“Phillip is squeaky clean. A pillar in journalistic circles. He gets her to do the dirty work.”
Enough documentation lay in the docier that the information should have been discovered months ago. “Why didn't any of this show up during your initial review of Brandelynn?”
“I almost didn't find it now. She's been clever with her aliases and always works for cash. Your tip of the Black Cat club is what clued me in.”
Daniel shifted through the paperwork, grateful that he’d caught another social piranha. They were all money-hungry animals, ready to prey upon him. Brandelynn and her brother hadn’t been the first ones to try to scam him, but they had gotten farther with their plot than anyone else.
“When I initially ran the report for you,” Brian said, “Brandelynn lived at the Century Heights condos.”
Daniel recognized the place. He had picked her up there for their dinner the other night and several times before, as well—while she stood outside the building. “Let me guess. She doesn't live there.”
“She rented a condo for only two months. My guess is that she suspected you’d run a search on her, and she covered her tracks to look as good as she could. She actually lives with her brother just outside the city in a trailer park.”
“Of course they do.” Daniel stared at one of the pictures. Brandelynn’s beady eyes stared back at him and he could feel the bile building within his stomach.
Brian leaned in. “One of Phillip’s aliases has allowed him to have a career as a tabloid editor. He makes decent money traveling around the country working on electronic publications, with Brandelynn following and conning rich men. My guess is that the two of them want more than just decent wages.”
No official one-percenters club existed, but Daniel knew he couldn’t let the pair attack another wealthy man. People like Brandelynn and Phillip are why the rich hire body guards and private detectives. “How do we make them both pay? I’ve never seen her brother.” He pointed at the image of the man in front of him. “This picture is too grainy and doesn’t show enough to truly identify the man.”
“I’m glad you mentioned that.” Brian took out his phone. “This was found on Brandelynn’s computer.” He pressed a button and turned the screen so Daniel could watch.
Daniel’s image was centered on the screen. “That’s Mas Raf’s restaurant. We went there for Valentine’s Day.” He glanced up at Daniel. “They recorded the dinner? Where was the camera hidden?”
“The floral center piece. Just keep watching.”
Daniel watched the video in fast motion as Brian sped up the playback. The salad and then the dinner courses were served. Again, he watched as both couples got engaged. His face in the video cringed, which surprised him since he thought he had hidden his emotions well that night.
And then the fight began. Daniel didn’t need to relive that moment. “I know we fought…”
“Here, this is what I want to show you.” Brian changed the recording to play at normal speed.
Brandelynn sat alone, her gaze following Daniel as he left the private dining room. The expression on her face was disappointment fueled by what Daniel could only call rage. He initially didn’t see her reaction because that night when he left, he didn't even glance back.
She was joined at the table by their waiter.
David paused the video. “He’s in disguise, but that’s her brother Phillip.”
Daniel’s head tilted as he leaned in and studied the man’s face. He never would have suspected the man to be in costume, but then, he wasn’t really paying attention to the wait staff that night.
“What the hell happened?” Phillip said on the recording.
“Game over.”
He sat down. “You mean with all that,” he said in a harsh tone, gesturing at her young, size–two body and D–cup boobs, “and with the other couples proposing, you couldn't force him to pop the question?”
Brandelynn looked defiant. “He told me he didn't see us ever getting married, and then he broke up with me.”
Phillip's eyes narrowed and his hands balled into fists. "He was on the line, you were reeling him in, and then you let him get away!"
"This isn't my fault! He was way too young for this scam.”
After a slight pause, Phillip eventually nodded. "We just wasted seven fucking months and the potential of a huge pay day with this damn list.”
Brandelynn’s eyes shifted downward and she didn’t look at her brother.
“Good Lord.” Phillip glanced around the restaurant and then lowered his voice. “Don’t tell me you have feelings for the old coot.”
“Of course not!”
“You better not. We need to regroup. See if we can snag him back on the line.”
Brandelynn shook her head and half-way rolled her eyes. “He claims to have another woman.”
“Impossible.”
“He says he’s engaged.”
Phillip glared at her. “Go home. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Phillip began to stand, but Brandelynn pulled him back down.
An evil grin then crossed her face. “We may still be able to play Daniel, at least for a smaller stake.” When her brother's face lit up, she added, “But promise me you'll make a big announcement in your online magazine. I'm talking really big.”
“What have you got in mind?”
“We're either going to catch Mr. Daniel Ellington in a lie or make his life and his new bride's very miserable.”
Compton stopped the recording. “That’s as good of a confection as you’ll ever hear.”
It was good, and that conversation explained so much to Daniel. “She’s a good actress. I nearly believed she had feelings for me.”
Compton pocketed his phone. “I believe she does. Her expression and the way she didn’t make eye contact with her brother…she cares for you.”
Daniel didn’t want to believe it. She was cold and calculating, nothing more.
“I left her place as is. She’ll never know I was there.” He tapped his pocket where he had placed his phone. “Or that we have this confession.”
