by Ava McKnight
My brow jerked up. “Pretend?” He’d been in hot pursuit of me since the wedding.
With a grin, he said, “Okay, it’s no secret. But just chill out for two seconds and we’ll see what’s what.”
I shrugged. Put like that, I felt dumb for getting so worked up. We weren’t dating, hadn’t slept with each other and he hadn’t declared his undying love for me. So why was I so uptight about sharing a couple boxes of Chinese takeout with him tonight, when we’d done that very thing regularly since I’d moved in?
Securing the strap of my laptop bag more firmly on my shoulder, I said, “Consider me chilled out.” I gave him a smile and then continued down the hallway to the elevator.
Outside my building, the doorman hailed a passing cab for me. I gave the driver an address on Madison Avenue and put all my thoughts of Mike on the backburner, along with the change in direction our relationship had taken in less than a twelve-hour period. I set my mind for this new case, knowing I had my hands full. I had a list of questions and people to speak with about the sabotage. No leads concrete enough to give me a barometer of where to start, but I suspected I’d get that sense when I walked into the Elan offices and immersed myself in the corporate culture and the aftermath of last night’s foiled product launch.
I entered the marbled lobby and stopped at the security desk positioned before the bank of elevators.
“I’m Lacey Mansfield,” I told one of the uniformed security guards. “Mr. Linnear is expecting me.”
The stocky, blond-haired man consulted a clipboard and gave me a sharp nod. “Mr. Linnear called an emergency board meeting this morning. He asked me to have our vice president of security escort you upstairs.”
“Thanks.”
I waited for the tall, well-built man with salt-and-pepper hair to emerge from an elevator, recognizing Calvin Stoddard from the company detail report Mav had sent over to me following our initial conversation.
He extended a hand to me and said, “I’m Cal. I’ve got a contractor’s badge for you in my office. I’ll show you around first.”
We toured the top three main floors of the Elan Essentials building so I could see where the executive offices were, along with the primary departments I’d be meeting with. Then he escorted me to the photo studio on the level below the lobby, though there were few people milling about at that early hour. The rest of the building was a labyrinth of administrative, operational, sales, distribution, and research and development functions for which I likely wouldn’t have much use.
When we settled in Cal’s office, I reviewed and signed security clearance paperwork. Once that was complete, I asked, “Was your staff involved in the product launch?”
“Of course. Mr. Linnear is adamant about security, but he was especially particular about it yesterday. I escorted Miss McKinley inside the building to test the makeup in one of our labs. There were three different sets of cosmetics—all the same makeup, but two were put together for backup purposes. The sets were tested on Miss McKinley here and then packaged in sealed bags with security tape that bleeds when opened.”
Two days ago, I would have scoffed at the extreme measures taken for one application of makeup, but after last night’s botched launch, I figured whoever served as the worst-case scenario guru in this organization certainly knew their stuff.
Cal continued. “I then traveled with Miss McKinley to the Montlimiere. She had a brief powwow with Mr. Linnear and the marketing and PR people in the hotel suite assigned to her.”
“Anyone else present?”
“Sure. Our photographers and her hair stylist and makeup artist.”
“Were you at that meeting?”
He nodded.
“Where were the cosmetics at this time?”
“Two sets were locked up in the lab, to be rushed over if necessary—say, for example, the original bag was dropped and the vials broke. My security team would have handled the delivery of another set, of course.”
“Of course.” I was beginning to appreciate this worst-case scenario mystery person. Perhaps it was Cal.
“The third set was with Miss McKinley the whole time.”
I frowned. Biel certainly wouldn’t have been the saboteur. For God’s sake, the woman’s modeling career was now on the line. She’d never pull a stunt like that…unless she wanted a viable escape from the business.
Sometimes fame didn’t turn out to be what one expected and backing out could be more difficult than staying in. I’d seen it several times with my college friends, who’d been as ambitious as I’d been when it came to TV careers. A few of them had risen to the top; others had caved under the pressure. I’d fallen somewhere in between.
