Lucky Charm: A St. Patrick's Day Irish Billionaire Fake Fiance Romance

by Eva Luxe

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the driver said.

  “Do what?” I asked.

  The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Research. Trust me. Mr. Kent will tell you everything you need to know in the meeting.”

  “Well, the problem with information like that is that it’s always unreliable. It’s biased in favor of the party relaying the information to me. Facts from the internet are straightforward.”

  “Is it?” the driver asked.

  I looked up and caught his stare in the rearview mirror. His face was reminiscent of a fun grandfather I’d always wished I had, but his eyes held something else. Something I couldn’t really place, even though it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  What the hell had I just gotten myself into?

  The driver came to a stop and helped me out of the car. He led me to the entrance of the building, and I was promptly greeted by someone akin to a bellhop. He instructed me to follow him as he bowed at my entrance. Then we made our way to the elevator.

  “Are we heading to Mr. Kent’s office?” I asked.

  “We are, ma’am,” the man said.

  We rode up many floors before we came to the top one: the penthouse suite of the seafood company empire. The doors opened and dumped me out into an opulent office space, and my eyes scanned the room for any clues as to who this man was.

  There were floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned all sides of the office, and they were tinted from the outside. So my client enjoyed seeing things without being seen himself. The marble floors were expensive and shined to perfection, which meant he was probably a perfectionist himself. Not a vase was out of place and not a piece of furniture was crooked.

  And that was when I noticed the furniture was actually bolted into the marble floor.

  He wasn’t a perfectionist. He was a control freak.

  “Welcome, Miss Conwell.”

  I watched a man spin around in a chair at a cherry mahogany desk before his eyes settled onto mine.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Welcome to Kent Enterprises. I hope the drive wasn’t too hard on you?”

  “Not at all. It was only twenty minutes, and I did none of the driving. Your driver is very nice, by the way.”

  “Was Micah not to your standards?” he asked.

  I cocked my head at him slightly before I took another step forward.

  “The man in the elevator,” he added.

  “Oh, he was just fine. Quiet, which was nice.”

  “So you enjoy quiet?”

  “More than most assume,” I said.

  “Why don’t you come take a seat?”

  I approached his desk and sat down in the chair across from him, taking in every detail I could. The smile on his face was white, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  His hands were clasped on his desk, but his knuckles were white. He was gripping them, which meant he wasn’t relaxed. His eyes were unwavering in a way that was unnerving, so I rolled my shoulders back and crossed my leg to give him the perception that I wasn’t intimidated by him.

  I saw his cheek tick at my posturing, which meant he knew what I was doing. Which meant he knew what he was doing.

  “I have to say, this is very unorthodox. Usually, there’s a file folder of information placed on my desk, and I only reach out to the client if I require any clarification on the issue.”

  “Oh, you mean a folder like this?”

  He held up a manila envelope from his lap, and I sighed. He was a dangler. Someone who felt people should come to him and get what they needed instead of him going to them and giving them something.

  Wonderful.

  “There’s a man I want you to track down,” Kent said.

  He pressed the file onto his desk and slid it toward me.

  “His name’s Zach Harte. I believe he’s stealing from my company.”

  “What gives you that impression?” I asked as I took the envelope.

  “There have been some cyber attacks on my company recently. I didn’t think anything of it there for a while because nothing seemed to be missing. No documents or paperwork. No one’s hours were altered, and no one was randomly laid off.”

  “You have people breaking into your technological system to lay people off?” I asked.

  “I struggle with PETA quite a bit in my line of work. They like to do really fun things to make my life more… interesting.”

  I pulled out the information he had on this guy before my eyes flickered back up to the man in front of me.

  “Is this man involved with PETA?” I asked.

  “Isn’t that your job to figure out?” he asked.

  “All I’m wondering is why you think this man is stealing from you,” I said. “Usually, clients come to me and say, ‘someone’s stealing,’ or ‘someone’s cheating on me,’ and it’s up to me to put the pieces together. You’ve already figured out someone’s stealing, and who it is. What do you need me for?”

  “I want my money back,” Kent said. “It’s rightfully mine. I earned that money and so did the workers of this company. I can’t prove anything, however. It’s all circumstantial.”

  I started looking through the file and saw what he meant. There were bank statements of missing chunks of money, but nothing that would trigger a flag. Three hundred dollars here, five hundred dollars there. It wasn’t like this guy was siphoning off thousands of dollars at a time.

  “And you think it’s this guy,” I said.

  “I know it is. I just can’t prove it.”

  “Uh huh. Well, just understand that my research will be thorough and that this man—in my eyes—is innocent until I can find out otherwise.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Miss Conwell. I just wanted to give you all the information I was working with.”

  “Well, someone is taking money from you, by the looks of these accounts,” I said. “Have you checked them lately?”

  “I have someone checking them now. We’ve been monitoring them closely.”

  “How much has gone missing since this all started?” I asked.

  “Just shy of fifty thousand.”

