Disguised with the Millionaire (Dangerous Millionaires Series Book 2)

by Debra Andrews

  After the doors closed, Trent sighed in relief and ignored Greg’s Cheshire Cat grin. He had to give Cecilia credit for her persistence these past couple of months. With respect to her looks, she was attractive enough to tempt any man. However, his mother had been in on the hiring of Cecilia to entice him, and he wasn’t taking the bait. His early appointments easily took priority over her.

  After they exited on the top floor, Greg said, “Cecilia’s got it bad for you.”

  “Did you ever think it might be my money she has it bad for, Greg?”

  “How do you get that? Her family’s loaded. American blue bloods and all.”

  “Their fortune crashed in the real estate market. Cecilia lied and told me they were doing well. If there’s one thing I despise, Greg—it’s a liar. Cecilia needs a rich husband to bail them out of their bad investments. She probably thinks I’m their meal ticket.”

  When they entered his office, he stopped at his secretary’s desk. The poor woman looked exhausted. Her thin, gray hair hung in wisps and wasn’t done up in her usual style.

  He frowned. He knew she’d been worried about her husband’s health. “Good morning, Mrs. Nash. How’s Norm today?”

  She handed him his mail and said in her usual raspy voice, “As cantankerous as ever now that he’s home from the hospital. Doesn’t seem to think a mild heart attack is enough reason for retirement. Which means, Trent, you can look forward to a few more years of my services here.”

  Trent snorted. “Ah, wedded bliss.”

  “It is, most of the time.” The obvious intent in her raised, gray eyebrows wasn’t lost on him. Even his secretary pushed marriage on him.

  “You’re wasting your time trying to convince me, Mrs. Nash. Put in a call to Western and get Jack Prichard on the line for me. I need to find out what’s going on with the elevators again.”

  “Yes, Trent,” she said sweetly.

  He grinned. “Mr. Farrington will do.”

  Mrs. Nash smirked. “Never called you that and never will. I’ve known you since you were a toddler. I even babysat you from time to time when your mother was rushing off on one of her European trips.”

  “Don’t remind me,” he said dryly.

  “By the way, good morning, Mr. Dalton,” she said with a wink toward Greg.

  Trent chuckled. “If you need to leave early to check on Mr. Nash, one of the other secretaries can fill in for you.”

  “Thank you. Your mother called and said she is extending her vacation and hoped you wouldn’t mind handling a few matters for her.” His secretary handed him a long list that belied it was only a few small matters.

  “That’s just great. All I need is to have to handle the Ice Queen’s responsibilities too.” He strode into his office and sat down at his desk, putting the pile of paperwork in the center.

  Greg plopped down on the sofa. “Hey, don’t be so hard on her.”

  “Greg, she hates you. She calls you ‘the geek.’ Why defend her?”

  His friend shrugged. “She’s getting older.”

  “If only age would soften my mother. Not sure if anything can...”

  “You know, Cecilia might be interested in you for other reasons,” Greg said, picking up their previous conversation.

  “You’re dead set on a discussion about women, aren’t you, while I’ve got a building with seven elevators not working?” Trent smiled grimly and leaned back in his chair. “All right. You saw the woman downstairs, the plain blonde with the ugly glasses? She didn’t know who I was, and she wasn’t impressed in the least. I could have been a bug on the floor that she’d like to squash, but if she heard the name Farrington associated with me…”

  “She will. She works in the building, but I didn’t get her name.”

  Frowning, Trent gave him a sideways glance. Was Greg interested in the blonde?

  Greg shrugged. “Today was her first day, but I didn’t find out which company in the building she works for. However, I did find her reaction to you amusing. It’s true. Most women throw themselves at you. But this one, she fell into your arms, and then practically bit your head off. If looks could kill, buddy… Now there’s a glitch if I ever saw one.” Greg’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” Trent asked.

  “In fact, I think she’d have preferred falling right to the floor. I like the woman already.”

  Trent opened a file and flipped through the papers. “Laugh at my expense,” he remarked dryly. “She had a bite to her, but she hasn’t had much acquaintance with the Farrington name.” Trent glanced at Greg. “Money has a way of changing people. Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t been born into such a wealthy and prominent family. Then, instead of taking on an established company, I’d have had to prove myself and make my own way.”

  “You are making your own way. You’ve taken this company to a new level, and you’re going to win the State’s award for the Karger building’s design…and their contract.” If that were true, Trent’s building design would come to the attention of various builders across Florida.

  “We will be the top construction company, if Frank Blake doesn’t beat us. He’ll do anything to overtake our position in the State. Even cheat.”

  Despite what he’d said about starting his own company, Farrington Construction was in his blood. His familial duty was to continue what his great-great-grandfather had started. Working hard labor after arriving from Ireland penniless, his forefather, Joshua Farrington had built this company for his family, from the ground up.

