pulled together a group of us to play poker was, I believe, two years later.”

He studies a blank notepad. “And is that where you met Viviana Prentis?”

“No, we knew each other before playing together.” We’d spent a lot of time together by then.

“Why were you two the only two women playing in this tournament?”

How would I know? That’s a question for Nate and Mason. Today is going to be a long day if I let him get to me. I force a smile and push on. “I believe several women were asked, but only Viviana and I were interested.”

“What was the buy-in?” he asks.

“Each time we played, we each donated at least five hundred thousand dollars to various charities chosen by the winner.”

He writes something on his pad that I can’t make out and then studies me again. “Was that ever difficult to come up with?”

I’m not sure what he’s asking. “The money?”

“Yes. Five hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money.”

I smile. So naïve. “No, it wasn’t hard to come up with.”

He nods and writes something else down. “When did Cecelia Lancaster ask to meet with you the first time?” he asks.

“She contacted me after the first time the group played poker, and we made plans to meet for lunch.”

He looks at me, waiting for me to continue, but I’ve answered his question. “And the reason Cecelia Lancaster wanted to meet with you?” he finally adds.

“She was starting a foundation.”

He looks at me expectantly waiting for me to continue. When I don’t, he asks, “Why would that matter to you?”

“It was a good cause.”

“Did you donate?”

I take a deep breath and look at Marci. She nods for me to continue. “I pledged to donate anything I earned that exceeded ten billion dollars.”

He looks up from his notes. “And how much is that?”

“The first year it was just over