The Con Artist: (Formally Published as Playing The Millionaire)

by Lynn, Sandi

  Chapter 34

  Kate

  I spent a week watching Marcel. I followed him to a diner in Harlem one afternoon. He walked in and took a seat, and I made sure I sat at a table behind him. He looked at me but didn’t give a second look. I wasn’t his type, for I was dressed in ripped jeans, an oversized sweatshirt, a pair of dirty tennis shoes, and I had on my short platinum wig with a pair of brown contacts in my eyes and a makeup-less face. I would admit that I wouldn’t even give me a second look. I found it odd he would choose this hole-in-the-wall diner in Harlem. It wasn’t his style. He kept looking at the door as if he was waiting to meet someone. Holding the menu up, covering my face, I peered over it when the bell over the diner door chimed and a man dressed in a navy-blue business suit walked in and took the seat across from him. A man whom I’d seen before. Thaddeus Wilson.

  “You’re late, Thaddeus,” Marcel spoke as he looked at his watch.

  “Sorry, but I was in a meeting that took longer than expected.”

  “What’s with this secret lunch? I told you that I would be in contact with you once things were squared away,” Marcel spoke.

  “And it seems to be taking longer than expected. I gave you what you asked for six months ago, Marcel.”

  “I know, and I’m grateful. Patience, my friend. My lawyer is drawing up the paperwork as we speak. It should only be a matter of time.”

  “I hope so. I want to get to Paris as soon as possible.”

  “If we’re done here,” Marcel spoke, “I need to get going. I’m hosting a cocktail party at The Plaza Hotel at seven o’clock.”

  “We’re done,” Thaddeus spoke.

  As Marcel walked out, Thaddeus ordered a cup of coffee and a slice of cherry pie. Paris? What did Marcel offer him in exchange for information? I needed to find out and I would put my plan into motion tonight at The Plaza. I sat there, my hands wrapped around the white coffee cup, staring at Thaddeus. His eyes diverted to me and then quickly looked away. I made him uncomfortable. I could tell. He shifted in his seat as he looked at me again. He didn’t like that the unattractive girl was staring at him. He reached inside his suitcoat, pulled out his wallet, and removed what looked like a business card from it. Placing his wallet back in his pocket, he picked up his phone and made a phone call. I looked over at my oversized black hobo-style purse and then back at him. The waitress walked over and placed his coffee and cherry pie down in front of him. After ending his call, he picked up his fork. I summoned the waitress for the bill and left some cash on the table. Picking up my purse and throwing it over my shoulder, I got up from my seat and intentionally dropped my phone by his table. I knew he wouldn’t be a gentleman and pick it up for me since I was an eyesore to him. After dropping it on the floor, I bent down and my bag swung across his table, knocking his coffee cup over.

  “What the fuck!” he exclaimed as he pushed himself and his chair back.

  “Oh my god! I am so sorry,” I spoke as I looked up at him.

  “You damn klutz!” he shouted.

  The waitress hurried over with a towel as I got up and grabbed a shitload of napkins that were sitting on the table.

  “Oh no. Your suit,” I spoke as I patted his suitcoat with the napkins.

  He grabbed them from my hand.

  “Just go!” he shouted.

  I pulled my wallet from my purse and threw down a hundred-dollar bill.

  “This should cover your dry-cleaning bill as well as your coffee and pie. Accidents happen, sir, and you don’t have to be so rude.”

  He looked at the hundred on the table and then up at me.

  “I hope you have a better day.” I walked away.

  Once I hit the pavement and walked down the street, I reached into my purse and pulled out his black leather Bottega Veneta two-fold wallet with a smile on my face. He was one man I didn’t feel guilty ripping off. Checking out how much cash he had, I counted six hundred fifty dollars. Before heading back to my apartment, I stopped at the salon and got a mani/pedi and a spray tan, compliments of Thaddeus Wilson.

  When I got home, I pulled a black suitcase from the hall closet, took it to my room, and placed it on my bed. Opening it, I looked at all the face pieces I had used over the years. Different noses, teeth, lips, and colored contacts. Walking over to my closet, I reached up and took down my long wavy brunette-colored wig with the subtle blonde highlights. After showering, I put on my face, popped the emerald-green-colored contacts into my eyes, and carefully pulled on my wig. I slipped into a black, off-the-shoulder, midi-length, form-fitted dress. It was very plain, but elegant. Especially after I dressed it up with jewelry and black stiletto heels. When I purchased the dress, it was labeled as “Lady Luck,” and luck was what I needed tonight. As I stood in the full-length mirror, I didn’t even recognize me. My nose was different, and my lips were fuller.

  When I reached The Plaza, I wasn’t sure in which restaurant Marcel would be hosting his cocktail party. If I had to guess, and knowing him, it would be at the Palm Court. I was right, because when I walked in, I saw him walking from table to table, mingling with guests. Luckily, there were a few seats still open at the round bar. Taking my seat, I asked the bartender for a cosmopolitan. I sat there for over an hour, watching him as he stole small glances my way. I had his attention and saw him start to walk my way.

  “Are you here alone?” he asked with a smile as he walked over to me.

