Dangerous Attraction Romantic Suspense Boxed Set (226 page)

Janet turned around and saw that the question had come from Georgiana Russell, the flashy blonde Janet remembered Alex introducing as his assistant. “Hi, Georgiana. No, I don’t, but I was hoping I could see him.”

“I am in charge of Mr. Kingsley’s schedule,” Georgiana replied, pouting her pink lips for emphasis. “I will check if he is available.”

Before Georgiana had a chance to attend to her task, Alex’s door opened and the man himself stood in the doorway. “Janet! What a pleasant surprise. Come in, come in.”

“Thank you, Alex.”

Alex leaned against the door, holding it open with his shoulder. “Please, have a seat,” Alex offered, motioning at the chair that stood across from his desk and closed the office door.

Janet sat down and crossed her legs, her skirt hiking up a few inches above her knee. When they had been together, Alex had often told her that he loved the shape of her legs. She might as well use every weapon in her arsenal.

“Alex,” Janet started tentatively, “I wanted to apologize for speaking out of turn during our meeting last week.” She lowered her eyelashes for added effect and then looked up at him again. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m not like that at all. You are the head of this department now, and I want to assure you that I will diligently carry out any task that you choose to delegate to me. I can’t tell you how sorry I am and how badly I feel about what happened.”

“No need to apologize, Janet,” Alex assured her, waving his hand magnanimously. “I understand completely. We are all human, and we all can be guilty of overreacting at times.”

“I am so glad that you understand.” What a pompous prick Alex had become. He was so full of himself he could not see past his own nose.

“And I am so glad that we have an understanding, Janet. I promise that you will be well-rewarded for your cooperation.”

“So, is there anything in particular you’d like me to do?” Janet asked.

“For now, I just want you to keep a real close watch on Dennis Walker. I tell you, Janet, the senior management is none too happy with the stunt he pulled during the Bostoff / Emperial investigation. He won’t get away with those kinds of antics on my watch. Not him, not anyone else for that matter. If you see anything that doesn’t look right, you let me know immediately.”

“I will, Mr. Kingsley.”

“Now, Janet, such old friends as us hardly need to bother with formalities, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Thank you, Alex.”

“Thank you, Janet. I’m so glad to know that I have a friend in you.”

“Of course, Alex. I’d better get back to work.” Janet rose from her chair and moved toward the door.

“And Janet?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s grab a drink after work one of these days.”

“Sure. I’d like that.” Janet hurried to leave before Alex would come up with a place and time.

* * *

“So, how did it go?” Dennis looked at Janet across the table. They were having lunch in a pub several blocks away from the office. Dennis had specifically chosen a table that was facing the door to survey any new arrivals.

“I think he bought it.”

“Told you so. Aren’t you glad that you listened to me?”

“I’ll be even gladder when we nail the bastard.”

“Boy, I wouldn’t want to cross you, Janet. So, what does the boss want you to do?”

“Oh, nothing other than spy on your every move and report to him immediately any suspicious activity.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have your hands full.”

“Oh, and he also mentioned that he might want to have drinks sometime.”

“Oh?” Dennis’s eyebrows rose. “Look, Janet, I wouldn’t want you to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”

“Relax, Dennis. I’m a big girl. I can handle Alex,” Janet’s voice was playful, but inside she was sizzling with delight at Dennis’s reaction. The man was definitely jealous.

“I just meant that I wouldn’t want thing to get too far out of hand.”

“They won’t. I wonder if I’m the only one Alex asked to spy on you. I wonder if he spoke with Laskin at all. Do you think we should ask him?”

“Oh, I don’t think we should. He might get overexcited. He’s great at muckraking in Excel spreadsheets, but when it comes to undercover work he can’t handle the stress. He might blab us out to Alex.”

“This is hardly undercover work, Dennis.” Janet shook her head. Male vanity never ceased to amaze her. It was not enough for Dennis to know that he was far better looking and charming that Laskin, he had to stomp on the poor chap every time he got the chance.

“Sure it is. It’s internal undercover work,” Dennis retorted.

“I just thought it might be nice to have Laskin on board, but suit yourself.”

