by Kaylea Cross
“Your personal affairs do not concern me,” Dennis replied coolly. “But when it comes to work matters, I think that professional courtesy behooves you to keep me in the loop.”
Janet felt her face burn. So there it was: she was of no concern to Dennis Walker.
“I’m sorry,” Dennis retreated. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”
In spite of herself, Janet’s heart quickened. Did that mean that he really cared? Could it be that he too, just like her, yearned for them to become something more than whatever it was that they were to each other?
Dennis finished his drink and signaled to the bartender for another round. “Janet, don’t you realize the importance of everything that you just told me? Alex is a crook, and what’s worse, he is working for even bigger crooks.”
“Yes, but what’s to be done?” Janet struggled to hide the disappointment in her voice: Dennis only cared about work after all.
“Don’t you see it?” Dennis asked.
Oh, I see it, Janet thought. It’s crystal clear. You only need me when it’s work-related. Like when you got me to get all that evidence on the Bostoff case.
“Alex sabotaged your work on the Borrelli case because his superiors told him to do so, and he got promoted in return. Now, the same thing is happening with Emperial. David Muller must have friends in some very high places,” Dennis continued, oblivious to Janet’s mood. “But this time”—Dennis paused, placing his hand on Janet’s arm—” you’ve got me by your side. I won’t let Alex destroy everything we’ve worked for.”
Under the direct gaze of Dennis’s eyes, Janet felt something inside her shift. He looked so sincere, so concerned. But he didn’t care about her; work was the only thing that mattered to him. Work and one night stands. Part of her wanted to storm right out of there, but she knew that she had to finish her story since Dennis was bound to find out anyway. “Dennis, I haven’t told you everything.” Janet gulped, anticipating another outburst from Dennis.
Instead, his voice softened. “What is it, Janet?”
“During my meeting with Alex he asked me to be his eyes and ears … He wanted me to snitch on you.”
“It seems that I’m rather high on Kingsley’s list. I presume that you agreed? This is going to be fun,” Dennis added, rubbing his hands.
“What do you mean agreed? Of course not.”
“You refused?”
“Yes,” Janet mumbled. Not only had she refused Alex’s task, she had told him exactly what she thought of him, which was not much.
Dennis fixed his eyes on her. “Janet, tell me exactly how the conversation went.”
Janet took a long sip of her drink. “I told him that I wasn’t going to spy on my colleagues, to which Alex replied that he had the power to fire the whole team, one by one. And I told him that there wasn’t anyone else left of retirement age on the team, so he wouldn’t be able to bully people into retiring like he did with Ham and Ann.”
Janet braced herself for Dennis’s indignation; instead, she saw a smile on his face, and what looked like a glint of awe in his eyes. “Janet Maple, you’ve got guts.” Dennis squeezed her arm. “Don’t get me wrong, I think it was very brave of you to tell Alex off that way, but perhaps—”
“Perhaps it was not the smartest thing to do?”
“Look, I’m not here to criticize you. If anything, I’m grateful. You could have taken Alex up on his offer and not told me anything about it. But instead you warned me. Thank you for that.”
Their eyes met, and Janet thought she saw a flash of something far stronger than gratitude in Dennis’s gaze. But then it was probably nothing more than her wishful thinking. “So you’re not mad at me?” Janet blurted out, cursing her own sheepishness. As if Dennis Walker had any right to be mad at her. If anything, it should be the other way around.
“No, I’m not mad at you, Janet.” Dennis squeezed her hand this time, moving in closer. “But I hope that you’ll consider my suggestion.”
“What is it?”
“I understand how you feel about Alex, but if you want to get back at the sucker, you’ll have to put your emotions aside. Do you think you could do that?”
“What do you have in mind?” Janet asked. A suggestion coming from Dennis Walker could never be simple.
“Go into his office on Monday and apologize. Then do what he asked you to do.”
Janet crossed her arms on her chest, flaring with indignation. She was not apologizing to Alex. “Why don’t you do it yourself, Dennis? What’s stopping you from sucking up to the new boss?”
