“You didn’t tell me to stop, Caro. In fact, as I recall, you begged me to continue.”
“I shouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t…if you hadn’t—” She broke off abruptly, flushing and biting her lower lip. “No man should have such power over a woman. It’s—it’s indecent!”
“You loved it. I loved it. We’ll do it again tonight.”
“No, we won’t,” she insisted, wishing desperately that she had a mirror in which to check her appearance. She would have to hurry down to her office before her meeting, to make sure she didn’t look like she had just made mad, passionate love on a conference table. A conference table! God, she would never see one again without thinking about what she and Nick had done here on this one. “We won’t,” she reiterated obstinately.
“We will,” Nick insisted. “As you’ve just seen, I can be very persuasive.”
Caroline didn’t know what to say to that—because hadn’t she just proved his boast true, that she couldn’t resist his determined onslaught upon her body and senses? She should be ashamed, she told herself, for being so weak-willed. She should be even more ashamed at how his words excited her, at the way her heart was racing. To cover her confusion, she unlocked the conference-room door and stepped into the corridor beyond, Nick following.
To Caroline’s utter horror, they ran into her grandmother just outside. Knowing it must be obvious to anyone in that moment what she and Nick had been up to, Caroline opened her mouth to speak, to apologize, but with an upraised hand, Kate silenced her.
“No, don’t say anything. That way, I can pretend I didn’t see the two of you.” Kate’s voice was wry, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes twinkled. “But newlyweds or not, don’t let this happen again during business hours. Oh, and Nick, you may call me Grandmother if you wish.” With these startling pronouncements, Kate strode on down the corridor, leaving Caroline standing there with her mouth agape.
“Grandmother wasn’t angry,” she murmured, astounded. “She didn’t disapprove.”
“Well, why in the hell should she? You’re my wife, after all.”
Fifteen
“Duckie,” the low voice on the telephone growled as throatily as it had purred some weeks ago. “I am not happy, Duckie. I am not happy at all. You told me you had an acquaintance or two at the INS. You told me you would get rid of Dr. Nicolai Valkov for me. But he’s still here, Duckie. And that has angered and displeased me so much that I’m afraid…yes, I’m very much afraid…that I’m not going to be able to see you anymore. You see, I don’t like people who don’t keep their word to me, Duckie. They simply can’t be trusted.”
This time, Senator Donald Devane wasn’t leaning back in his big, burgundy-leather chair. Instead, he was hunched over his massive, antique oak desk, like a schoolboy preparing for a caning. He was sweating, but it wasn’t because of any amorous feeling. It was because he was petrified. What if he never saw the owner of the husky voice again? Never saw the black boudoir ensemble? Or worse, had his discreet little affair exposed by an anonymous telephone call to the media. He had a wife and family at home—and the American public didn’t appreciate faithlessness in their politicians. He was going to be up for reelection shortly.
Oh, God, he groaned inwardly. How had he ever fallen for that smoky voice, its seductive owner? He must have been drunk at the time—or totally out of his mind. What was he going to do? He simply had to save himself, his career!
“I—I can be trusted,” he stammered, cursing how his voice squeaked and croaked, revealing his fear. He could almost see the slow, malicious smile that lit up the face at the other end of the telephone. “And I—I will get rid of Nick Valkov, just as I promised. It’s—it’s simply that things are a—a little more complicated, that’s all. Nobody expected him to get married to save himself from deportation.”
“Well, you should have expected it, you fool!” the voice snarled furiously in the senator’s ear, making him shiver as he abruptly remembered all the pictures locked up in the bedroom safe that belonged to the voice. Images of those photographs appearing in the newspapers and on television haunted him horribly. “Nick Valkov is brilliant, one of the world’s foremost chemists, for God’s sake! Did you think he was simply going to stand idly by while the INS labeled him a suspected KGB agent and deported him?”