“I’m not saying that it’s a bad idea, but I think it’s too early for that, that’s all.”

Chapter Seven

David Muller motioned to the waitress for another round of drinks. A few moments later, a pretty blonde brought two dirty martinis to the table. The service at Delmonico’s was top-notch. David was a frequent patron, and the waiters practically fell over themselves in order to please him.

“To fortuitous outcomes,” said David as he raised his drink, smiling at his lunch companion, Tom Wyman.

“Cheers.” Wyman took a long swallow of his drink. “I must admit that I thought it was going to be touch and go for a while,” Wyman added, popping an olive into his mouth.

“For a while,” David conceded, “but not for long.” Wyman deserved much of the credit for the happy outcome, but that did not give him the right to rub it in. Had Wyman not introduced David Muller to Aileen Finnegan, David would not be celebrating his exoneration, but that was where Wyman’s contribution ended. David did the rest of the work himself and would have to continue doing it for the foreseeable future. The authorities had built what seemed like a bulletproof case against David Muller and his hedge fund, Emperial; the broker David conducted his dealings through; and Bostoff Securities, along with its owner, Jonathan Bostoff. Fortunately, however, there was no such thing as bulletproof evidence—not when one was dating the daughter of New York’s attorney general. Aileen Finnegan was far from being a beauty, but her father’s political clout more than made up for her physical shortcomings.

“Aileen sure has fallen for you. But then you were always quite the ladies’ man.”

David downed the rest of his drink, refusing to dignify Wyman’s remark with an answer. Wyman had been in just as much hot water as David. The services that Wyman had performed for Jon Bostoff and Bostoff Securities were egregious enough for Wyman to lose his law license and would have cost him a huge fine and possible jail time. David had been the one to take the bullet for both of them. It just so happened that Aileen Finnegan fancied David’s British charm. Despite his last name, David Muller had little to do with Germany except for his ancestors who had left their homeland for Great Britain somewhere in late eighteen hundreds. Not that David cared: his was not a pedigree worthy of a family crest. But while his Essex accent placed him solidly in the middle-class in his homeland, to Americans he was bona fide English nobility.

“You are aware that Cornelius Finnegan is expecting you to propose marriage to his daughter, right? He already thinks of you as his son-in-law.” Wyman would not relent.

David flinched at the reminder of the hefty price he had agreed to pay for his and Wyman’s freedom.

“They hung all the blame on that dope Jon Bostoff, but the decision could easily be reversed if additional evidence were discovered,” Wyman added.

As if David needed reminding just how much additional evidence could come to light. He had devised the scheme himself, and he had hired Tom Wyman to help him execute it. Bostoff Securities was struggling financially, and Jonathan Bostoff, who had just taken over the company management after his father, was the perfect mark. Hungry for profits, he was dumb enough to go along with David’s plan. David sent stock prices plummeting while reaping ginormous profits from his scheme, but legally Bostoff was on the hook. All of David’s orders had been sent through Impala Group, a Cayman Island-based company that Wyman had registered in Bostoff’s name. The scheme seemed impenetrable until an undercover Treasury investigator managed to get Wyman drunk and steal company documents from him, exposing David’s elaborate cover-up. Cornelius Finnegan’s mighty hand had made the evidence inadmissible, but David understood that his fortune could easily change if he lost Finnegan’s protection. “I wonder what the statute of limitations is on the case …” David mused.

Wyman placed his glass on the table and stared at David. “Listen to me, David, and listen well: Cornelius Finnegan is not a man to cross. He takes his family matters close to heart. If you were to so much as harm a hair on his daughter’s head, the man would make sure that you never saw the light of day again.”

“Yeah, you’re not the one banging her, Tom.” Now that the deal had been struck, David felt that he had exchanged the threat of physical prison for a figurative one. The prospect of years of making love to a woman one abhorred seemed a sentence too wicked even for the most inventive prosecutor to assign.

“I would gladly do the honors, but she picked you. Get some Viagra for crying out loud!”

Normally, David would have been insulted by Wyman’s words, but as the image of Aileen’s fleshy thighs and udder-like breasts materialized in his mind, Viagra started to sound like a very good idea.

