The Boss's Fiance Box Set

by Amanda Horton

  Miranda knew this was her assistant’s attempt at making her feel better. “Yeah, I probably need to do all that.”

  Lexi invited her to spend the night at her apartment, and Miranda eagerly accepted. She was too embarrassed to face Wolfe tonight. But she knew just what to do. She’d cook him his favorite omelet, and bring it to his office first thing in the morning. As she sipped the wine, listening to Lexi talk, her thoughts wandered back to Wolfe. Can he possibly forgive me for everything? The botched food, messing up his mother’s party... But most of all, could he forgive her pushing him away?

  ***

  Miranda stepped into Wolfe’s office with a feeling of trepidation.

  His secretary, Jenna, looked up in surprise. She immediately rose to greet her boss’ fiancée. “Good morning, Miss Miranda.”

  Miranda smiled, fighting the urge to smooth her skirt. Jenna always made her feel under-dressed and over-dressed at the same time. “Hi. I hope I’m not too early. Wolfe doesn’t know I’m coming. Is he already in the building?”

  “Yes, he is, but I’m afraid he’s not in his office. Mr. Hawkins got called to an emergency meeting. Would you like me to inform him that you’re here?”

  “No, please don’t. I just came over to give him this,” Miranda indicated the covered dish in her hand.

  Jenna looked unsure what to do next. “Would you like to leave it in the kitchen?”

  Miranda shook her head. “Do you think he’d mind if I waited inside his office? I really need to talk to him.”

  “Of course.” Jenna led the way. “Let me show you in.”

  This was only Miranda’s third visit to Wolfe’s office. With the sunlight streaming in through the huge windows, everything looked bright and cheery. She headed directly to Wolfe’s desk, depositing the dish on the table. This was her peace offering for being such an idiot last night. She wanted him to see it the moment he arrived.

  She sat down gingerly on the leather swivel chair. Trying to get rid of the sick feeling in her stomach, she imagined Wolfe seated on it with his arms wrapped around her. If all goes well, maybe... She rose from the chair, glancing at the windows. She was curious to see the panorama from his side of the building. It had to be awesome.

  “Ow!” she cried in sudden pain as she stubbed her toes against the lowest drawer of the table. The drawer had been left open.

  She bent down to push it back in place. That was when she noticed the uppermost file inside. It had her name written on the upper right-hand corner.

  What would a file with my name be doing in Wolfe’s office?

  Her conscience issued a warning. Going through his drawers was a huge invasion of privacy. She should just ask about the file later. But compelled by a curiosity greater than she was, Miranda couldn’t help reaching for the file. Information about me? She frowned at the first page. It was all seemingly innocent information: name, address, telephone number, place of work. Why would he need to have a file for this?

  As she flipped to the next page, her blood chilled in her veins. It was her medical records including the address of the clinic where she had an abortion. Miranda’s heart thumped as she read a doctor’s psychological diagnosis. “Safe to assume the patient had been emotionally and physically abused by a close friend or family member leading to the unwanted pregnancy... Suggest pursuing treatment for the identification and management of chronic, post-traumatic responses similar to PTSD.”

  She couldn’t stop reading, moving on to the next pages. She saw news clippings of her arrest and deportation, even a copy of her mug shot taken inside the deportation office where she was handcuffed and interrogated. A painful reminder of the past. Miranda felt weak. It was her life laid bare for anyone to see. It was all there in the file.

  The very last page was a detailed report of a very familiar story—the same story she heard from Lexi only last night. Miranda read the report grimly. Lexi was right. There had been no breakdown. The report included information about Mr. Thompson, the owner of the building, and the offer made to buy it from him. The report ended with the author’s signature. Simms.

  Her body shook uncontrollably. Her jumbled thoughts started to line up in a manner that made too much sense. Simms prepared this file. And Simms only acted upon Wolfe’s command. Of that she was certain.

  Wolfe knew everything there was to know about her. But he’d hidden his knowledge. Why?

  Then a thought struck her. It was so incredible she didn’t believe it was plausible. But as she stared down at the file on her lap, Miranda realized that nothing was implausible now. She grabbed her cell phone and dialed Mr. Thompson’s number.

  The old man picked up on the second ring. “Miranda, it's so nice of you to call.”

  “Mr. Thompson, I need some information. You mentioned there was an offer from someone to buy your property? Do you remember who made the offer?” Miranda’s chest squeezed tight as she waited for Mr. Thompson’s reply

  “I only spoke to a man called...let me see...Sam? Simms? Oh, yes, that's the name. He said he represented a huge pharmaceutical company.”

  Miranda’s fingers tightened around her phone. “Do you remember exactly when Simms made the offer?”

  “I think it was the day you found a guarantor. Honestly, I thought you were just pulling my leg to give you more time. But you came back with a check, so I guess I was wrong.”

  Everything clicked into place. Miranda murmured a goodbye and ended the call. She sat in Wolfe’s chair. Everything she thought she knew was now crashing down all around her.