“N-n-no.” Senator Devane yanked his handkerchief from his pocket to mop his profusely perspiring brow—and prayed his secretary wasn’t listening at the door to his furtive conversation. “But—but who would ever have dreamed he would marry somebody like Caroline Fortune? Good God! He might as well have married one of the Kennedys or Rockefellers, the Kochs or Basses, the Hunts—”
“I get the picture, Duckie!” the voice snapped, incensed.
“But—but what do you expect me to do? The Fortune holdings comprise one of the largest Fortune 500 companies. Kate Fortune is one of the ten richest women in the United States! And Caroline is her eldest granddaughter. You told me nobody would care if Nick Valkov was deported,” the senator dared to say accusingly.
“And nobody does—except for that dried-up old maid of a Fortune granddaughter. I’ve heard rumors that the Fortunes actually paid Nick Valkov to marry her, that she couldn’t get a husband any other way. So theirs isn’t a real marriage, by any means. It’s all a fraud, to keep Nick Valkov from being deported! So don’t take that tone with me, Duckie. I don’t like it—and you know what happens when I don’t like something, don’t you?”
“Y-y-yes,” he stuttered nervously, thinking of all the people in high places who had been brought low, thanks to the owner of the voice that had now turned as cold and hard as an iceberg. “But in all fairness, I did try to keep my word to you. And the INS did interrogate both Nick Valkov and Caroline Fortune. Unfortunately, the two INS agents who conducted the interview were satisfied that the marriage is for real.”
“Well, I’m not! Not by a long shot! And it isn’t, I tell you! It’s a fake. So I suggest you use whatever influence you have with the INS to get Nick Valkov’s file reopened as soon as possible. Because if you don’t, Duckie, you’re going to be very, very sorry. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes, I do, I do.” Senator Devane fumbled anxiously at his tie and loosened his collar, which felt as though it were choking him. “But you’ll have to give me some time to take care of the matter. Given that the Fortunes are involved, things aren’t going to happen overnight.”
“Don’t worry about that. You’re not the only resource at my disposal. I have others. So you see, Duckie, you’re not indispensable. No one is. So you get on the phone to the INS first thing tomorrow morning. Otherwise, I’m going to have to make a few phone calls of my own, Duckie—to the press,” the voice announced with feigned sweetness, then chuckled with spiteful glee before the line went dead, leaving the dial tone buzzing in the senator’s ear.
After hanging up blindly, Senator Devane yanked open his desk drawer, searching frantically for the prescription bottle inside. Locating it at last, he ripped off the lid and popped one of the pills. His heart was hammering so horribly that he feared he was having an attack. He cursed the day he had ever set eyes on the owner of that wicked laugh. Tomorrow morning, he would call the INS. But tonight…tonight, he intended to get very drunk, so he could temporarily forget this dreadful mess he had got himself into.
Bending down in his chair, he opened the concealed pair of small doors set back under the knee-hole, removing a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the bar inside. With trembling, sweating hands, he poured a stiff drink and downed it in a single gulp.
If he didn’t somehow get rid of Nick Valkov, he would be finished, Senator Devane thought. Utterly ruined, his career destroyed and his homelife in shambles. His wife would divorce him. His children would probably never speak to him again. He simply couldn’t permit any of that to happen.
By hook or by crook, Nick Valkov had to go.
Sixteen
Minneapo
lis, Minnesota
It had taken many months of scheming, but there were always weak links in any chain: otherwise decent employees who had personal problems and desperately needed money, dissatisfied employees who harbored a secret grudge against their employers, and hate-filled ex-employees who had lost their jobs and now wanted nothing so much as to gain revenge upon their former employers. More than one of these links had been utilized—although the man who furtively let himself into the Fortune Cosmetics building didn’t know that. The motives and methods of the person who had hired him didn’t matter. All he knew or cared about was the fact that he was being paid a tidy sum for this night’s work.
