One Week Later
“How does it feel to be a celebrity?” Della asked, snuggling up to Matt on her queen-sized bed.
“It’s everything it’s cracked up to be,” he teased, kissing her neck. “Plus I get to go home with the prize. You.”
Della stroked his bare chest. “Thank you, Matt, for taking a chance, risking everything. This could have backfired on you.”
“I believed in you, babe. Even though all the numbers were telling me something different.”
She turned full on her side and propped her head up with her hand. “Tell me again how you cracked the case,” she insisted, like a little kid wanting a bedtime story.
Matt chuckled. “Again?”
“Come on,” she whined. “Just once more.”
“Okay, okay. Horace Burke got to a point where he honestly believed he was beyond the reach of the law. And he was so arrogant with it, he kept the evidence right in his office. The dummy corporation that he’d set up used the same tax identification number as your shop when you took it over. The corporate number was right on the spine of the binder. When I saw it, things just clicked. I’d been running your number so often I’d memorized it.”
“And Paul handled the corporate accounts?”
“Right. We went through each one, line by line, and there it was. By the time they finish investigating him, there’s no telling how many more accounts he’d set up like that. You wound up paying taxes that ultimately went directly into his account.”
“Wow,” was all she could say. She reached down on the floor and picked up a copy of the Daily News and held it up in front of her.
The first two pages of the newspaper detailed the crack-down at the IRS that began with Matt Hawkins’s discovery of Horace’s files. And according to the initial reports, Horace Burke wasn’t the only one going down.
“You look pretty good on the front page. Almost handsome.” She kissed his lips. “But ain’t nothing like the real thing, baby,” she sang off-key.
Matt rolled her beneath him. “Don’t quit your day job, love.”
Della playfully pinched his thigh. “Speaking of day jobs, what are you planning to do about yours?”
“I’m not sure. They’re offering me all kinds of promotions, salary increases, you name it.” He sighed. “But I don’t know. I didn’t truly realize until you came into my life what the job had done to me over the years—what I’d allowed it to do to me.”
“It’s been about choices and change from the moment we met,” Della said softly. “Whatever you decide to do, I’m sure it’ll be the right decision, and I’ll stick by you.”
“Will you, Della? Really stick by me?”
“Of course, sugah, you’re my hero,” she whispered against his mouth. “How many women are lucky enough to say they have a real live hero as their man?”
“So, I’m your man now, huh?” he asked, stroking her hip.
“You’d better be, or else I’ll have a whole lot of explaining to do to myself in the morning,” she replied, locking her mouth to his.
* * *
The entire staff was in all their finery, ready to party. The DJ had arrived and was all set up. The caterer had totally outdone himself with trays of buffalo wings, deep-dish macaroni and cheese, peas and rice, collard greens, string beans, fried chicken, and six pies for dessert. None of that fake finger food for her opening night, Della had decided. This was going to be a throw-down party.
Chauncie had taken charge of decorating and the club looked fabulous. Maybe she’d find a career in interior design, Della thought as she surveyed the space.
She checked her watch. Five minutes to nine. Five more minutes and she’d open the doors to Della’s Place. Her heart filled with pride. She’d done it. Actually done it. All this was hers.
She turned to where Matt stood in the corner—caged in the corner, was more like it—by all the female staff. She smiled. Since he’d decided to quit the IRS and go into his own business, everyone wanted him to be their “personal” accountant. She and Matt definitely had a rocky start, but she was sure that the road ahead would be a lot smoother.
Chauncie eased up alongside her mother and kissed her cheek. “You did good, Ma,” she said, truly happy for her mother.
Della looked around. “Yes, it is great, isn’t it?”
“Humph, I wasn’t talking about the club. I was talking about Mr. Wonderful over there. He’s a doll.”
“That he is. You didn’t do too bad yourself, sweetheart.”
“I know. Drew is the best thing that ever happened to me,” she said, looking across the room at her handsome husband.
Drew opened the door to the club and the crowd began streaming in, oohing and ahing at the decor.
The DJ played Whitney Houston’s “I’m Your Baby Tonight,” and the party was on.
Ruthie, Reggie, and Blaize came to stand with Della and Chauncie.
“Congratulations, girl. You did it,” they shouted over the music.
Della beamed.
“And you got the man, too,” Ruthie said with a smile.
Della watched Matt’s steady approach. “Magic happens at Della’s,” she said with a wink, just before she stepped into Matt’s arms. “It could happen to you!”