Thus, I made a mental note to do some digging on the supermodel. Perhaps she’d seen this as an opportunity for escape.
Next, I asked, “Were you in the suite when Biel’s makeup was applied?”
“No. I stepped out to give her some privacy. I stood watch at the door and I had another guard at the elevator to monitor the hallway traffic, because the whole floor was off-limits to guests during that time.”
“Anyone unauthorized coming and going?”
“Just a couple of expected deliveries. Two flower arrangements for Miss McKinley from her agent and Mr. Linnear, as well as a champagne refresh.”
My brow lifted. Cal added, “The hotel staff had set up a small buffet in the suite. Caviar, lobster, shrimp and oysters, along with a couple bottles of champagne. Someone called room service and had more sent up.”
“Did you inspect all the deliveries?”
“Thoroughly,” he said, a hint of indignation in his tone. He’d been congenial up to this point, but now I was scrutinizing his space—and likely stepping on his toes.
Treading lightly, because I needed Cal on my side, given his extensive knowledge and access to all the top-secret areas of the building, I asked, “Any idea when the hotel staff set the suite? An hour before Biel arrived? Several hours? Was there anyone from Elan present while the buffet and champagne were added to the room?”
“It was around four-thirty. I was there the whole time while the staff put together the tables. They left the food and champagne in the two mini-fridges in the room, which I set out myself once I returned with Miss McKinley. We locked the room while I was away and didn’t allow anyone access until I came back.”
“Your people watched the suite while you were gone?”
“Every second.”
“Wow, you really are thorough.”
His chest puffed out a bit, though I was clearly trying his patience. “This wasn’t our first product launch, Miss Mansfield. And this is a cutthroat business—lots of competition and opportunities for corporate espionage. We don’t take any chances around here.”
Yet someone had been able to switch Biel’s makeup.
I was smart enough not to point that out to Cal. I wouldn’t win any popularity points that way.
Instead, I said, “Please, call me Lacey.” I stood and added, “I’ve taken up quite a lot of your time this morning. May I stop back by this afternoon, if I have more questions?”
“Sure.” He got to his feet as well, towering over me by a good six or seven inches. He was formidable, no doubt, but I appreciated his dedication. Not to mention how seriously he took this unfortunate situation. Handing over a business card, he said, “My extension is on here. Just give me a ring and I’ll make time for you.”
“Thank you. You’ve been a tremendous help.” I smiled, then turned to go. I’d jotted down a number of notes and knew I’d find gaping holes once I started speaking with the others. I’d need Cal to fill in more gaps as my investigation progressed.
My next order of business was to settle into the temporary office I’d been assigned. Then I met with a still-fuming Mav and reviewed his press statement, which was vague enough to not give away anything about the ensuing investigation, but stern enough to convey the message Elan intended to get to the bottom of the sabotage. His PR people had
drafted a crisis management plan they’d already begun to implement. I met with the VP and he was about as tight-lipped as an un-steamed clam. The VP of marketing didn’t have much to say either, though both men assured me in their haughty tones no one in their departments would betray the company or leak its secrets.
I had to take it all with a grain of salt and weather the natural animosity that came my way. Part and parcel of the job, and I was thick-skinned enough not to be rattled by executives on the defensive.
Needless to say, the majority of my meetings flew by with everyone closed-mouthed and I was ready to meet with Biel way ahead of schedule. It was a little past one, just after lunch, so I headed down to the main studio Cal had told me was reserved for the campaign. I stepped out of the elevator and encountered another security desk. Not only did I have to flash my badge, the guard had to look me up in the computer system to ensure I was cleared to be in the area. Once I’d passed muster, he led me to a set of double glass doors and swiped his own badge in order to unlock them.
I entered a small lobby and introduced myself to the receptionist, then told her, “I have a three o’clock meeting with Miss McKinley, but thought I’d check to see if she could spare a few minutes now.”
I wondered how she was faring. Wondered if she’d even come into the studio today. If so, I suspected she’d still been escorted through the delivery entrance to avoid the media frenzy I’d had to wade through just to get into the building.
