by Linda Kage
But it was so sparkly and pretty. Who could stay away from sparkly, pretty things?
Monsters and complete fuddy-duddies, I bet, that’s who. And since I’d never considered myself either—yeah—had to check out the bling.
Just real quick.
Drawing in a deep, stunned breath, I took in the closet that led off from the side of the bathroom. The light was on inside, and oh my God.
Lord have mercy, it was full of gowns. So many glorious, beautiful gowns that my feet shuffled me into that closet before my brain could tell them not to.
“Holy shit,” I breathed in awe.
I had thought the rhinestone-coated front door had been something, but this—this was heaven on earth.
“I’m dead,” I said in a hollow voice. “I’ve died and gone to heaven, haven’t I?”
There were more dresses in here than in, like, a dress shop. Fancy, exotic, ball gown-type dresses. And they ranged in every color, every design, every princess fantasy a girl might ever dream come true. I’d had so many princess fantasies, too. When I was little, I had constantly stolen into my parents’ closet to try on my momma’s pretty black dress.
But these—these were so much more extravagant and elegant and beautiful than my mom’s one plain dress.
She’d been buried in that dress, and I’d never seen it again.
Blinking, I reached out, and my fingers literally shook as they coasted over the various materials.
“There’s just so many,” I murmured, my palm experiencing a new texture with each dress it encountered.
Pausing at a strapless tan number covered in gold sequins, I stroked the skirt part that seemed to flare out at mid-thigh and thought back to the nasty woman I’d met in the hallway. She’d been about my height and weight. We’d shared similar proportions. What were the odds that we wore the same size?
Unable to help myself, I looked for the tag. When I couldn’t find one, I pulled the dress off the rack and held it up to myself, only to release a breath.
“Of course,” I muttered.
The exact same freaking size.
She couldn’t have been a totally different dimension than me, now could she? Nooo. That would’ve made the situation all too easy for me to turn around and leave. Like I should have.
But now—now I was filled with the lure of staying and trying that pretty gold dress on.
The temptation swelled and bloated to unbelievable proportions. If I didn’t do something about it, the crazy pull in me was probably going to explode and leave a hell of a bigger mess on the floor than a minor, ol’ wine stain. And we couldn’t have that.
No, we most certainly could not.
“I’m probably going to regret this,” I announced aloud, even as I rushed to stuff the pill bottle into my bag and let the entire sack drop to the floor before I stripped off my hoodie and yoga pants.
“Seriously, what am I doing?” I asked myself, even as I shed my bra and reached for the dress again. I needed to get back home to Miguel.
But I just wanted to see what the dress looked like on me.
One minute—two tops, and I’d be in and out of it, and on my way home again, no one being the wiser that it had ever been on my body for, like, ten seconds.
“Oh damn.” I whistled in awe right before whining, “I can’t believe I’m—” Turning the dress around, I held my breath, too overcome to keep chattering nervously to myself.
My fingers trembled, making the zipper a bitch to draw down. As I gripped the cloth sides before stepping into the eye of the hurricane, a cold breeze of indecision raced down my spine. I shivered it off and slid my foot into the pooled skirt, then I pulled the material up my legs, over my hips, and around my breasts.
Holy hell, it fit like a dream. I think this damn dress had been made for me. Reaching around to my spine, I drew the zipper up, sucking in a breath as the cloth hugged me inside it.
“Wow,” I whimpered. It was perfect. Absolutely, amazingly perfect.
I skimmed my hands along myself, over my hips and across my butt to feel how everything looked, but I kind of wanted to see it with my own eyes. Frowning as I gazed around the enormous closet, I huffed when I couldn’t find a mirror anywhere. How could such a woman not be vain enough to have a full-length mirror inside her closet? Really?
I started to turn away, only to pause.
Irrationally afraid my stolen booty in the trash sack would disappear if I left it here unattended, I snatched it up, even as I left my street clothes behind so I could hurry into the bathroom to see myself in the mirror.
