Daniel's office door slammed open, jarring him from his concentration on the upcoming conference in Los Angeles.
Brian Compton stood in the doorway, his ego blocking most of the threshold.
Finally. Daniel had been waiting for a visit from Mr. Compton for days. He closed the file he was reading and put his computer in sleep mode to prevent any information from being seen. He trusted Mr. Compton, but only to a certain point.
“You can’t just barge in…” a shrilly voice sounded from the other room. A second later, the temp secretary, Ms. Ortiz, stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the man.
“He just barged in here.” Her expression of a second grader tattling on a classmate fit her personality and grated against Daniel’s nerves.
She stood her ground and puffed up her chest, allowing her see–through top to gape and show even more cleavage.
“Daniel...”
“Mr. Ellington,” Daniel said, correcting her once more with a sterner tone. The girl was maybe twenty, and he suspected had never worked before. When he had asked for a mature, competent woman, the agency must have heard young and horny.
“Mr. Ellington, this man”—her eyes narrowed and shifted toward the intruder—“demands to talk to you and says it's a private matter.”
Mr. Compton’s eyebrow rose and he gave Daniel an all-knowing look, like he knew Daniel would drop everything and talk to him.
Bold and obnoxious. Those were the words Daniel would use to describe his personal private eye. Over the years, hiring the man had come in handy. Not even Ms. Baxter knew what he did.
“He doesn't have an appointment.” The assistant’s voice was laced with an undertone of a whine.
“See that we're not disturbed.” Daniel crossed the room and gave the man a hearty handshake. He then closed the door, even while his secretary muttered something under her breath.
“Have a seat.” Daniel gestured to the guest chair in front of his desk as he walked and returned to his own.
Brian pulled a large brown envelope from his satchel. “The new gal is quite young, but a looker,” he said, nodding his head back to the outer office.
In an all–business voice, Daniel said, “You have information for me.” Daniel found it best not to be chatty with someone whose services cost three hundred dollars an hour.
Brian tossed the envelope on the desk. “Brandelynn Myers is a crafty one.”
Daniel opened the envelope and took out the report. Her initial inspection months ago had pulled up nothing, but the expression on Brian's face told Daniel that, this time, something had turned up. “You discovered more since your first search seven months ago?”
Brian pointed to the paperwork and sneered. “Brandelynn Myers is her real name, but she has several aliases. A new one, Brandi Orson, works at the Black Cat Gentlemen's Club. She's been working there for quite some time.”
He had been played.
Acid rose in his throat and he needed an antacid.
Deep down he had always known something wasn’t quite right about Brandelynn. The feeling had lurked in his mind but he had been too blindsided by her body to take heed.
He scanned the document, first looking at the pictures. The eight–by–ten glossy images of her half naked and twirling on a pole and doing lap dances were enough to sicken him. Even with the jet–black wig she wore, he easily recognized Brandelynn. That body. Those curves. It was definitely her. “Working at a nightclub under an alias isn't a crime.”
“No, but swindling wealthy men out of their fortunes is.”
Daniel’s jaw clenched and his anger grew, but this was why he paid so much for Brian’s services.
“What do you mean?”
Brian leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “She and her brother, Phillip Myers, are con artists. They settle in, find the richest man around, and take them for all they've got. That file has police records and warrants in Nebraska for her arrest. Their last scam almost landed her in jail.”
“What about him?” Daniel held up a picture of Phillip. The image just had a hint of a side profile, not much to really go on.
“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?
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.”
.