Dennis shook his head. “Janet, you really need to learn how to cool it if you want to outmaneuver a man like Alex. And for your information, I would gladly suck up to him, but the prick hates my guts. He’s been sent here to shut me up, and there’s no way on earth I can ingratiate myself with him. But you, on the other hand,” added Dennis, eyeing Janet appraisingly, “have all the necessary equipment.”
Janet tightened her arms around her. “If you’re suggesting—”
“I’m suggesting that we expose that hypocritical bastard Kingsley for the slime that he is, and in order for us to do that we’ll both need to swallow our pride. Please, Janet, just trust me on this. Together we can outmaneuver the dirtbag.”
“Fine,” Janet sighed. She didn’t like Dennis’s idea in the slightest, but then she didn’t really have much choice. At least this way she would have a fighting chance with Dennis standing by her side.
Chapter Six
Janet paced the floor of her office, clasping and unclasping her hands. The prospect of apologizing to Alex turned her stomach, but she had promised Dennis that she would and there was no going back now. How many women ended up having to apologize to their ex-boyfriends? Not many, but she was one of the lucky few. There was no use grumbling about it. She might as well get the humiliation over with.
With leaden steps, Janet walked down the hallway that led to Alex’s office. She was about to knock on his door when the sound of a female voice stopped her. “Do you have an appointment to see Mr. Kingsley?”
Janet turned around and saw that the question had come from Georgiana Russell, the flashy blonde Janet remembered Alex introducing as his assistant. “Hi, Georgiana. No, I don’t, but I was hoping I could see him.”
“I am in charge of Mr. Kingsley’s schedule,” Georgiana replied, pouting her pink lips for emphasis. “I will check if he is available.”
Before Georgiana had a chance to attend to her task, Alex’s door opened and the man himself stood in the doorway. “Janet! What a pleasant surprise. Come in, come in.”
“Thank you, Alex.”
Alex leaned against the door, holding it open with his shoulder. “Please, have a seat,” Alex offered, motioning at the chair that stood across from his desk and closed the office door.
Janet sat down and crossed her legs, her skirt hiking up a few inches above her knee. When they had been together, Alex had often told her that he loved the shape of her legs. She might as well use every weapon in her arsenal.
“Alex,” Janet started tentatively, “I wanted to apologize for speaking out of turn during our meeting last week.” She lowered her eyelashes for added effect and then looked up at him again. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m not like that at all. You are the head of this department now, and I want to assure you that I will diligently carry out any task that you choose to delegate to me. I can’t tell you how sorry I am and how badly I feel about what happened.”
“No need to apologize, Janet,” Alex assured her, waving his hand magnanimously. “I understand completely. We are all human, and we all can be guilty of overreacting at times.”
“I am so glad that you understand.” What a pompous prick Alex had become. He was so full of himself he could not see past his own nose.
“And I am so glad that we have an understanding, Janet. I promise that you will be well-rewarded for your cooperation.”
“So, is there anything in pa
rticular you’d like me to do?” Janet asked.
“For now, I just want you to keep a real close watch on Dennis Walker. I tell you, Janet, the senior management is none too happy with the stunt he pulled during the Bostoff / Emperial investigation. He won’t get away with those kinds of antics on my watch. Not him, not anyone else for that matter. If you see anything that doesn’t look right, you let me know immediately.”
“I will, Mr. Kingsley.”
“Now, Janet, such old friends as us hardly need to bother with formalities, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Thank you, Alex.”
“Thank you, Janet. I’m so glad to know that I have a friend in you.”
“Of course, Alex. I’d better get back to work.” Janet rose from her chair and moved toward the door.
“And Janet?”
“Yes?”
“Let’s grab a drink after work one of these days.”
“Sure. I’d like that.” Janet hurried to leave before Alex would come up with a place and time.
* * *
“So, how did it go?” Dennis looked at Janet across the table. They were having lunch in a pub several blocks away from the office. Dennis had specifically chosen a table that was facing the door to survey any new arrivals.