It only showed me from the waist up, but I paused anyway, my breath stalling in my chest. As if in a trance, I lifted my hands to my hair and wound the locks up into a quick makeshift bun. After securing my hair into place with a scrunchy I perpetually left around my wrist, I dropped my hands to my sides and stared.
With my shoulders bare and no necklace on, my neck looked rather long and incredibly elegant. I turned to the side, wanting to see more.
Growing frustrated because the mirror didn’t show my full length, I hurried from the bathroom, and when I didn’t spot a full-length mirror in the bedroom either, I darted through the doorway and down the hall to the front room where the entire wall was covered in panels of mirrors.
Reaching my destination, I slowed to a stop and let my mouth fall open as I gazed at my entire reflection.
“So cool,” I murmured, slowly twisting this way and that to take in the full picture. I let Miguel’s sack of get-wells slip from my fingers and land on the floor next to me as I smiled at the woman gazing back at me. She looked suited for this kind of life. She liked dazzling dresses and white carpets, fresh air, and bright lights.
I blew her a kiss, and then laughed at myself for my ridiculousness.
But I knew I couldn’t stay here with that smiling, carefree girl forever. I had a sick brother at home, and honestly, who knew when the rich bitch would return.
Just as I bent down to retrieve my sack, a beep, followed by a snick of sound, echoed over to me from the front door, telling me loud and clear that someone was currently unlocking it.
Oh, shit. Of course. This would only happen to me. Probably because I was the only idiot alive who’d ever finagle herself into such a crazy situation, but whatever.
I was so busted.
Gasping, I froze like a moron who knew she should run or at the very least dive behind something to hide, but couldn’t quite get the job done. Yeah, petrified-pitiful-me just stood there, stupidly, as guilt, fear, and panic seized all my limbs immobile, rendering them stiff and useless.
“Oh God,” I whimpered.
I gathered the white trash sack to my chest as the door came open. My muscles cramped, allowing blinking as the only movement I could muster. And blink I did, in utter confusion, as a man—not the woman I’d met earlier—slipped inside backward, peering out into the hallway as he came, as if he thought he was being followed and didn’t want to be caught.
Wearing a formal tuxedo, like he might be one of those high rollers I’d seen in the ballroom getting pickpocketed from Diego, he shut the door and blew out a relieved breath before turning toward me, only to jerk to a halt when he realized he wasn’t alone.
Holy cripes, he was gorgeous. With his dark hair slicked up and away from his forehead, his jaw cleanly shaven, and his eyebrows flared up into censorious arches, he looked like a slim, grim James Bond.
He seemed similarly transfixed by me, but in more of a perplexed, what-is-happening-here kind of way. His gaze skimmed up and down my dress with more confusion. I’m sure he must have recognized it as his wife’s—or whatever the evil bitch was to him. But thinking about her snagging a younger man, and one as hot as this guy, made bitterness boil inside me.
I had Diego, the lying thieving braggart, sniffing after me, and she got this?
Life really wasn’t fair sometimes.
His gaze made its way back up to my face, where he blinked and pulled back before say
ing, “What the hell?” as if he recognized me?
And that’s when the thought struck me: why in God’s name was I just standing there, doing nothing?
Run, Gabby, run!
Chapter 5
Hayden
HALF AN HOUR EARLIER
Fin Tin was alive.
Straightening my bow tie, I approached the ballroom of JFI and tried to get my mind to stop buzzing and short-circuiting around that fact.
Arthur’s lawyer wasn’t dead after all.
The private investigator I’d hired to look into him had contacted me not even an hour ago, and he’d found evidence that Randolph Finley was still breathing and very much alive, living the high life in Mexico, a filthy rich man.
Son of a bitch. If he’d faked his death, what else had he faked?
My stepfather’s last will and testament, no doubt.
Lana was behind this, I was certain of it. I just had to find proof: either the true, legitimate will Arthur had made or a trail from the payoff money Lana had given Fin Tin to make him leave town and disappear forever. No way was she an innocent party in all this. And I was going to find the evidence I needed to expose her. Tonight.
