Elementary, My Dear Watkins (5 page)

“From the moment we met,” he continued, “our entire relationship was…engineered.”

“Engineered?”

“I don’t know any other way to tell you this: I was
paid
. I was paid to make you fall in love with me.”

“What?”

“Jo, I was paid to marry you.”

“This makes no sense,” Danny said finally, shaking his head. He wasn’t worth $175,000 to anyone yet. He was good, but not that good, especially in a studio. “I’m sorry, but my field of study, my focus, my
art
is in nature.”

“So pose the perfume bottles around a waterfall or something,” Luc quipped, and Chester laughed, nodding.

“You’re an outstanding photographer,” the older man said, “and we want the artistic perspective you bring to the table. If that includes getting out of the studio and into nature, we might be able to make that happen. I know talent when I see it, son, and I see it in you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Danny replied humbly, his mind spinning.

“And don’t forget,” Chester added, “you’d be working with some of the most beautiful models in the world.”

Danny studied the man in front of him, fully aware of the most obvious question:
Why me?
Most of his photos hadn’t received enough exposure yet to merit this kind of attention—and the few that had were all landscape shots, not fashion spreads.

Something seemed fishy about the whole deal, and he didn’t just mean the crabmeat in the appetizers.

“Have you seen the models in
Haute Couture
, Danny?” Chester continued, lowering his voice and winking. “A good-looking fellow like you could find plenty of, uh, side benefits in that situation, if you know what I mean.”

Chester and Luc both chuckled, but Danny wasn’t smiling.

“Sorry,” Danny replied, “but I have a little trouble thinking of beautiful women as being mere ‘side benefits.’ They’re people, not perks.”

Chester and Luc laughed in surprise.

“I forget to tell you,
monsieur
,” Luc said to Chester, “that our Danny is a man of morals.”

“Morals, eh?” Chester asked, eyeing Danny with a bemused expression. “Now there’s something you don’t see every day.”

“Not to mention he already has a girlfriend, soon to be a fiancé, I think. The models would not tempt him,
pas de tout
.”

“Yeah, I’m going to take a pass on the job,” Danny said, setting his napkin on the table, trying to keep the interview off the personal level, “but thank you very much for the offer.”

Chester’s expression didn’t change. He merely tapped his smelly cigar against the ashtray and then seemed to try a different approach.

“A girlfriend,” he said. “Is she here in Paris with you?”

Danny shook his head slightly.

“She’s back home. In Pennsylvania.”

“And you’re from…what’s it called? Mulberry Bush?”

“Mulberry Glen, just south of Moore City.”

“Moore City? Why, that’s just a few hours from New York. If you scheduled your shootings efficiently, you could practically commute.”

For a flicker of an instant, Danny was tempted: great salary, close to Jo, working as a photographer for one of the most prestigious magazines in the world…

But it wasn’t his dream, not even close. Why should he have sacrificed so much to come this far, only to compromise in the end?

He took a deep breath and searched for the words that would convince this man that he should look elsewhere.

“Sir, I am flattered by your persistence, and believe me, your offer is more than generous. But I’m not a fashion photographer; I’m a nature photographer. My ultimate goal is to use the knowledge and experience and connections I’m gaining here in Paris and parlay them into a full-time career back home in Pennsylvania as a contract photographer for one of the major nature photography markets. No offense, but I have zero interest in living in New York City and working for
Haute Couture
magazine.”

“Zero?” the man asked skeptically, still looking as if he weren’t getting the point. Danny had a feeling that offers like this weren’t made every day—much less rejected, particularly by a nobody like him.

“Yes,” Danny said, his mind’s eye seeing $175,000 slipping through his fingers. “Less than zero.”

“It’s true,” Bradford said to Jo earnestly. “Before we ever met, I was given lists, long lists, of everything about you. Favorite food, favorite movies, favorite pastimes. I memorized them and pretended they were my favorites, too. Didn’t it ever occur to you how strange it was that we had so very much in common? Practically from the night we met, we seemed like soulmates.”

Jo looked down at her neatly manicured nails, remembering that night. She’d been visiting with her parents in the city, and they had all but forced her to go on a blind date with a young man who worked at the family company.

“You’ll just
love
Bradford,” Jo’s mother had gushed. “He’s simply perfect for you.”

Jo had agreed to the date only to get her mother off her back, but after spending the evening with Bradford, Jo had been shocked to find that what her mother had said was true. Bradford was handsome, smart, funny, sensitive—and they had so much in common. By the end of the evening, they were already making plans to get together the next day. Within two months, they were engaged.

“So what you’re telling me,” Jo said, “is that the Bradford I thought I knew doesn’t exist?”

He shrugged.

“You knew me, Jo,” he said. “For the most part. You knew my personality and how we got along. You just weren’t clear on certain things about my life or my preferences. Or my plans for the future.”

“And what are those plans?”

“I was paid all through the engagement, but our wedding was supposed to guarantee me one huge final financial payoff, plus a Fifth Avenue condo, a big promotion at work, and a raise. I would also be put on the fast track toward the ultimate position of CEO of Bosworth Industries, stepping into your father’s shoes upon his retirement, if I proved myself worthy between now and then.”