  Trent sighed. He had achieved a measure of success these past two years and was close to putting his personal mark on the company’s future, except for one terrible tragedy. This year, he’d lost a man on the job.

  Now, his entire focus had to be mainly on the Karger project—keeping his crews safe and bringing the building to completion.

  Still, his thoughts returned to the blonde in the lobby. With those thick glasses, he had barely noticed her at first. However when she’d fallen into his arms he had found quite a surprise hidden under the shapeless outfit, enough to stir his body to react. He’d embarrassed her, so he pretended he didn’t notice that his hand had brushed her full breast as he caught her in his arms. What was curious was that, even before the incident, she seemed to dislike him for some reason. He wasn’t used to that.

  “What did you think of the redhead?” Greg asked, jarring Trent from contemplating the blonde. Before Trent could respond, Greg added, “I thought bright hair, dress too short. She probably hasn’t a brain in her giggly head. Which makes her more your type.”

  “Mine? What makes you think I don’t go for women with brains?” Trent placed his hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded, although what Greg said was pretty much true. Trent had not been looking for anything more serious than a good time. Meaningless, but satisfying sex was what he wanted, with no strings attached. That had been his mantra for years.

  Greg rose from the couch. “By her expression, it was obvious the redhead was impressed. She seems to have it bad for you and she doesn’t know who you are.”

  Trent swept his hand over the stacks of paper on his desk. “I’ve got bigger issues to worry about so I’ll have to forgo women for now. These days, I’m living and breathing the construction business.”

  That preoccupation with business over the last several months had meant he did not have much time for anything other than his work. He’d been running the other way every time Cecilia or anyone else came on to him, so he hadn’t been with a woman in two months. That was probably the reason he’d been strangely aroused by the slightest brushing of the uptight blonde’s body.

  “In forty minutes,” Trent said, flipping on his computer, “I have a meeting with my grandfather. Last night, another accident happened at the Karger site.”

  “Anyone hurt?”

  “Yeah, Mac burned his hands. But luckily, he corrected the problem before someone was electrocuted.”

  However, that wasn’t t
he only thing that bothered him. Minor accidents occasionally happened but even a single minor one was one too many. He had been at the Karger site just before the accident, but had been called away for a problem in Homestead.

  Greg stood. “Good thing. Off to work. Good luck with your grandfather.”

  “I need it. He won’t retire, even though the business is killing him.”

  After Greg left, Trent sighed. The old man was getting more demanding and didn’t want to lose an inch of control over the family business. Trent had gradually assumed more responsibilities, trying to lighten the load for his seventy-eight-year-old grandfather. The man needed to retire. It wouldn’t be easy to manage the family’s holdings without him, but Trent had to get him to slow down.

  Mrs. Nash buzzed. “Mr. Prichard from Western is on line one.”

  Trent picked up the phone. “Jack, it’s the third time this week that the elevators have malfunctioned. I need you here right away. You need to get to the bottom of this and fix the problem.”

  Trent hung up and then checked his watch. He had a few calls to make, and then he’d head off to face his grandfather. After the company’s latest near-fatal accident, Trent expected to hear a round of accusations—and deservedly so. Since he planned to take over the company, the buck now stopped with him. Everything that went wrong weighed on his shoulders and lately too many things had gone wrong.

  They were either becoming accident-prone or having a hell of an unlucky streak.

  CHAPTER TWO

  After nearly ten more minutes of waiting, Kate and Darcy boarded an elevator and soared upward to the forty-fourth floor. Once the doors opened, Kate stepped off, relieved, her heart thumping in a panicked rhythm.

  What a way to start the first day on the job? How could she have lost her temper with Trent Farrington? She—who was always so calm and in control… Why hadn’t she simply allowed him to help her and played the part of the grateful lady? In one swift movement, he had saved her from a fall on the hard marble floor. Normally she’d have thanked someone so gallant, but had she…? No. She’d nearly bitten his head off. And he was her new boss…

  Was this masquerade going to work? Everything she hoped to accomplish hinged on her being civil. In control. Could she do it?

  And would he forget brushing against her in the lobby? Her breasts tingled at the thought. He had touched her, held her in his arms. Although she tried to curb it, another wave of sizzling heat swept through her.

  Disgusted by her reaction to him, she mentally shook herself and turned the key in the lock to her new office. She flashed Darcy a meaningful look, and then swung the door open. Kate’s gaze shot straight through to the expansive windows and her heart lurched.

  Darcy entered the office first. “Wow, what a great working space.” She placed her purse on the secretarial desk in the outer office and then ambled into Kate’s.

  Kate cringed at the height. She watched nervously as Darcy made her way to the desk in front of a huge window. Kate followed, reluctantly inching forward on shaky legs. The City of Fort Lauderdale sprawled below with Farrington Towers dwarfing the surrounding buildings.

  “Forty-four floors up, huh?” Kate asked with a gulp. “The people on the street look like ants.”