But first, I need to make an appearance at this damn office party. I would’ve rather skipped it altogether, but Nash had gone to extreme lengths to arrange it for his employees, so Lana had made an even bigger production of trying to sabotage his hard work and get the entire event canceled—because I swear she had the hots for the much younger Nash and he did not return the sentiment, so she therefore felt the need to punish him for every breath he breathed.
If I didn’t at least pop by the party, I’d show everyone at JFI that I backed Lana. And while I wanted her to think I did, over my dead body did I want everyone else to think it, too, so here I was to demonstrate to my department that I was most definitely one of the good guys and held my allegiance to the good CEO of the company.
With an annoyed sigh and my teeth gritted in irritation, I stepped into the room, only to nearly collide with my brother.
We both pulled up short, only for each of us to pause and scowl at the other’s costume.
“You knew this was a costume party, right?” Brick said dryly as he glanced at my tux. “Not the prom.”
I scowled back. “I am in costume.” Rolling my shoulders uncomfortably inside my stiff black jacket, I fiddled with my bow tie yet again. “I’m supposed to be Prince Charming.”
“No,” Brick snorted. “I’m Prince Charming.”
He’d taken his role seriously too and gone all out, spiffing himself up as Prince Charming from the Cinderella movie, with the red pants, white top and gold adornments.
But me being me, I had to scan my gaze over his costume with mild derision before I answered, “Hmm. I like mine better.”
I flickered my gaze to his date next to him, meaning to give her the same condescending look, only to pull up short in confusion. The woman was dressed as a yellow Power Ranger, concealing her face with a matching mask and everything. Huh. I would’ve thought a woman Brick chose to go anywhere with would wear something skimpier for a Halloween costume. I might’ve actually just grown a little respect for my baby brother. He’d chosen someone who didn’t feel as if she had to reveal all. That was different. Surprising. And a bit refreshing. I sent his date a polite nod before stepping past the two of them and heading toward the buffet line.
All the while, I wondered how long I should stick around and make sure I was seen before I could escape and do what I’d really come here tonight to do.
I went straight to the fruit and plucked a couple grapes before stealing a strawberry and then a watermelon ball. When I skimmed my gaze down toward the sweets, my eyes lit on the last chocolate chip cookie there. Intent to claim it as my own, I started that way, keeping my attention focused on it. I didn’t realize someone else had it in their sights as well until I reached out and my hand collided with a yellow glove.
“Oh!” a feminine voice exclaimed. Simultaneously, we pulled back. I looked up, only to groan under my breath when I found Brick’s Power Ranger standing on the other side of the table. Shit. Now I had to be a gentleman and let her have the damn cookie.
Pulling my hand back even further, I cleared my throat. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
She stood frozen a moment, staring at me, the cookie clutched in both her hands until suddenly she thrust it forward, silently offering it to me.
Not expecting that, I blinked a moment before shaking my head and waving a hand. “Oh! No, that’s okay. You had it first.”
When she insisted and continued to hold the cookie out to me, shit started growing tight and unpleasant in my chest. Dammit, this was awkward. I was too used to Lana’s world: ulterior motives, catty remarks, backward compliments, superior glances, basic selfishness. Genuinely nice, giving people always made me feel so damn uncomfortable.
And I did want the cookie, so I said, “You’re sure?”
When she nodded enthusiastically, I took the snack and bit into it slowly, closing my eyes before letting out a small moan.
God, chocolate chip was seriously the best. It reminded me of a time years ago when Arthur and Kaitlynn had first come into our lives. Eight-year-old Kaitlynn had found her mother’s cookie recipe and decided to learn how to make them. Every day, she’d try and try again but was always disappointed because she swore they were never quite like her mother’s, even though I thought every batch was pretty damn good myself.
Across the table, the Power Ranger gave a little bounce and clapped her hands up near her breastbone area, seemingly pleased that I liked the cookie.
