by Desiree Holt
Table of Contents
Books by Desiree Holt
Title Page
Legal Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademark Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Read more from Desiree
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About the Author
Totally Bound Publishing books by Desiree Holt
Single title
Crude Oil
Beg Me
Down and Dirty
Interlude
Intermission
Four Play
Game On
Swingtime
Party of Three
All Jacked Up
Top or Bottom
Rodeo Heat
Night Heat
Cupid’s Shaft
Trouble in Cowboy Boots
Strike Force
Unconditional Surrender
Lock and Load
The Sentinels
The Edge of Morning
Night Moves
Dark Stranger
Animal Instinct
Mated
Silent Hunters
Cat’s Eyes
Pretty Kitty
On the Prowl
Corporate Heat
Where Danger Hides
Double Deception
Erector Set
Erected
Hammered
Nailed
Antholgies
Night of the Senses: Carnal Caresses
Christmas Goes Camo: Melting the Ice
Treble: Trouble at the Treble T
Subspace: Head Games
Bound to the Billionaire: Made for Him
Three’s a Charm: Double Entry
Collections
Heatwave: Summer Spice
Feral: Black Cat Fever
Clandestine Classics: Northanger Abbey
Corporate Heat
MASQUERADE
DESIREE HOLT
Masquerade
ISBN # 978-1-78686-434-5
©Copyright Desiree Holt 2018
Cover Art by Cherith Vaughan ©Copyright October 2018
Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2018 by Totally Bound Publishing, United Kingdom.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.
Totally Bound Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.
MASQUERADE
Book three in the Corporate Heat series
Hunting a murderer is hot work, in more ways than one.
Lindsey Califaro, second-in-command at Elite Marketing, is suspicious when her boss, Craig Wainwright, is killed in a car accident. She’s had a funny feeling about things around the agency for a while and now her spidey senses are going haywire. Something is wrong and she’s determined to find out what.
John Martino, highly sought-after forensic accountant, is sent by Arroyo to dig into Elite’s books and see if there is an answer there. He expects problems, but what he doesn’t expect is to find a super-smart, hot female who pushes all his buttons and sends his sex drive into overload.
Investigating Elite’s finances and Craig’s private life, the two uncover a sordid trail of sex trafficking and drugs so extensive it shocks them. As they draw closer to the real head of the operation, the heat between them rises and their feelings for each other explode.
As they work to blow open the criminal enterprise, John must do everything he can to protect Lindsey from a master criminal. But will his best be enough?
Dedication
So many, many people help me bring a book to my readers, but there are always special ones that are with me through it all. So, a huge thank you to the unequaled Margie Hager, Joseph Patrick Trainor—who answers my endless questions about procedure and logistics with unfailing patience. Janet Rodman; my wonderful group—Denise Hendrickson-Chapman, Misty Dawn, Courtney Kinder. Fedora Chen, Deb Diem, May McCoy; Maria Connor, my VA, who deserves a medal for putting up with me. To all of you, from the bottom of my heat, thanks for being you. No books of mine would be born or succeed without you.
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Siri: Apple, Inc.
Spider-Man: Marvel Entertainment, LLC
Uber: Uber Technologies Inc.
Prologue
The night was hot and muggy, typical of Florida any time of the year but especially in the summer. The force of it hit Craig Wainwright as he emerged from the air-conditioned office building into the sticky heat that surrounded him. He was glad that years ago he’d learned to dress for comfort, favoring lightweight slacks and soft-collar shirts with the Elite Marketing logo on them as opposed to more formal ties and button-down shirts.
He’d hoped that because he worked late, the oppressive heat of the day would have faded, but no such luck. Just something else to add to his itchy mood, one that had plagued him for more than a week. He had some decisions to make, very unpleasant ones that he wasn’t looking forward to. He definitely didn’t want to have the talk he planned with Lindsey, but it couldn’t be helped.
Making Lindsey Califaro executive vice-president of Elite was one of the smartest things he’d ever done. It allowed him to pursue side projects without worrying about the agency’s operation. But he hadn’t been fair to her and the day of reckoning was coming far too soon. The headache he’d been fighting all evening was a sign that he couldn’t put a lot of this off any longer. He had called her tonight and asked her to meet him early for coffee at the office. Maybe he’d stop and pick up some of those French breakfast rolls she loved so much. Something to put her in a
good mood.