“I think he bought it.”
“Told you so. Aren’t you glad that you listened to me?”
“I’ll be even gladder when we nail the bastard.”
“Boy, I wouldn’t want to cross you, Janet. So, what does the boss want you to do?”
“Oh, nothing other than spy on your every move and report to him immediately any suspicious activity.”
“Sounds like you’re going to have your hands full.”
“Oh, and he also mentioned that he might want to have drinks sometime.”
“Oh?” Dennis’s eyebrows rose. “Look, Janet, I wouldn’t want you to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”
“Relax, Dennis. I’m a big girl. I can handle Alex,” Janet’s voice was playful, but inside she was sizzling with delight at Dennis’s reaction. The man was definitely jealous.
“I just meant that I wouldn’t want thing to get too far out of hand.”
“They won’t. I wonder if I’m the only one Alex asked to spy on you. I wonder if he spoke with Laskin at all. Do you think we should ask him?”
“Oh, I don’t think we should. He might get overexcited. He’s great at muckraking in Excel spreadsheets, but when it comes to undercover work he can’t handle the stress. He might blab us out to Alex.”
“This is hardly undercover work, Dennis.” Janet shook her head. Male vanity never ceased to amaze her. It was not enough for Dennis to know that he was far better looking and charming that Laskin, he had to stomp on the poor chap every time he got the chance.
“Sure it is. It’s internal undercover work,” Dennis retorted.
“I just thought it might be nice to have Laskin on board, but suit yourself.”
“I’m not saying that it’s a bad idea, but I think it’s too early for that, that’s all.”
Chapter Seven
David Muller motioned to the waitress for another round of drinks. A few moments later, a pretty blonde brought two dirty martinis to the table. The service at Delmonico’s was top-notch. David was a frequent patron, and the waiters practically fell over themselves in order to please him.
“To fortuitous outcomes,” said David as he raised his drink, smiling at his lunch companion, Tom Wyman.
“Cheers.” Wyman took a long swallow of his drink. “I must admit that I thought it was going to be touch and go for a while,” Wyman added, popping an olive into his mouth.
“For a while,” David conceded, “but not for long.” Wyman deserved much of the credit for the happy outcome, but that did not give him the right to rub it in. Had Wyman not introduced David Muller to Aileen Finnegan, David would not be celebrating his exoneration, but that was where Wyman’s contribution ended. David did the rest of the work himself and would have to continue doing it for the foreseeable future. The authorities had built what seemed like a bulletproof case against David Muller and his hedge fund, Emperial; the broker David conducted his dealings through; and Bostoff Securities, along with its owner, Jonathan Bostoff. Fortunately, however, there was no such thing as bulletproof evidence—not when one was dating the daughter of New York’s attorney general. Aileen Finnegan was far from being a beauty, but her father’s political clout more than made up for her physical shortcomings.
“Aileen sure has fallen for you. But then you were always quite the ladies’ man.”
David downed the rest of his drink, refusing to dignify Wyman’s remark with an answer. Wyman had been in just as much hot water as David. The services that Wyman had performed for Jon Bostoff and Bostoff Securities were egregious enough for Wyman to lose his law license and would have cost him a huge fine and possible jail time. David had been the one to take the bullet for both of them. It just so happened that Aileen Finnegan fancied David’s British charm. Despite his last name, David Muller had little to do with Germany except for his ancestors who had left their homeland for Great Britain somewhere in late eighteen hundreds. Not that David cared: his was not a pedigree worthy of a family crest. But while his Essex accent placed him solidly in the middle-class in his homeland, to Americans he was bona fide English nobility.
“You are aware that Cornelius Finnegan is expecting you to propose marriage to his daughter, right? He already thinks of you as his son-in-law.” Wyman would not relent.
David flinched at the reminder of the hefty price he had agreed to pay for his and Wyman’s freedom.
“They hung all the blame on that dope Jon Bostoff, but the decision could easily be reversed if additional evidence were discovered,” Wyman added.