A smile spread across Daniel's face. He hated being played, but now he had the upper hand. “Thanks, Brian.”
“I suggest you contact the authorities and,” he pointed out the closed door, “have your security on the lookout for her. If she does have feelings for you, she may approach you again. You need to be prepared to deal with her.”
It’d be nice to get them both behind bars, but Brandelynn needed to pay. He’d make sure of that. Nobody made a fool of him and got away with it.
“The other item you requested is in there, as well. I'm assuming it's for research.”
“Thanks for the work.” Daniel removed a small white envelope from his desk drawer and handed it to the man. “It's all there, and then some.”
The man accepted the payment and let himself out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Daniel sat, deep in thought. He knew he'd have to review the report from front to back to find out exactly how he could use the information. He had a friend down at police headquarters. If Brandelynn did come back, perhaps the officials could follow her and capture both her and her brother.
He reached into the envelope and pulled out the extra item. It was last month's issue of Self–Made Diva magazine.
He smiled as he read the headline, “Is your boss a tyrant?”
Daniel tossed the magazine into his desk drawer, and slammed it shut.
He was not a tyrant.
Asking an assistant for a cup of coffee didn't mean he belittled Ms. Baxter in any way.
And no personal errands? She was a personal assistant. Of course, she would run personal errands for him.
He had no time to thoroughly read an article that accused him of being an office Neanderthal. He also didn't want to pay someone to deliver the rag to him each month, especially at Brian Compton’s rate of pay.
The fine print at the bottom of the page showed him the solution. There was an app?<
br />
He grabbed his phone and downloaded it. The magazine logo soon appeared, and the ezine had the same types of articles as the paper version. But there was a little more.
He grabbed his glasses and read the name of a tab on the site. “What's trending.” He pressed the tab, and a window popped up asking him for push notifications.
And now, thanks to Scott, he knew what ‘push notifications’ meant.
Stupid technology. These gadgets changed every year. He hated how quickly everything changed, but the fluidity of the security market kept him in business. Every new app, every new gizmo, every new operating system created new potential security risks. Building an empire protecting people was the name of the game, and he played to win.
Getting the top news articles on his phone seemed like a time saver. Now he wouldn't have to waste time digging for the information in the paper magazine. Plus, he wouldn't be embarrassed by buying the stupid thing.
He squinted, looking at the information on this phone. Even swishing the screen larger, the text was tiny. He'd have to install it on his tablet.
He picked up his tablet, only to find it inoperable thanks to some coffee that had spilled on it this morning.
Goddamit.
He had loaded the merger paperwork on it and needed to review the details. The tablet was frozen and none of the buttons he pushed helped, not even the reset one.
He needed help, and the only person he could think of sat just outside his office—the one who’d spilled the coffee in the first place. He pressed a button on his desk phone and called her, only halfway grateful when she appeared in his doorway to offer help.
If the report hadn’t been uploaded to the broken tablet, he would have just ordered a new iPad from supply. “Do you know anything about fixing broken tablets?”
Ms. Ortiz walked behind Daniel's desk and picked up the device. She then took it over to the window, leaned against the broad sill, and allowed her skirt to ride up—giving him a good view of her upper thighs.
The sun silhouetted her through the sheer blouse she wore, and he suspected the outfit selection was not by accident.
He didn't, and would never, date a woman from work—not that he was tempted by Ms. Ortiz; just upset that she thought her obvious ploys would work.
Did she think he'd throw her onto his desk, pull up her skirt, and pound into her?
Lawsuits galore. No, thank you.
The rumors of his uncle, Carl Weston, were legendary. The company had nearly shut down its doors due to lawsuits early on because of the man's lewd behavior. The man chased, and caught, many secretaries in his day.
Ms. Ortiz now held up the tablet did an Etch–A–Sketch shake to it. The silly maneuver almost had him laugh out loud.
“You have a digitizer problem, causing the LCD to fail.” She blew air on the top of the display.
Maybe he was just cursed.
She fanned herself with the tablet as if the room suddenly became warmer. “The display keeps trying to turn on.” One hand unbuttoned the top button on her blouse as she complained about the temperature of the room.
He didn’t find the office all that warm, and, wasn't this the start of a porno movie?
“This model freezes sometimes. You just need to hit these two buttons together.” She messed with the machine. “There!” She smiled as she walked back to him, placed her hand on his shoulder, and gave him the now rebooting device.
He let out the breath he didn't know he’d been holding. He needed this document for his next meeting, and he was impressed that Goldilocks had managed to get anything done.
She moved closer to him. “It'll come up soon,” she whispered into his ear.
“Ms. Ortiz…”
“Call me Suzy, Daniel.”
His skin crawled.
“My name is Mr. Ellington.” His face hardened and he walked back to his chair and sat. “Ms. Ortiz, I have a meeting with Mr. Solomon and Mr. D'Eith this afternoon.”
“Is that how you say their names?” she asked through fits of laughter, her hand covering her mouth. “I called them solo–man and death when they got here.”