“Get off your high horse, David,” Wyman continued. “Let’s look at the facts: yes, you’ve made good money, but as far as the big timers are concerned, it’s small change. With Cornelius Finnegan backing you, you could play in the big leagues and no one would as much as dare lay a finger on you.”

“Fine, you’ve convinced me. Now, let’s order,” David snapped. A good steak was just what he needed to lift his spirits.

An hour later, David Muller exited Delmonico’s in a much better state of mind. He declined Wyman’s offer to split a cab under the pretext of wanting to walk off the heavy dinner.

Once he saw Wyman drive away in the cab, David signaled for another taxi. He might be required to deliver sexual pleasure to Aileen Finnegan for the foreseeable future, but that did not mean that Aileen would be the only woman receiving his attention.

David checked his watch: he was right on time. In a few minutes, Mila Brabec would be in his arms. A look of longing came over David’s face as he thought of Mila’s long, slinky legs and the way she wrapped them around his shoulders when the two of them united in all-consuming passion. Mila’s blue eyes were like deep pools of water, not tiny slits like Aileen’s, and Mila’s breasts fit gracefully into the palms of David’s hands instead of sloppily spilling over like Aileen’s. Mila’s skin was unblemished ivory, as opposed to Aileen’s never-ending freckles that were splattered over her face and her forearms, and Mila’s long hair was as dark and smooth as onyx, not at all like Aileen’s frizzy red mop. Until he had met Mila Brabec, David Muller had been proud to say that he had never really been attached to a woman. But now he knew that all those years of idle sex were meaningless. At the age of thirty-nine, he had fallen in love for the first time.

He had started seeing Mila when his scheme with Bostoff Securities had been in full swing. At the time, David’s world had seemed complete: he was rolling in dough and bound to make more of it. David bit his knuckles. Just when things seemed to be going your way, life turned the tables on you and spat you right in the face. He dreaded the thought of Aileen and the many nights and days he would have to spend with her. In a way he felt sorry for the girl: a twenty-nine-year-old virgin! The idea seemed ridiculous but in Aileen’s case it had been true. Had a different woman been involved, David might have been flattered, but with Aileen he was merely reminded of how dire his circumstances had been. Apparently, no man had considered Aileen to be a worthy conquest. Still, as much as he griped, he knew that being sentenced to Aileen was better than being sentenced to jail. He had bartered his freedom to achieve his aims before.

David’s father was a shopkeeper, but he had wanted more for his son. He made David a deal: David did not have to work in the shop after school as long as his grades were good enough for him to make it into top colleges; if he failed, he would have to work off his allowances retroactively, with interest. David did not need a greater encouragement and was accepted into Cambridge. With a Cambridge degree in hand, David had been able to secure a position in London working for a U.S. investment bank. A few years later, he had convinced his supervisor to send him on an assignment to New York.

From the moment that he had arrived in New York, he knew that he wanted to make this splendid country his home, and not just in any of its cities but the city: New York. There were none of the stuffy class distinctions of his homeland; the air felt freer, lighter, with opportunities lurking behind every corner. There was, however, just one problem: unless David found a means of obtaining legal documentation to stay in the U.S., his presence in New York would be at the mercy of his employer. He had been in his mid-twenties at the time, which was far too young for marriage, but David knew what had to be done. Girls fell all over him, but he was careful in his choice. He was not marrying for love but for a purpose.

He picked the most easygoing of the contenders for his affections: Linda Johnson was an accountant at a major accounting firm and was as bland as her name. The two of them led a fairly happy marital existence, which was helped by the fact that both worked long hours. Of course, David’s late “work” hours included activities other than work, but Linda either remained blissfully oblivious to the fact or simply did not feel the need to object. Five years later, David became a citizen of the United States. A month later he moved out of his and Linda’s apartment and filed for divorce.

He had come a long way from a hopeful wannabe to his current station in life, and he was certain that a man as enterprising as himself would not be currying Cornelius Finnegan’s favors forever. Yes, most likely he would have to marry Aileen, but that did not mean that he would have to stay married to her forever. Despite Tom Wyman’s cautionary words, David knew for a fact that no human being remained powerful indefinitely—politicians especially so.