  “Is there any way I could personally take a look at the accounts?”

  “No.”

  I slowly panned my gaze up to him and sighed.

  “Mr. Kent, if I’m going to do this well, then I’m going to need unfettered access to the accounts that have been compromised. I’ll need to keep tabs on them myself. I’ll need to interview all those in your company who monitor and have access to those accounts.”

  “Interview and talk with whomever you need to. Any access you need to those accounts, you can route through me, and I’ll have them email you whatever you need.”

  Yep. He was definitely a control freak.

  “Well, this is a wonderful start, Mr. Kent. Do you mind if I conduct a few interviews since I’m here at the office?”

  “You do whatever is necessary,” he said. “My driver and car are at your disposal whenever you would care to go home. Or back to your office. Or wherever it is that strikes your fancy.”

  “Thanks… I think.”

  “You’re quite welcome,” he said, grinning.

  “Well, this has been fun. If you could do me a favor and write down a list of names—”

  “It’s already in the file,” he said.

  I shuffled through the papers and found a sprawling list of names. It had their office numbers and their phone numbers. Their addresses and their cell numbers. Everything I needed to track them down and question them if I needed to.

  “The highlighted ones are the people who have access to the compromised accounts,” he said. “I hope that aids in your work a little bit?”

  Had I stepped into the twilight zone?

  “Um, yes. It does, Mr. Kent. Thank you. I will get to work, and whenever I have my first lead, I will let you know.”

  “There is only one thing I ask,” he said.

  “
Yes?”

  “When you route everything back to that young man—and you will—I want constant updates on him.”

  “I can’t surveil him until I have sufficient evidence to prove he might be the one doing this.”

  “And when you find it and start your surveillance, I would like updates.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  “You’re free to go. Enjoy your interviews.”

  He swiveled the chair back around to look out the window as I sat there in the chair across from his desk. I grabbed my bag and walked back towards the elevator. The doors opened up just as I got there, and Micah, the elevator man, was there to greet me.

  “How was your meeting, Miss Conwell?” he asked.

  “Weird,” I said.

  “Well, at least you’re honest.”

  Sighing, I heaved my shoulders and looked back at the photo of Zach. There was something oddly familiar about him, but I had no idea what it was.

  His shaggy black hair almost covered his piercing, ocean-blue eyes, and his jaw was set in a sort of lazy determination. It was like this man was trying to fade into the background with features that stood out from a crowd.

  I just couldn’t figure out why he seemed so recognizable.

  “Could you drop me off at level six, please?”

  “Of course, Miss Conwell. Would you like me to hold the elevator for you?”

  “Not necessary. I’ve got three different people to talk to before I need the elevator again.”

  He nodded. “Well, I will be here when you need me.”

  “Thank you, Micah,” I said.

  His chuckle tugged a smile on my cheeks as the elevator came to a smooth halt.

  “Level six, Miss Conwell.”

  “You can call me Paige, if you’d like,” I said.

  “Trust me, Miss Conwell. I cannot.”

  I furrowed my brow at his sentiment as I turned to look at him. His smile was kind, and his eyes were easygoing, but there was something in his posture that seemed a little slumped. It was like everyone here was carrying some sort of burdened secret. Like they were trying to conceal something from the private investigator that had been dropped into their midst.

  But I was determined to figure out what was being hidden in this seafood conglomerate. I would uncover whatever the fuck was going on.

  Chapter 7- Zach

  “Out in the field,” Caden said, wiping sweat from his brow.

  “We’re not federal officers,” I said.

  “No shit. I mean, literally. We’re out in the field today. Fucking sawing down trees and loading them onto trucks.”

  “I know. We’ve been doing it for four hours.”

  He frowned. “I just can’t believe they stuck me out here. I’m not the beast that you are. What the hell do they expect me to do?”

  “Cushion the fall of tree limbs?” I asked.

  “So, you’re a terrible friend.”

  “Why?”

  “You didn’t tell me how things with that chick went.”

  “What chick?” I asked.

  “You know. The redhead from the bar. Don’t tell me you already forgot about her.”

  “Oh. Her.”

  “Yeah. Her. I take it she wasn’t very good.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It was okay, I guess.”

  “Which is code for, ‘she didn’t know how to suck dick.’”

  I shrugged. “More like, she was a real pain in the ass. She didn’t want to take the hint when we were done.”

  His eyes glistened with amusement. “Oh, shit. You let her sleep over, didn’t you?”

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  “What kind of fit did she throw? Was it massive? Did she break something? Oh, oh, oh. Did she try to cook you breakfast?”

  “She offered, but I told her no.”

  “Did she try to persuade you to let her stay with sex?”

  “Don’t they always?”

  “Damn, I really thought she was just in it for some fun,” he said.

  “They never are, Caden. We’ve had this talk a million times.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You think women are trying to change you from a broken bad boy into a suburban husband who dicks them well between the sheets at night.”

  “Yep.”

  “So, I take it you’re not following up with her?” he asked.