Daniel's gaze darted to her. “They're here?”
“They arrived a while ago. They're sitting in my office.”
He looked at his watch. The two men were early, and the temp had not only kept them waiting, she probably hadn’t offered them a beverage either. Not that her coffee was anything to brag about.
He crossed the room to the wooden valet to get his jacket. “Please, let them in.”
“Okay. Is there anything else you want me to do while you're in the meeting?”
His schedule was a mess, his office in disarray, and he had already caught her flirting with the CTO of the company during their morning appointment. It seemed that any rich man caught her attention.
Her fingers twirled a lock of her hair. “Just name it. I can do many things.”
The thought of handing her the temporary agency's business card and asking for her to call in a replacement crossed his mind. But she'd probably mess that up, too. Besides, he wanted the satisfaction of letting the woman go. “Just let the gentlemen in, and close the door behind you on your way out.”
.
15
The work day was finally behind him, and Daniel just wanted to leave the office, go home, and relax. But since the temp had already left, he had to stay and check his schedule. Find out what his morning would be like, who he was meeting with, and what needed to be done. Goldilocks had left early and said she'd be in a little late tomorrow morning. Without her personal contact information, he would have no way of contacting her if needed.
Was this the work ethic these days? Or, was she just the worst of the lot? Deborah's son had interned here for the last couple of years, and he’d never behaved like this temp secretary.
Just as he was about to open his calendar app, his phone chirped and he read the notice. ‘Dinner with Ms. Baxter’. Dining reservations were something that Deborah would have mentioned to him as he prepared to leave for the day. She'd then stay and tidy up the place.
At least she had placed their fake dates on his calendar for reminders before leaving for the hotel.
Deborah always thought of everything, and always went that extra mile. She made his life easier.
God, he missed her.
He missed how she handled the office, handled the big brass, and handled…him. She always knew what to say and do to make the workplace more enjoyable.
The office lights were still on, and he assumed the phone service was not switched to nighttime mode. With director heads all across the world—since this was a global economy—those phones needed to be on so he could be contacted in case of an emergency.
How did he even turn them on?
Dirty glasses and coffee cups still rested on the bar. How long did Deborah usually stay in the evenings?
Paperwork spilled from his messy desk. Most likely, that was one more thing she took care of.
He grabbed the documents and neatly stacked them, making sure to lock anything in his desk drawer that was marked “Confidential.”
The pretend engagement contract still lay on his desk. He couldn't file it with any of his company's paperwork, so he placed it in the wall safe where it would be secure. Scott had anticipated everything with that document, and his wife, Caroline, seemed eager to help out.
Such great friends.
Daniel's brow furrowed. Hadn’t Scott said his baby was due in a few weeks? He was unsure if Deborah had already bought a gift for the baby… but that seemed so impersonal. On his way home tonight, he'd have to stop off at a baby store and get the couple something nice. Something hand–selected and bought by him felt more personal than having his assistant pick it out, or just clicking a few buttons and ordering something over the Internet.
Deborah had other things on her mind right now. She didn’t need to be running his personal errands right now.
He asked his phone for the in
formation to a nearby baby store. He had a rental car; he could handle this.
Loneliness overtook him as he walked past her empty desk. Paperwork lay all over it, including the inner-office mail and documents marked confidential.
The reminder on his phone buzzed again.
Shit.
He stuffed all the important documents into a desk drawer. There had better be nothing critical for him to look at tonight.
Deborah sat at the hotel bar feeling stupid, silly, and sexy. A dressed-up doll that remained on a shelf that no one touched.
The borrowed gown fit too tightly across the chest, which showed a bit too much cleavage, but overall, gave her a princess going to a ball feeling.
Her fingers glided over the beaded silk, admiring the delicately detailed work. It was wedding dress quality, except for it being a beautiful shade of green, not white. She suspected the matching necklace and earrings held real emeralds.
She touched the dangling gemstones to make sure they were still there. The chain lay heavily around her neck, but the earrings she wore felt light. Since the set had probably cost as much as one of her paychecks, she repeatedly checked that they still hung from her ears.
She felt uneasy with all the makeup she wore, and her new hairstyle felt too short. She nearly hadn’t recognized herself in the mirror.
The stole, which she assumed was mink, lay across her shoulders. Some women loved the look and feel of fur, but it had never been of interest to her. She loved animals too much to wear them. Caroline had sworn that it was a good fake and hadn’t brought any other jacket to match the gown, and Deborah needed something warm to wear—even if she questioned its man-made and synthetic quality.
Heaven knew her gown’s bodice would leave her chest exposed to the outside elements. She needed something warmer to wear. Sexy dresses were one thing, but common sense and a good quality coat were more appropriate.
Deborah took money from her green, beaded purse—enough for the Sprite and a generous tip—and placed it on the table. She then sipped her drink and kept an eye on the hotel's lobby. Mr. Ellington… Daniel…
Bachelor Heart Page 11