“And history would repeat itself,” Jo said quietly to herself. “Just as my father married into my mother’s family business and eventually took over from my grandfather, you would do the same through me.”

“It worked out well for your parents and the company, didn’t it?”

“That’s only because my father is brilliant at business. And he worked his way up legitimately—unless you’re telling me that someone paid my father to marry my mother too.”

“No, not that I know of,” Bradford replied, shaking his head. “Just that the dynamic would be the same, yet again a son-in-law working his way up to the helm. It seemed perfect to everyone involved. They really want to keep things in the family.”

“So who is ‘everyone involved’? And why did they do this? Did my grandmother pay you to marry me?”

“Your grandmother? No, I don’t believe she knows anything about it.”

“Who, then? My father? My mother? The company? Was this just about locking in a good CEO through marriage?”

“No, of course not. It’s so much more complicated than that. The fact that our marriage would keep the business in the family was simply a nice side benefit. The fact is, they needed you to marry someone,
anyone
. They just liked the choice of me because they knew I could make it happen fast—”

“Boy, did you ever.”

“—and they knew I was a nice guy, great at business, and loyal to Bosworth Industries. I was the perfect choice.”

“Especially because you were just amoral enough to do what they wanted.”

Bradford’s eyes were pleading as he gazed at her.

“Jo, you have no idea the amounts of money they were throwing my way. Anyone could’ve been swayed.”

Not me. Not Danny
.

“Again, who paid you to marry me, Bradford? Who was behind this? And why were they in such a hurry? What difference does it make to anyone if I’m married or not?”

Bradford opened his mouth to speak, but then his head jerked up, turning toward some movement Jo had also spotted from the corner of her eye. She glanced in that direction as well but didn’t see anything unusual.

“We can’t stay here,” Bradford whispered. “Is there somewhere we could go?”

Jo felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Why?”

“Because you’re in danger. Please. It’s too public. It’s not safe for you.”

Here was someone else telling her she was in danger! Was Bradford the one who sent the e-mail? Or was he the danger the e-mail had been talking about?

“Do you know anyone in Kreston?” Jo asked suspiciously.

“Kreston, out in the Bronx? What are you talking about? We’ve got to get you out of here, to somewhere close by. Quickly.”

Bradford’s eyes met hers, and she could see the panic and urgency there. His expression seemed sincere. Of course, he’d just admitted to her that their entire relationship had been a lie, so how was she to know if this was also an act or not? Maybe he was crazy, off the deep end. Or maybe he thought if he cooked up some sort of over-the-top drama, she would fall into his arms for protection and love—and they could ride off into the sunset together and live happily ever after.

“Why am I in danger?” Jo insisted. “I’m not moving from this spot until you give me an explanation.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, put both hands on her shoulders, and leaned forward until she could feel his lips at her ear.

“According to my sources,” he whispered sharply, “there’s something big going on at your family’s company. Rumor has it that you’re going to be…eliminated.”

“Eliminated?” Jo scoffed. “Like, fired from Bosworth Industries? How can they fire me? I don’t even work there.”

“No,
eliminated
, Jo. Like…killed.”

Jo felt dizzy, her view of the elegant surroundings suddenly dimming around the edges. Truly, Bradford had gone insane.

“What do you mean?” she asked, an incredulous laugh escaping her lips. “Why?”

“It’s not funny, Jo. Your life is in jeopardy. That’s all I can say right now. Let’s go somewhere safe and private, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Bradford gripped Jo’s upper arm and practically dragged her to a standing position. With her bad foot, she nearly fell back down, but his hold was strong. Suddenly, the situation had gone from absurd to frightening.

“I’m going to get us a room in the hotel,” he said intensely, glancing toward the eighth floor check-in area. “I think that’s the best option we have right now. I know you think I’m crazy or I’m kidding, but I’m not. Trust me on this, Jo.”

Trust me?
The man who supposedly took money to marry her, courted her under false pretenses, and walked out of their wedding was asking her to trust him? Jo blinked, clearing her vision and clearing her mind. At this point she didn’t trust anyone—least of all him.

“No hotel room,” she said sternly, pulling her arm free from his grip.

He seemed surprised by her reaction, and then understanding crossed his features.

“I won’t try anything, Jo, I promise. You know I’m a gentleman. Thanks to your stupid Christian rules, I controlled myself for six months while dating you. I think I can handle sitting across from you in a private room for a few hours. I just want to talk. Considering the information I have, I would think you’d want to hear what I have to say.”

Your stupid Christian rules?
So even his faith had been a sham, yet one more way he had pretended to be someone he was not, all for the sake of getting her to the altar. She felt like such an idiot. Danny had said all along that he didn’t think Bradford was sincere in his faith, and that if Jo married him they would be unevenly yoked. To say the least! If only she had listened to Danny from the beginning. How had she been so blind?

“Please, Jo. Come on.”

“Fine,” she said finally, gathering her things. “Get us a room. I’ll meet you at the elevators.”

“I think we should stay together.”

“I have to go to the ladies’ room,” she said sharply, pointing across the bustling lobby to the restroom doorway. “Unless you want to come in there with me, I’ll meet you at the elevators.”

“Can’t you wait until you get to the room?”

“No, I can’t. The line at check-in is way too long.”