I chuckled a little in spite of myself, even as a sneaking suspicion began to spark in my head.
I swear, I’d seen Kaitlynn do that very clap before. Crinkling my brow, I ran my gaze over her. The height and figure definitely fit hers.
“You seem nice,” I mused aloud, before frowning. “So what’re you doing here with my brother?”
She laughed—Kaitlynn’s laugh—and shrugged before twirling her finger in a circle by her ear with the sign for crazy.
I smiled and nodded. Oh yeah, this had to be Kaitlynn. She was refusing to talk so I wouldn’t hear her voice. I’m not quite sure why she didn’t want me to know it was her, maybe she was embarrassed about coming with Brick—understandable—or maybe she was testing me, seeing how I treated her when I wasn’t supposed to know it was her.
She and I weren’t exactly close. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d actually talked to each other. She probably thought I couldn’t stand her. But I had to keep up the act. If Lana thought I had any regard for Kaitlynn, she’d stop letting me in on her evil plans concerning her stepdaughter.
Brick didn’t give a damn if Lana saw him talking to Kaitlynn, and in return, Lana never told him any of the cruel things she did to Kaitlynn, which meant he’d never been able to intercept and foil any wrongdoing, as I’d managed to do a handful of times.
In return, Kaitlynn smiled openly at Brick and relaxed whenever he was around. She only went tense and timid when she saw me.
Refusing to feel guilty about that, but experiencing an echo of regret anyway, I lifted the cookie in thanks and turned away, needing to put some space between myself and the yellow Power Ranger. Thinking this was as good a time as any to start my true mission for the evening, I started toward the doors that led from the ballroom, only to be waylaid by one of my employees who was dressed as a provocative Minnie Mouse.
“Mr. Carmichael,” she said in such a respectful way that I knew she had nothing salacious in mind. I wasn’t like Brick; I didn’t diddle with anyone from work, but it was still kind of depressing that someone still considered me boring and staid enough to discuss business with at a Halloween party.
I lifted a hand, cutting her off. “Can it wait until Monday?”
“But I just wanted to make sure you received my design. I sent it—”
“I did. And we’ll discuss it Monday,
” I reiterated. “Have a good evening now.” I moved past her, rubbing at the spot at the center of my forehead.
I’d stayed long enough to be seen. It was time to complete objective number two for the evening.
As I started from the room, I unconsciously glanced around for the yellow Power Ranger. She was gone, but Brick was off flirting with Sabelle from the Belts department, which confirmed my suspicions even more that he’d brought our stepsister as his date, otherwise he’d be panting after the Power Ranger herself right now, not Sabelle.
In the hallway, I turned left.
After Arthur died, Lana had transformed the largest conference room on the first floor into her new office. Since she hated stairs and elevators, she’d abandoned the CEO office on the third floor for some prime ground-level real estate. So I only had to wander down that first hall and turn right into a darkened corridor before I came to the entrance that led into her private sanctum.
Glancing behind me to make sure no one else was about, I reached for the door handle and found it unlocked.
Perfect.
Except as soon as I pushed my way inside, I paused in the doorway when I found the light on in the outer office where Lana’s secretary, Shyla, kept her desk.
Shit. Lana wasn’t here, was she?
No. Lana would asphyxiate herself before showing her face anywhere on the property while Nash was throwing his infamous Halloween bash. That was why I’d chosen tonight to search her office. If Lana happened to find anything missing—like say her deceased husband’s true will—she’d have a hell of a time tracking down the thief. With the party in progress, the front doors were open and no one would be using their keycard to gain entrance after hours. She wouldn’t be able to check the log to see who’d gone in or out of the building.
But why was the light on in here?
Maybe Shyla was around? Or Bruno had left it on during a trash-emptying round? If I ran into either of them, I’d just say I left something on Lana’s desk; they’d believe me. Then I’d abort the mission. Until then, I was going to go as far as I could with my search.