At a post office box obtained for mailing purposes, he had received a copy of the layout of the Fortune Cosmetics building, a timetable of the security personnel’s and cleaning crew’s schedules, and an identification card that permitted him access to the more sensitive areas of the company, such as the laboratory. This was his primary goal tonight. But first, he made his way to the basement, where he slipped through the regions that were the usual purview of the maintenance crews. There, after slipping his gear bag from his shoulder and laying it aside, he busied himself with shutting off the main valve that controlled the edifice’s water supply.
The intruder didn’t have much time now. At any moment, someone could discover that the building had lost its water. It might be put down to a city line rupturing. On the other hand, somebody might be bright or annoyed enough to call down to the basement to have maintenance check it out.
Hefting his gear bag over his shoulder, he hurried to the bank of service elevators, pushing the Up button. He glanced down at his wristwatch. It was just coming on midnight. He figured that all the employees ought to have gone home by now. Many of the cleaning crews would be winding up for the evening, as well. However, others would still be working, so, as a precaution, he wore a janitorial uniform. In his pocket, he carried a ski mask, in case he needed to hide his face. It wasn’t likely that the need would arise, given the fact that he had the Fortune Cosmetics identification card. Still, it paid to be careful.
Recklessness was what got people caught—and put into prison.
An elevator came to a halt, its heavy doors sliding open to admit him. He relaxed his alert posture slightly when he saw that it was empty. Still, his adrenaline pumped wildly. There was always the chance that it might have had someone in it. He stepped inside, pressing the number of the floor on which the laboratory was located.
Despite the lateness of the house, Nick was ecstatic. Tonight’s work represented a major breakthrough. He was positive, now, that the missing Ingredient X in Kate’s secret youth formula was the mysterious maiden flower, to be found only in the Amazon rain forest, if at all. If not, if it turned out to be only a legend, a myth, there were other plants he could use. But his gut instinct told him the maiden flower was the one he really wanted.
Yawning, he slowly began to recheck the figures he had entered into the computer at the workstation he was using. Then he saved the information to the floppy diskette and pushed the release button, tucking the diskette into the pocket of his lab coat. After that, he put away all the apparatus he had used to run his tests that evening, then finished cleaning up the laboratory.
In his administrative office off the laboratory, he opened his wall safe and slipped the floppy diskette inside, then closed the heavy door and turned the dial a couple of times so it wouldn’t be resting on the final number of the combination. He pocketed the key to the safe and switched off the lights in his office. Then he strolled from the laboratory into the corridor, where the bank of elevators for the upper floors was located.
Poor Caroline. She had probably fallen asleep on the sofa in her office, waiting for him to finish up tonight. Although she continued to try to hold him at bay, sometimes late in the evening like this, Nick would rouse her from slumber and succeed in getting her to make love with him. Over the passing weeks, he had got very adept at sensing when she would prove most vulnerable, most susceptible to his amorous advances. Deep down inside, he thought this was perhaps not very chivalrous of him. But when he weighed it against his desire to win her heart, he didn’t care. She was his wife, and there was no way he was going to lose her.
Reaching her office, he withdrew his key to it from his pocket and unlocked the door. Ever since the incident with Paul Andersen, Nick had always insisted on her keeping it locked after 6:00 p.m. Now, as he stepped inside, he spied his wife as he had suspected he would: asleep on the couch. She looked very young—half woman, half child, he thought—curled up there beneath a hand-knitted afghan.
Crossing the floor, he bent and kissed her mouth. When Caroline stirred and smiled up at him drowsily, Nick knew—his groin tightening with desire—that he was going to get lucky again tonight.
Exiting the service elevator, the intruder sneaked down the dimly lit halls to the laboratory. As he had known it would be, it was locked up tight. But that wasn’t a problem. That’s what his Fortune Cosmetics identification card was for. Glancing covertly up and down the corridor, he pulled the ID card from his pocket. Turning it sideways, he inserted it into the door’s locking mechanism, drawing the card’s magnetic strip down the slot. On the pad, the light changed from red to green, and he pushed open the door, momentarily holding his breath, half expecting an alarm to sound. But there was nothing.