The woman behind the reception desk couldn’t have been more than twenty-two or three and had short, spiky blond hair tipped with purple. Though she wore a business suit, it was a funky, trendy style I’d never seen before. I spared a glance at my traditional red suit and black heels. Despite having on Donna Karan, I felt ridiculously outdated and glaringly un-hip.
The receptionist closed her fashion magazine and looked up at me. “I think everyone’s gone for lunch. They usually get back around two. But you can check the studio, if you’d like.”
Her nonchalance perplexed me. “Do a lot of people come and go down here?”
She shrugged. “Depends on what’s happening with the campaign. It got pretty crazy late this morning, which is why I’m not sure who’s still around.”
I’d have to get a list from Cal of all the people who’d had access to the area before the product launch. And, of course, it’d be a good idea to meet with the head of the lab where Biel’s cosmetics had been packaged.
Wandering through the plush studio, I came across a few large rooms with high-tech equipment set up as though ready for a photo session. Mav had said there was more to the campaign than the product launch, including print and TV ads, all starring Biel. If he didn’t fire her. The jury was still out on that—he hadn’t mentioned cutting her from the campaign; nor had he worn a warm and fuzzy expression when her name had come up earlier.
The corridors in the studio were lined with framed pictures of the famous models who’d pimped the Elan brand. Biel’s was absent, though I surmised that was because Mav had wanted to limit the number of people in the know after he’d signed her. The entire area was quiet and my footsteps were absorbed by the thick carpet. All the dressing room doors were closed, save for one that was cracked open near the end of the hall.
I headed toward it, only to pull up short when I heard a sharp moan, followed by a very demanding, “Don’t stop. Oh God, don’t stop!”
The woman’s lusty voice echoed in the quiet hallway.
She let out another moan, then said, “That’s it. Right there. Oh yes. Oh God, yes. Fuck my pussy.”
I made an abrupt turn and started to walk away, but pulled up short when another female voice came from the dressing room.
“You like that, don’t you, Biel? Beg me to make you come, baby,” she said. “Do it.”
“Please, Piper. Please make me come.”
Piper. As in Piper Levine, makeup artist to the stars?
I did another one-eighty and crept toward the partially opened doors. They were accordion types made of slated wood that looked like white, floor-to-ceiling plantation shutters. I wasn’t one to intrude on another’s romantic interlude, unless it bore relevance to something I was working on. The investigative reporter in me needed to confirm who was doing Biel.
Peering through a slat, I discovered Biel perched on the edge of a sturdy-looking coffee table, her robe wide open to reveal every inch of her supermodel perfection. She had beautifully sculpted breasts tipped with small, tight nipples that made me wonder if they’d been surgically enhanced to look so alluring. Her flat stomach gave way to a bare mound. Her hands were planted behind her to keep her steady and her long legs were spread wide. Between them, Piper Levine knelt on one knee as she pumped a large crystal dildo in and out of Biel’s pussy.
My mouth gaped. First of all, who would have thought a gorgeous model who could have just about any man on the planet would be a lesbian? Second…whoa. Biel McKinley was a lesbian. And so was her makeup artist, Piper Levine.
So that’s how the generation after mine rolled. They were all too hip with their trendy suits, spiky hair and girl-on-girl action. I suddenly felt boring and over the hill at thirty.
I let out a long-suffering sigh, unable to catch myself. Biel’s head snapped up from where she’d been watching Piper fuck her with the sex toy. Piper took no notice of me and continued to go at Biel. But the supermodel smiled as I stood between the gap in the doors.
“Oh God, that’s totally hot,” she said, her emerald eyes on me.
I willed myself to retreat as the heat crept up my cheeks. But I couldn’t get my feet to move from where they’d taken root. My nipples tightened behind my bra and my pulse accelerated at the erotic vision before me.