How the hell did I get myself into this fix, anyway?
He was glad his car had the ability to start remotely, letting the air conditioning kick in and cool off before he had to climb into it. Hitting the button on his key fob unlocked the door and he slid in behind the steering wheel. Modern science was wonderful, providing every possible creature comfort imaginable. And Craig was all about comfort.
As he pulled out of the parking garage and headed toward Las Olas Boulevard and home, his thoughts shifted in another direction. The pressure from the other Elite activities was getting to him. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. It forced him into a crazy schedule and the pressure of dealing with it was affecting him physically. In the past few weeks, he’d developed a tendency toward blinding headaches. A checkup with his doctor had revealed just what he thought—they were caused by tension. Now he had a small bottle of little blue pills that could attack the pain the moment he took them. He’d popped one during his last half-hour at work, just to take the edge off.
Too bad they aren’t the other little blue pills.
He smiled at the thought. Maybe he’d get a prescription for those, too. Not that he needed them all that much. He was positive that his problems in the bedroom had the same cause as his headaches. What he should do was take two weeks off and spend them with Natalia, his wife, straightening out their lives. He had never dreamed the situation would escalate the way it had. He wanted to go back to the way things had been before, even if it meant shrinking his income. He had accumulated more than enough to spare.
Yeah. Fat chance.
He sighed and turned on the radio, searching for one of his programmed stations. Ah. There. Soft instrumental music. That would help him relax. He was as tight as a drum and he wanted to ease up before he got home. Maybe he’d take a little detour. The major thoroughfares saw little traffic this time of night. Yes, that’s it. He’d take a drive on I-95. Maybe he could put off the inevitable a little while longer.
Changing direction, he entered the highway, turned up the radio a little and rolled down the windows. A soft breeze blew through the car. Maybe it would soothe him even more. The pill hadn’t done as much as usual. In fact, his headache seemed to be getting worse. The familiar band tightened around his skull, shooting pain into his eyes. And now a sharp stab in his chest had been added.
Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.
Maybe he should pull over on the verge. There wasn’t much traffic this time of night. He could sit there for just a few minutes until the worst of the pain subsided. He turned on his signal and began to ease toward the right. As he did so, a car behind him was suddenly on his bumper, bright lights flooding his car and exacerbating his pain.
What the hell?
“Hey, buddy. Back the fuck off.”
As if he’d heard him, the driver did just that, but the moment Craig began to ease to the right again, there he was, just about kissing Craig’s rear bumper. Thank god there were so few cars at the moment. He didn’t want to crash into any of them. Then, all of a sudden, the driver behind him began flashing his lights from bright to regular to bright. On, off, on, off. It only sharpened the pain in his head and his chest, which was becoming intolerable. He’d have to pull off and figure out how to deal with the idiot behind him.
Without signaling, he cut across two lanes and headed for the shoulder. At that moment the pain spiked and he thought his body would explode. He tried to maintain control of his car, but the pain stole his breath and shut down his brain. He barely even felt the impact of the crash as he hit the barricade wall.
Then he felt nothing.
* * * *
The ringing of her cell phone woke Lindsey Califaro from a deep sleep. She looked at the clock. Midnight. Who on earth is calling me at this hour? The phone chimed again and she checked the readout, her eyes widening. Wainwright. What the hell? Why would Craig call her from the landline at his house?
“Lose your cell phone, boss?” she asked. “And by the way, did you check the time?”
“Lindsey?” The words came out in a rush. “Oh, thank god. This is Natalia.”
Natalia? Why would she be calling? Where’s Craig? Did he ask his wife to call because he was busy? At midnight?
“Yes. Natalia. What’s going on?” She pushed her hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ears.
“Oh, Lindsey. I need your help. The most awful thing has happened. Craig’s dead.”
Shock reverberated through her body and for one second she thought her heart had stopped beating.
“Craig’s dead? Did you say he was dead?” Even repeating the words did not make sense. She must be hearing things. She tried to remember her last conversation with the man tonight. Had there been a problem she’d failed to catch? He’d seemed distracted and tense, but no more than usual. “But when I left him earlier tonight, he was fine. What happened?”