  “I was supposed to be on a date, but I guess I got stood up,” I replied with a French accent.

  “You’re French?” he asked with a hint of excitement.

  “Oui.” I smiled. “And so are you.”

  “Why on earth would anyone stand up a beautiful woman like yourself? His loss is my gain. May I?” His hand gestured to the stool next to me.

  “You may.” I smiled as I traced the rim of my glass.

  Instantly, we hit it off. Or should I say, he did. We talked about France and I fabricated this story about how I was born in Marseille and my parents and I moved to the United States when I was eight. He asked what I did for a living. I told him I was a freelance artist and worked from home. He seemed impressed. I mentioned that I wanted to start an online business. He told me he could help. I picked his brain for ideas, made him feel special. We talked about his company. I sat and listened, never breaking our eye contact. He was hooked.

  I looked at my watch. It was getting late. He ditched his cocktail party and spent the rest of the evening talking to me.

  “I better get going. It’s getting late.” I smiled.

  “I understand, but I’m afraid I can’t let you leave without getting your phone number first.”

  “Hand me your phone.” A smirk crossed my lips as I held out my hand.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket, handed it to me, and I put in my new number.

  “There. Now you have my number. I will be expecting a call or text from you very soon.” I grinned.

  “Believe me, Camille, you will be hearing from me.”

  “Thank you for a wonderful evening and making me forget that I was stood up.”

  “It was my pleasure. Can I take you home?”

  I placed my hand on his chest.

  “Thank you, but I can get home just fine. Have a good night, Marcel.”

  “You too.”

  I let out a deep breath as a smile crossed my lips and I left The Plaza.

  When I arrived home, I kicked off my shoes, went into the bathroom to take off my disguise, and climbed into bed. As I lay there, thoughts of Gabriel washed over me. The hurt and the pain I tried to bury crept up inside me. I had spent my entire life feeling lonely, but this was the loneliest I’d ever felt. As I closed my eyes, my phone dinged. I reached over and took it from my nightstand and saw there was a text message from Marcel.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you and would love to take you to dinner tomorrow evening.”

  “I would love to have dinner with you.”

  “Excellent. I can pick you up aro
und seven o’clock.”

  “Name the restaurant and I’ll meet you there. I have a meeting with a client at six, but it won’t take long.”

  “Very well. I’ll text you the place and the address tomorrow. Good night, Camille.”

  “Good night, Marcel.”

  Now I had to figure out a way to get out of sleeping with him, because a man like him wasn’t going to be patient very long. I needed to find out the information I was looking for quickly. My time limit was one week. The faster I got this done, the sooner I could move.

  The next morning, I went out, bought a label gun, and made a new label with the name “Chamberlin” on it to replace my name under my apartment number outside the doors of the building. There was no use lying to Marcel about where I lived because once all was said and done, I’d be gone anyway.

  * * *

  Five Days Later

  Things with Marcel were hitting an all-time high. He was in love with me and sent me a bouquet of fresh roses every day since the night we met. We spent every evening together. Going on walks through Central Park, having dinner at the finest restaurants, and having drinks back at his penthouse while we played chess. My period. That was my excuse for not jumping into bed with him. The first couple of dates, I explained that I wasn’t that kind of girl and I needed to truly know someone before I slept with them. He understood and respected me for it. Date three, I played it out as if I was ready. I even made the first move. As we were making out and I was trying not to gag, I excused myself to the restroom and, when I came out, I told him that I had just started my period. I explained that it came out of nowhere and how bad it was, and I needed to go home. He was disappointed, but I promised to make it up to him. Date four was spent at my place, having dinner in and talking for hours. I knew more than I wanted to about him. I didn’t care. He repulsed me as much as I repulsed myself because what he did wasn’t any different from all the things I had done. This was my chance to make things right in my life. To sort of make up for all the bad things I had done to the men I conned. To make things right for Gabriel. Even though the two of us could never be what we once were, I couldn’t stand by and let Marcel rip him off. In the end, doing this was the right thing for both of us.

  Chapter 35

  Kate

  Date five. The Friends of New Yorkers for Children Annual Ball, which was held at the Mandarin Oriental. The same hotel where Gabriel first saw me after we parted ways at JFK. I put on my face and my wig and slipped into a Roland Mouret strapless two-tone peplum evening gown in cream and black. The gown was gorgeous with its double-face silk satin, asymmetric neckline, fitted bodice, and peplum waist. Compliments of Mr. Thaddeus Wilson and the one credit card he forgot to cancel.

  “You look absolutely stunning.” Marcel smiled and kissed my cheek.

  “Thank you. So do you.” I flashed my sexy smile.

  He took hold of my hand, led me to his limo, and it was off to the ball we went. The Mandarin was filled with socialites. We mingled amongst the wealthy and Marcel introduced me as his girlfriend. Shit was getting real and I needed to move fast. We headed to the bar after having a glass of champagne upon walking through the doors and Marcel ordered me a cosmopolitan. As I waited for my drink, I looked around the room and my eyes locked with Gabriel’s. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I didn’t expect to see him here. My heart started racing and, suddenly, I became nervous. I needed to hold my composure, for I couldn’t risk him finding out it was me. Shit. He’d know. As long as I didn’t smile, I’d be okay. I thought. He walked away from the bar. I let out the deep breath I was holding. Marcel turned around and handed me my drink.