Biel’s teeth clamped down on her bottom lip. A heartbeat later, her head fell back, her long dark-auburn hair spilling over her shoulders and down her back, which arched and thrust her breasts toward the ceiling. Her hips lifted off the table as Piper pushed deep, pulled out and pushed again, faster and harder each time. Biel kept her eyes open and stared at my reflection in the mirror that ran the length of the far wall. “Yes,” she whispered. “Right there. That feels so good. Oh!”
She came with a visible shudder, her hypnotic gaze locked with mine.
My heart seemed to beat in my throat. I couldn’t swallow it down or dislodge it. Biel’s vibrant eyes stayed connected with mine as her body trembled from her orgasm. I wanted to walk away, but didn’t. I opened my mouth to say Lord only knew what, then promptly closed it when I realized there was nothing I could say that would be professional and couth.
Piper withdrew the dildo from Biel and crossed to the double vanity to wash it off. As she dried her hands, she glanced up and caught my reflection in the mirror. Her head whipped around and I tried to say something again, but nothing appropriate came to mind.
Biel finally stretched and then stood. Wrapping her floral-print robe around her and pulling the sash tight at her waist, she said, “Come in, Lacey.”
Miraculously, I found my voice. “I’m sorry to intrude. I was ahead of schedule and thought I’d see if you were available.” Of course, that neither explained nor excused my voyeurism.
Biel waved a manicured hand in the air. “No intrusion. We should be more discreet. But everyone was gone for lunch, so…” She shrugged and then turned to Piper. “You didn’t meet Lacey Mansfield last night. You’d already left for your other gig.” Glancing back at me, she said, “This is Piper Levine. My makeup artist.”
“I know,” I managed to choke out.
“Nice to meet you.” Piper was not as blasé about my witnessing their sexual encounter as Biel. She collected all of her belongings, including the sex toy, and slung the strap of her Louis Vuitton tote over one shoulder, looking tense because I’d stumbled upon their secret affair. To Biel, she said, “Meg called earlier. She and Lanie want us to meet them at ten tomorrow night. For once, let’s try not to be late, hmm?”
Biel smirked. “It’s no
t like I do it on purpose, you know.”
Piper gave her a kiss on the cheek and stalked out of the room, breezing right past me and leaving a chill in the air.
Unfortunately for me, I was still so shell-shocked I forget to tell Piper I needed to meet with her as well.
Biel drew my attention. “Want champagne? We just opened some Cristal.”
“Thanks, no.” It was only one o’clock, after all.
Biel refreshed her drink, then strolled over to the vanity and popped open a bottle of prescription meds. She tossed back two pills and washed them down with a sip of her bubbly. Curiosity over what she took nearly killed me.
I asked, “Do you have a few minutes to answer some questions?”
“Sure,” she said in her soft, singsong voice. “But just a few. I’ve got to get across town to meet with my agent. Big doings this afternoon.”
She reached for her iPhone, scrolled through calls or emails or texts and then plopped down on a pristine, armless white sofa. Patting the cushion next to her, she said, “Have a seat.”
I elected to sit across from her on a matching sofa, the coffee table between us. That didn’t work for me, though. I couldn’t get the image of Biel perched on the edge of it as Piper fucked her from my mind. I moved to a chair.
Biel smiled again. “I’ve made you horribly uncomfortable.”
“Not at all,” I lied. “Um, can you give me a rundown of events from the time you arrived here yesterday until the unveiling of the makeup on the rooftop at the Montlimiere?”
She nodded. “Of course. But there’s a lot to tell and I’m running behind. A terrible habit, if you didn’t notice from Piper’s snarky comment.” She stood and went over to the closet to pull out a suit. Holding a color-blocked one with a tiered hem in front of her, she asked, “What do you think? Conservative enough for a business meeting with my agent?”
Another trendy ensemble that blew my mind, and one much too cutting edge to ever be considered conservative. Regardless, I said, “It’s great.”
“Phew. I’m so not into professional attire.” Her emerald gaze slid over me. “But you’re clearly a business fashionista. I love your suit. Donna Karan, right? My mom’s a huge fan.”