Maybe those headaches he’d been complaining about were worse than she’d thought.
“An accident on I-95.” Natalia’s voice was shaky. “A one-car accident. What was he doing there? He was supposed to be on his way home. To me.”
A good question. Something was very, very wrong here.
“The police were just here.” Natalia’s voice sounded less than steady, unusual for her. “Lindsey, they wanted to take me to identify the body. I-I don’t think I can do that by myself, and they insisted I come down there now. Could you please go with me?”
Her voice broke a little. Lindsey wasn’t used to hearing the woman in an emotional state.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather call one of your friends?”
“No. No, you’re the person I want.” Her voice dropped. “Please do this for me. If it is Craig, he’d want it to be you with me.”
“Of course.” As she spoke, she was pulling clothes out of drawers and her closet. “I’ll be on my way in just a few. Hang tough, Natalia. We’ll get through this.”
Hang tough? What kind of advice is that to give to a brand-new widow?
It was strange to hear Natalia Wainwright so unsettled. The woman could be the poster child for self-control. Smart, beautiful and rich. Her money had funded Elite Marketing. And her connections that had brought them to the attention of the vast international conglomerate Arroyo. Lindsey had joined the firm four years earlier and had immediately been given specific accounts to handle that kept her more than busy.
All the lights were on in the Wainwrights’ huge home in Idylwyld, the very exclusive community where they lived. Natalia must have been watching for her, because the gate at the foot of the driveway swung open before she could touch the control box. She had just pulled up to the front of the house before the door opened and Natalia hurried out, purse in hand.
“Thank you for coming.” She drew in a breath and let it out. “I think I’m still in a state of shock. Craig was such a careful driver. I cannot imagine how this happened.”
Lindsey glanced at the woman as she settled herself in the passenger seat. Dressed in her usual impeccable style in black slacks and a black silk blouse, she wore no makeup and her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. Not her usual look. A good indication of her state of mind that she hadn’t taken the time to primp and fuss.
“We’ll find out everything,” she assured her. “Okay? Just take a deep breath.”
“I keep hoping this is just a big mistake.” Natalia had a death grip on her purse. “That I’ll take a look at…whoever this is and we’ll see it’s the wrong man. That’s why I need you with me.”
“Unfortunately,” Lindsey said, “they wouldn’t make the notification unless they were pretty sure. They could at least match his driver’s license photo.”
“Of course, of course. You’re right.” Hands gripped tight together in her lap, she was silent for the rest of the ride.
Lindsey had little in common with Natalia Wainwright and neither of them seemed to have much to say to each other at the morgue, either. She recognized C
raig’s body right away. Beside her, Natalia just stared for a long time before giving a sharp nod and turning away.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Natalia asked the cop who met them at the morgue.
“I wish I could. Someone saw the wreck and called it in. It looks like, for whatever reason, he ran full-tilt into the retaining wall.”
Natalia’s eyes widened. “Deliberately?”
“I can’t say, ma’am. There are still a lot of details to sort out. Someone will be in touch with you.”
“What about…the body?”
“As soon as they finish the autopsy, they’ll release it to you.”
“A-autopsy?”
The cop nodded. “To determine if the accident was alcohol or drug related.”
Natalia’s face paled, but she just nodded. Lindsey waited as the woman signed whatever papers they needed then walked in tight-lipped silence to the car. The drive back to the house was as long and uncomfortable as the one on the way in.
“Thank you again for this.” Natalia climbed out of the car, her face expressionless.
“If you’d like some help with the funeral arrangements…” Lindsey began.
“The funeral? Yes, yes, of course. Thank you. I’ll let you know when they tell me I can move forward with it.” She started to close the door, then turned back. “I suppose we’ll have to meet to discuss Elite, also. After I’ve figured out how to deal with this nightmare, of course.”
“Elite. Of course. Just let me know. I’ll make myself available.”
“Thank you. Right now, I’m still trying to make sense out of tonight.”
Lindsey wasn’t sure if she should just drive off or not.
“Would you like me to call someone to be with you? I’m not sure you should be alone right now.”