  “One cosmopolitan for the most beautiful woman in the room.” He smiled.

  “Thank you.”

  He held out his arm and I placed mine around it as we walked to our table and took a seat. As I sipped my cosmopolitan, Gabriel sat down across from us.

  “Looks like we’re table mates,” he spoke to Marcel.

  “Ah, very good. Gabriel, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Camille Chamberlin. Camille, this is a friend of mine, Gabriel Quinn. He’s the CEO of Quinn Hotels.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. I could do this.

  “Nice to meet you, Gabriel,” I spoke without a smile in my French accent as I extended my hand.

  Placing his hand in mine, he looked down and then back up at me. His eyes told me he felt something.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Camille.” He brought my hand up to his lips.

  Jerk. Does he always kiss the hand of a female he meets for the first time?

  I pulled my hand away and set it on my lap. The sensation that ripped through my body as his lips touched me was too much. All the while he and Marcel talked, he kept looking at me. He was alone, which made me happy because I didn’t think I could bear seeing him with another woman. He turned his attention to me and began asking me all sorts of questions. Fuck. He was suspicious. I could see it in his eyes.

  * * *

  Gabriel

  Marcel’s girlfriend was beautiful. Too beautiful for the likes of him. Something about her wasn’t sitting right with me. I couldn’t put my finger on it. A jolt of lightning soared through me the moment I touched her hand. Just like—I began to ask her questions, hoping she’d slip up somehow and I’d know for sure. Thaddeus walked over and took the seat next to mine. Marcel introduced Camille to him. I waited for her to smile. She wouldn’t because she knew if she did, I would know for sure it was her. Fuck. I felt it. There was definitely a strong connection when I touched her. I swallowed hard at the thought. There had only been one woman in my life I felt that connection with and it was with Kate. I kept an eye on her during dinner, and every time she looked at me, she quickly looked away. Music started to play; a variety of jazz and blues. The dance floor opened, and Marcel took Camille by the hand and escorted her to the middle of the ballroom. I leaned back in my chair and watched them while I sipped on my drink.

  “Damn. Marcel’s girlfriend is fucking hot,” Thaddeus spoke.

  “She certainly is beautiful.”

  “Beautiful and French. What more could a man ask for.” He smirked.

  It was the middle of the song, so I finished off my drink and headed to the dance floor.

  “May I cut in?” I asked Marcel.

  “Of course.” He nodded.

  I wrapped one arm around her waist and held her other hand in mine. She stared over my shoulder.

  “You’re a very beautiful woman, Camille.”

  “Thank you,” she spoke.

  “Too beautiful for the likes of Marcel.”

  A small smile crossed her plump lips but quickly disappeared once she realized what she had done. It was Kate. My grip around her waist tightened as I pulled her closer to me.

  “What the hell are you doing, Kate?” I whispered in a stern voice.

  Not a word escaped her mouth.

  “I asked you a question. Do you want me to cause a scene? Because I fucking will, and then when Marcel comes to your rescue, I’ll flatten his scrawny ass right here in front of everyone.”

  “Really, Gabriel?” she whispered in her normal voice. “Two respectable CEOs going at it in the middle of a fundraiser for children. The press would have a field day.”

  “I’ll ask you one last time. What are you doing with him? Was this your plan all along? Were the two of you in cahoots before we even met?”

  “Oh my god, no!” she voiced loudly.

  “Shh. Keep it down. Do you want to draw attention to us?”

  “Leave me alone, Gabriel. I have a job to do.”

  “A job? What are you ripping off from him? Oh, wait. That would be my ideas and plans for the hotel.”

  Tears started to form in her eyes.

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Am I, Kate? Because I don’t think I am.” The song ended and I let go of her. “I wish I’d never met you. You are nothing but a vile human being.” I shook my head as I walked away.

  Chapter 36

>   Kate

  I gulped as I stood there, trying to hold back the tears that formed in my eyes.

  “Are you okay, darling?” Marcel asked as he walked over to me.

  “Of course.” I smiled. “I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded from the champagne and cosmos.”

  “Would you like to go home?”

  “I think that’s a good idea. I just really need to lie down.”

  He walked me up to my apartment, and before I opened the door, I told him good night.

  “Thank you for a beautiful evening, Marcel. I had a lot of fun.”

  “You’re welcome, my dear.” He stroked my chin with his thumb. “I wish that period of yours would end.”

  “Me too. It should only be a couple of more days.” I brushed my lips against his.

  “What are your plans for tomorrow?” he asked.

  “I was hoping to get to spend the day with you since it’s Saturday.”

  “Then your wish is my command. What shall we do?”

  “It’s supposed to rain all day, so I was thinking we could just spend the day at your place. I could cook for you and we could just relax and watch movies.” I smiled.

  “I would love that. I haven’t had a relaxing day in months.”

  “Great. I’ll stop at the store and pick up everything I need and head over around noon.”

  “Maybe you could spend the night with me.” His lips touched mine.