Moving swiftly inside, he made his way to Nick Valkov’s office. By the glow of his flashlight, the intruder could see that the wall safe was right where it was supposed to be. He smiled, pleased. It was always a good sign when the advance information he had been given was correct. He examined the safe. It was a tough customer, but he could drill through it. Setting his gear bag down, he unzipped it, removing a cone-like device that he affixed to the dial. A few minutes later, he had the dial off the safe and was unscrewing the dial ring. Then, choosing a bit intended for heavy-duty work, he inserted it into his drill and began to bore into the safe. The plate behind the dial was meant to foil burglars. He estimated it would take him at least half an hour or more to drill through it.
Caroline thought she must be the most weak-willed person alive to keep surrendering to her husband. Time and again, she had told herself she wouldn’t do this. And still, it kept on happening. It was as though Nick knew when all her defenses would be down and she would give in to him. Even now, as his hands roamed over her naked body, she wanted him again, felt her trembling thighs open for him as though of their own volition. His palm cupped her mound, fingers playing with dark curls, sliding down the slick, fragile seam of her, thrusting deep inside her, arousing her still-throbbing body anew.
“Nick…” she breathed.
“Hmmm?” He kissed her mouth, nuzzled her throat and breasts.
“I’ve…told you…this has to…stop….”
“So? Stop me, then.” He captured her nipple gently between his teeth, tugging on it, teasing it with his tongue. “Just say you don’t want me to continue, and I won’t.” His thumb found the tiny nub nestled between the sensitive folds of her, began circling and rubbing it, making her arch against him involuntarily, a low moan escaping from her lips.
Caroline knew he was telling her the truth, that he would stop anytime she asked him to. The problem was that she couldn’t seem to ask. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, he kissed her, his lips and tongue silencing anything she might have said, leaving her breathless and aching for him. He knew she wanted him inside her. His bronzed body moved to cover her pale one, and he pushed into her, filling her, making her gasp softly.
The rhythm he set was familiar to her now, longed for, welcomed. She wrapped her legs around his waist, taking him deep inside as he drove in and out of her, brought them both to blind, shattering fulfillment.
Afterward, they dressed, and Nick locked up her office while Caroline summoned an elevator to take them downstairs. When the car came, they stepped inside. But instead of pushing the button for the parking garage, she hit the
number for her husband’s floor out of what had now become habit.
“Damn!” she swore softly. “Now we’ll stop at the lab. Sorry. I must be more tired than I thought.”
“It’s all right, baby. It’s only a few minutes wasted.” Nick pulled her against him, cradling her head against his shoulder and pushing the right button. “And you can sleep in the car on the way home. We’ll stay at the apartment tonight.”
The elevator sped downward, then lurched to a halt, the doors opening to reveal the laboratory across the hall. Without warning, Nick’s strong arm shot out, preventing the doors from closing when they began to clang shut again moments later.
“What’s the matter?” Caroline asked, glancing up at him, puzzled. “Did you forget something in your office?”
“No. There’s somebody in the laboratory.” Nick’s face and voice were grim. He flicked the Stop switch on the elevator. “Caro, get on the elevator phone and call security. Then get out of this car and take the fire-escape stairs back up to your office. Lock yourself in, and don’t open the door to anybody but me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but where are you going? What are you planning to do, Nick?”
“Catch whoever’s in the lab, of course.”
He was gone before she could protest, jerking his identification card from his lab coat and ripping it down the slot of the locking mechanism for the laboratory door.
The intruder had finished drilling through the safe. Shining a small, high-beam light through the resulting hole, he watched the wheels moving inside as he rotated the nub of the dial until they lined up and wouldn’t turn anymore. Then, taking a set of lock picks from his pocket, he inserted one into the keyhole, deftly manipulating it until he was able to throw the bolt on the safe.
Hired Husband Page 14