As if David needed reminding just how much additional evidence could come to light. He had devised the scheme himself, and he had hired Tom Wyman to help him execute it. Bostoff Securities was struggling financially, and Jonathan Bostoff, who had just taken over the company management after his father, was the perfect mark. Hungry for profits, he was dumb enough to go along with David’s plan. David sent stock prices plummeting while reaping ginormous profits from his scheme, but legally Bostoff was on the hook. All of David’s orders had been sent through Impala Group, a Cayman Island-based company that Wyman had registered in Bostoff’s name. The scheme seemed impenetrable until an undercover Treasury investigator managed to get Wyman drunk and steal company documents from him, exposing David’s elaborate cover-up. Cornelius Finnegan’s mighty hand had made the evidence inadmissible, but David understood that his fortune could easily change if he lost Finnegan’s protection. “I wonder what the statute of limitations is on the case …” David mused.
Wyman placed his glass on the table and stared at David. “Listen to me, David, and listen well: Cornelius Finnegan is not a man to cross. He takes his family matters close to heart. If you were to so much as harm a hair on his daughter’s head, the man would make sure that you never saw the light of day again.”
“Yeah, you’re not the one banging her, Tom.” Now that the deal had been struck, David felt that he had exchanged the threat of physical prison for a figurative one. The prospect of years of making love to a woman one abhorred seemed a sentence too wicked even for the most inventive prosecutor to assign.
“I would gladly do the honors, but she picked you. Get some Viagra for crying out loud!”
Normally, David would have been insulted by Wyman’s words, but as the image of Aileen’s fleshy thighs and udder-like breasts materialized in his mind, Viagra started to sound like a very good idea.
“Get off your high horse, David,” Wyman continued. “Let’s look at the facts: yes, you’ve made good money, but as far as the big timers are concerned, it’s small change. With Cornelius Finnegan backing you, you could play in the big leagues and no one would as much as dare lay a finger on you.”
“Fine, you’ve convinced me. Now, let�
��s order,” David snapped. A good steak was just what he needed to lift his spirits.
An hour later, David Muller exited Delmonico’s in a much better state of mind. He declined Wyman’s offer to split a cab under the pretext of wanting to walk off the heavy dinner.
Once he saw Wyman drive away in the cab, David signaled for another taxi. He might be required to deliver sexual pleasure to Aileen Finnegan for the foreseeable future, but that did not mean that Aileen would be the only woman receiving his attention.
David checked his watch: he was right on time. In a few minutes, Mila Brabec would be in his arms. A look of longing came over David’s face as he thought of Mila’s long, slinky legs and the way she wrapped them around his shoulders when the two of them united in all-consuming passion. Mila’s blue eyes were like deep pools of water, not tiny slits like Aileen’s, and Mila’s breasts fit gracefully into the palms of David’s hands instead of sloppily spilling over like Aileen’s. Mila’s skin was unblemished ivory, as opposed to Aileen’s never-ending freckles that were splattered over her face and her forearms, and Mila’s long hair was as dark and smooth as onyx, not at all like Aileen’s frizzy red mop. Until he had met Mila Brabec, David Muller had been proud to say that he had never really been attached to a woman. But now he knew that all those years of idle sex were meaningless. At the age of thirty-nine, he had fallen in love for the first time.
He had started seeing Mila when his scheme with Bostoff Securities had been in full swing. At the time, David’s world had seemed complete: he was rolling in dough and bound to make more of it. David bit his knuckles. Just when things seemed to be going your way, life turned the tables on you and spat you right in the face. He dreaded the thought of Aileen and the many nights and days he would have to spend with her. In a way he felt sorry for the girl: a twenty-nine-year-old virgin! The idea seemed ridiculous but in Aileen’s case it had been true. Had a different woman been involved, David might have been flattered, but with Aileen he was merely reminded of how dire his circumstances had been. Apparently, no man had considered Aileen to be a worthy conquest. Still, as much as he griped, he knew that being sentenced to Aileen was better than being sentenced to jail. He had bartered his freedom to achieve his aims before.