  Wolfe made the offer to buy because he wanted her desperate. He’d forced her to accept his proposal. He knew how badly she’d wanted the building — she’d told him that when she’d approached him about the loan! And Wolfe had used that knowledge to his own advantage.

  All this time, she’d carried the guilt of using his name and power to further her own dreams. She’d even fallen in love with him! But he was always one step ahead of her. He manipulated her. He knew everything about her—including what buttons to push to get the reaction he wanted.

  “Oh, my God!” Miranda moaned.

  How could she have been so blind? His kindness. His seeming thoughtfulness, always anticipating her every move...like he knew her. He did. Her life was all laid out in the file she found inside his drawer. The betrayal went deep — right to her very core. She’d believed in him.

  Miranda used every bit of strength she had left to stand. She was crushed. It was all an illusion. An illusion concocted by a master illusionist, far beyond her league. She struggled even to breathe. The room choked her. She rose to leave.

  The office door opened. Wolfe strode in. “Why didn’t you let Jenna call me? I would have come back if I knew you were here.” He said with the smile that always seemed just for her.

  Miranda swayed. This was too much.

  Wolfe stepped toward her, taking in her expression. “What’s wrong? If it’s about last night, I took care of it.”

  Miranda found her fury. “Yes. You took care of it. Just like you took care to make sure I’d fall in with your engagement plan. What else have you been taking care of?”

  His eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

  Miranda just shook her head. She shoved the file into his hands and stormed past him toward the door.

  Wolfe glanced at the file and his face went pale. “Miranda, please let me explain. It's not what you think.”

  Miranda looked back, only to shake her head. She could view his shock without any emotion. She felt dead inside, beyond pain, beyond shock, beyond anything. “It’s over, Wolfe.” It had to be. Miranda doubted she would ever recover from the pain of his betrayal. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Wolfe Hawkins studied the toxicology report on his table. His jaw clenched tightly as he read. His eyes flashed dangerously. He threw the report down, and stalked toward the window. His voice was cold when he spoke. “You’re sure about all this, Si
mms?”

  Simms stood at attention. He blanched at the steel in Wolfe’s voice. “The chemical found in the tainted batch of tablets was the same substance found in the food boxes at the Center as well as the food from Miranda’s catering company. All the lab results agree.”

  Wolfe remained silent while digesting the information. When he spoke again, there was no trace of emotion in his voice. “And the footage from the surveillance camera? Is it clear enough to identify the culprit?”

  “Yes. He made no attempt to hide his identity. He must have heard the rumor I floated about.”

  Wolfe narrowed his eyes. “What exactly was the rumor?”

  The security officer’s expression turned smug. “The Security Department was dismantling all cameras in the production floor for twenty-four hours to upgrade the system. I predicted the twenty-four-hour timetable would give the matter the urgency needed for our culprit to risk another move.”

  Wolfe cracked his knuckles. “And the baker? Did he confess?”

  “Yes. Guido Vincenzo admitted he was paid a thousand dollars to add a packet of unknown powder to a sack of flour at the kitchen. He stayed behind after the rest of the crew left, pretending to help clean up. He knew they would be using the ingredient the next day for the party. He claims he doesn’t know the person who paid him but can I.D. him if they met again.”

  The furious burn in Wolfe’s gut turned into a flagrant inferno. He didn’t want revenge. He wanted to get rid of the culprit permanently. He knew Simms would have no hesitation doing the job. The person would never be heard or seen again — if he ordered it.

  “Where is he now?”

  “At my office in the basement,” Simms replied. “He was a chemist when your dad hired him. I don’t think anybody remembered that until I went through his old job application from the archives. That’s probably why he knew how to make the stuff and how to use it.”

  “Thank you, Simms.” Wolfe headed for the door.

  Simms sprinted after his boss. For a moment, Wolfe considered sending him away, but changed his mind. Since all the chaos began, Simms had proven himself invaluable. He needed him close by.

  ***

  As Wolfe strode into Simms basement office, Bruce raised a sweaty brow toward him. “Wolfe, what's the meaning of this? Why are your men holding me here like some lowlife criminal? Don’t they know who I am?”

  He did not look to be having a good day. Two burly guards stood either side of the door, their unflinching gaze turned on Bruce. For a man used to strutting the halls of Hawkins Pharmaceutical, in unquestioned arrogance, being confined to the basement office was intimidating.

  Wolfe’s lip curled in disdain as he pulled up a chair, sat astride it and faced his stepfather. “They know, all right. They know you’re lowlife scum who has been leeching off the Hawkins name for years.”

  The deadly calm in his voice and the withering look he cast the old man terminated any bravado left in Bruce. “But-but what have I done?”

  “Let’s start with your corporate sabotage. That alone could put you in prison for life.” Wolfe stared hard at his stepfather. “Did you even know that deliberate use of a toxic chemical is a criminal offense?”

  “What t-toxic chemicals? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Bruce whined.