  “I can’t even remember her name, dude. So, no.”

  “You really are a hardcore son of a bitch,” he said, chuckling. “Now, are we gonna eat, or what the fuck?”

  We grabbed our food and found a shady spot to sit in. Lunch was what it was. Two sandwiches, a water, a bag of chips, and some grapes.

  Bringing my lunch meant I could turn people down when they asked me to grab lunch with them. I was here to do what was asked of me, earn a paycheck, and go the fuck home. I didn’t want to socialize with the people who reminded me of work. I didn’t want to fuck around with guys who smelled like lumber and asshole.

  And I didn’t understand why anyone else would want to.

  “You need to be careful with these chicks,” Caden said between bites of his cold hamburger. “If you aren’t, you’ll end up with a kid.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m careful when it comes to that kind of shit.”

  “Protection careful? Or pull-out careful?”

  “I’m just careful,” I said. “And you don’t need to micromanage my sex life.”

  “Just looking out for you. No offense, but you’re the last person I see with a kid.”

  “No offense taken. I don’t plan on having kids.”

  “Because you think your bloodline should die with you?” he asked.

  I shot him a death glare as he bit down into his fast-food burger.

  “How can you stand that shit?” I asked.

  “What? The greasy goodness of the Burger Hut? I don’t understand how you can’t eat it.”

  “It’s gross, that’s why.”

  “You’re the tea drinking, health food nut, you weirdo.”

  “Sorry I keep up my body better than you do,” I said.

  Caden looked past me and frowned. “There’s that damn car again.”

  I looked up and saw a beat-up, white vehicle cruising by the site. It didn’t look out of place to me, and I rolled my eyes before I took another bite of my sandwich.

  “What damn car?” I asked.

  “That white car’s been by here three times already.”

  “You counting all the white cars that come by today or something? This another business tactic of yours?”

  “Dude, I’m serious. It’s driving in the opposite direction right now, but on the right side of the car, there’s a massive dent where something’s scraped the paint off it.”

  “Imagine that,” I said. “A beat-up, white car in Brookings.”

  “Stop making fun of me and look,” he said.

  I looked up and saw the car cruising back by the site. And he was right. The car was traveling down the road, and there was a massive dent in the door. The paint was scraped off, and the hubcap was missing on the front passenger’s side wheel.

  As far as beat-up cars went, that one was pretty rough.

  “Someone’s checking out the lot,” Caden said.

  “Probably another environmentalist pissed off that we’re cutting down poison oak trees.”

  “Holy shit. These trees are poison oak?”

  Caden started hopping around, and I laughed. He was dusting himself off and scratching his neck, like the poison oak was swirling around in the air or something.

  “Dude, I’m getting itchy everywhere,” he said. “You don’t feel that?”

  “You idiot. Poison oak isn’t a tree. It’s a vine. At best, it’s a shrub.”

  Caden stopped dancing around and threw me a glare before he sat back down and continued eating.

  “You’re an idiot,” I said, laughing.

  “That wasn’t funny. You’re a dick.”

  “Ye
s, I am. Tomorrow, we’ll wake up, and that protestor stalking the site will have people picketing here. Talking about how we’re demolishing the forest and ruining animals’ homes or some shit.”

  “Wow, that’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk,” he said. “You really hate those protesters, don’t you?”

  “They’re just annoying. Bored college kids and anxious stay-at-home moms with nothing better to do.”

  “That why you don’t want kids? You don’t wanna create another anxious environmental protester?”

  I sighed as I saw everyone else returning to the field to get back to work.

  “Looks like it’s time to clock back in,” Caden said.

  “Sure does,” I said.

  The day flew by and not another thought was given to that car. We cut down trees and stacked them onto trucks, making sure to ratchet them down as tightly as we could.

  We cleared the entire field before we set a controlled burn to the leaves the trees left behind, and I was glad to not be nominated to stay behind. I was all about overtime, but this past weekend had kicked my ass. All I wanted to do was go home, tinker around on my computer, and pass out.

  “Up for going to the bar tonight?” Caden asked.

  “You know I don’t drink on work nights,” I said.

  “Whoever said you were a bad boy had that shit all wrong,” he said, chuckling. “Catch you tomorrow.”

  I shook my head as I climbed into my car, ready for my ass to get home. I was tired, I was hungry, and I was sweaty. I wanted to take a nice hot shower and feel the sweat run off my body. I wanted to order an entire fucking pizza for myself. I wanted to down an entire two-liter of soda without having to share that shit with anyone, and then I wanted to roll over and go the fuck to sleep.

  But as I left work, a familiar car pulled out behind me.

  It was that beat-up, white car that Caden had seen this morning. The one with the dent and the missing hubcap. The car tailed me off the site and right into town, and I wasn’t about to lead some environmental lunatic to my home. I drove around town and kept my eyes in my rearview mirror, watching as this car made every turn I did. I was two seconds away from pulling over, getting out of my fucking car, and giving them a piece of my damn mind.