  Wolfe caught Simms’s eye and nodded. Simms produced a TV remote and pressed the ON button. A monitor came to life, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. The footage was clear, showing a man enter the empty production line, making straight toward a vat where he dumped the contents of a package into the mix. Simms hit PAUSE. There was no mistaking the identity of the man. Bruce’s features were there on the screen, for all to see.

  Wolfe spoke in a low voice. “Beryllium Cuprochloride, commonly known as malicious powder. It fuses thoroughly with any substance. You never know how it will manifest itself after undergoing a heat process, hence the name ‘malicious.’ In the batch of adulterated medical pills, it appeared as tiny spots, almost invisible to the eye. In baked products, it turns the dough into a paste after an hour. The same substance you used the first time you tried to sabotage this company. The same substance in the food boxes at the soup kitchen. The same substance you paid someone to put in with the flour at Miranda’s kitchen. I am willing to bet my life that after the toxicology results come back of the mix in the vat, we are sure to find the very same malicious powder.”

  Bruce visibly paled. There was no trace of his usual cockiness as he tried to worm his way out of this debacle. “That tape doesn’t prove anything. It’s circumstantial evidence.”

  Wolfe smirked. “I think the court will disagree — especially when I present the baker you paid to contaminate Miranda’s ingredients. He’s positive he can I.D. the man driving a Bentley three blocks away from Dream Kitchen.”

  Bruce’s mouth moved wordlessly too shocked to speak.

  But Wolfe wasn’t finished with him yet.

  “You see, Bruce, the thing about arrogance is that it blinds you. Your first attempt succeeded. You thought you were untouchable. That shaken by scandal, the company would demand stronger leadership — that you could return to your former position, running Hawkins Pharmaceutical with your wife. But things didn’t work out how you planned. The tablets were discovered before they went on the market, and security tightened. But, you needed to ensure the Hawkins name would go down by poisoning the food boxes intended for the Center. I stopped it just in time. You should have given up then, but no—you wanted to be a demigod in Mom’s eyes. So you made secret arrangements with another catering company to be on standby the night of the party because you knew something was bound to show in Miranda’s food.”

  Bruce Simpson sagged in his seat, like a deflated hot air balloon. His face turned purplish, a vein pulsing violently in his temple. He made no attempt to defend himself. The evidence was too clear.

  “That was your first mistake. You think we’re stupid not to notice how quickly the new caterers arrived?” Wolfe stood up. “I’m done with this piece of shit, Simms. Turn him over to the police.”

  As Wolfe headed for the door, Bruce hurtled towards his retreating figure and clutched onto his leg.

  Simms raised a gun. “Unhand him or I’ll fire!”

  Wolfe put a hand up, signaling Simms to stand down. Bruce was no threat.

  Bruce groveled at his stepson’s feet. “Please Wolfe! Don’t turn me over to the police. I’ll do anything you ask. I was angry with you. Think about Diane. She won’t live through that kind of scandal. Please!”

  Wolfe stiffened. He doubted Bruce was actually concerned about Diane’s state of mind. He’d say anything to save his ass. But there was some truth to what Bruce said. Once the news of Bruce’s arrest got out, the media would hound Diane. He didn’t want his mom hurt.

  “Stand up,” he ordered his stepfather. “I won’t turn you over to the police only because I want to protect my mother. Simms will take you to the airport. You will get on the first plane out of the city and stay away from us forever. If I find out that you’ve returned or even try to contact Mom, I will turn over these tapes to the police, and personally see you thrown in jail. Is that understood?”

  Bruce bobbed his head as he babbled his agreement. “You’ll never hear from me again, I swear!”

  Simms nodded to his men. Before Bruce could utter another word, the two burly men took Bruce by one arm each, manhandling him out the door. “We’ll see him on the first flight out of the city,” Simms told Wolfe. “He’ll never show his face in New York again.”

  ***

  Back at Dream Kitchen, Miranda stared down at her ring finger. She looked at the engagement ring with incredulity. She didn’t understand what it was still doing on her finger. She’d just returned from the office of Wolfe’s lawyer, James Collins, determined to honor her side of the agreement. Her head still spun, her ears ringing. She couldn’t make herself understand what the lawyer had said.

  “Knock! Knock!” Lexi popped her head
through the doorway of the office.

  Miranda looked up from studying the ring. She signaled her assistant to come in, massaging her temple to clear her head.

  “Have time for a little gossip?” Lexi asked.

  “It better be a little.” Miranda motioned toward the pile of papers on her desk. “I was just about to go through all these requests for our catering service. I can’t believe we’re booked for the next couple of months. I’ve already had to decline some requests. We need to hire more people.”

  “It’s all good, right?” Lexi’s smile was sympathetic.

  Miranda knew why. Lexi had known Miranda wasn’t doing well before she’d even told her about the break-up with Wolfe. She’d stood by her, just as she’d supported Miranda as she picked up the pieces after the Guggenheim debacle. She winced at the reminder of that night. Back then, both women were braced for the worse. They were sure word would spread fast about how dismally Dream Kitchen failed its debut. “I thought we were gonna close shop even before we started.”