  Darcy gasped. “Hey, you’re so pale. Are you going to be okay with this?”

  Kate returned a weak smile. “Sure. I’ll be all right, but this incredible height will take some getting used to.”

  Darcy pulled the curtains partially closed. “I can’t believe you got us jobs here.”

  Kate sighed. “Yeah, James Farrington believed me, but for how long, I don’t know. We need to gather our evidence and get out of here quickly.”

  “But while we’re here, get a load of this luxury,” Darcy exclaimed.

  Kate whirled to study the spacious office with its sleek desk and a seating area consisting of a gray chenille sofa and matching chairs. If all this was hers, she thought with grim sarcasm, how was the prince and heir’s office decorated? “I suppose I can handle working here for a while. It’ll be different from the dining room table in my little bungalow, don’t you think?”

  “How do you plan to handle this job and still have time for the paper’s advice column?”

  “I’ll write in the evenings. I just hope the Farringtons don’t mind if their employees moonlight,” Kate quipped dryly.

  Darcy shut the door and leaned against its sturdy, polished mahogany. “He’s so handsome.”

  “Who is?” Kate whispered, half-afraid of the answer.

  “Trent Farrington, of course. He was the only Greek god I saw downstairs. And he held you awfully close,” Darcy said wistfully.

  “For one second…and I almost fell.” Kate wasn’t going to mention that she’d made the same comparison, or that his hand had brushed against her breast. “Do you really care how handsome he is—when we both know he’s a crook?” she asked.

  “Too bad he’s the person you suspect. What did you think about the other guy? What’s his name?” Darcy snapped her fingers and plopped down on the chenille sofa. “He was not bad, if you like the computer-geek type.”

  Kate rolled her eyes. Darcy wouldn’t remember any truly eligible man’s name, but would take in every detail and trail after the impossible—an unobtainable player like Farrington who was corrupt to boot. “Put that way, you make Greg Dalton sound so appealing.”

  Darcy dismissed Kate’s sarcasm and grinned. “He’s perfect for you, Kate. Your biggest problem with meeting men right now is that pair of glasses you wear.”

  “That’s nice,” Kate said dryly. “I couldn’t see a thing without them.”

  “Come on. There’s always corrective surgery or contacts. Or even those thinner lenses…”

  “I have contacts, and I prefer these glasses.” Kate sat at the desk and opened the drawers. Inside, she found the it stocked with pens, file folders and the standard office supplies.

  “Why don’t you let me do something with your hair, Kate? I think Greg Dillon likes you. Let’s go on a shopping spree, too. You need some fashionable clothes for work.”

  Kate laughed and put up her hand to curb Darcy’s ramblings. “Stop. And his name is Greg Dalton. In addition, there’s nothing wrong with this suit. I think it makes me look older and I need to be taken seriously in this job.”

  Darcy crossed her arms over her chest. “Kate, I know why you dress that way. Not all men are creeps like your stepfather, or those shady men he used to bring around your house. I remember when you went to college… You weren’t trying to hide yourself then.”

  The blood drained from Kate’s face.

  Darcy blew out an exasperated breath. “Gosh, Kate. Whatever your stepfather did to you that put that look on your face—please forget I said anything. I’m sorry I brought it up. ”

  Wincing, Kate nodded. “He’s not my favorite subject.” She preferred to keep her past with Bill Jackson bottled up with a tight lid, as a kind of protection for her sense of self-worth and wellbeing.

  “And you had a stupid fiancé, too,” Darcy added.

  Her college boyfriend had pursued her for a year. They had been friends first. She had grown to trust him, after years of not trusting anyone. Then he dumped her. “Jeff just wasn’t strong enough to stand up to his mother when she found out about my stepfather’s prison record.”

  Her stepfather, Bill Jackson, was a notorious conman. When she was eighteen, he had used her name for his cover in one of his schemes. She’d been arrested and spent a night in jail, thanks to him.

  Kate shrugged. “And I really can’t blame Jeff’s mother. It sure didn’t look good that I’d been arrested.”

  “But you were exonerated––weren’t even charged when they found out it was your stepfather.”

  “But do people really believe my innocence? I don’t think so. And my education plans to become a psychologist were nearly ruined by that jerk—”

  “Okay, Kate, but not everyone is going to judge you by your c
reep of a stepfather. And I’ll drop it for now about the clothes, but the shoes—the shoes are great.”

  Kate swiveled her chair away from the desk and stuck out her foot, admiring the simple, black pumps with slim, high heels. “Do you like them? They’re my plainest.”

  “I love the shoes. I’d take them off your feet in a minute, but darn it,” Darcy said, putting her hands on her hips, as if pretending to be disgruntled, “they’re two sizes too small.”

  Kate ignored that comment. “I do have a weakness for pretty shoes.”

  “Okay, but the rest? Come on, you might not look half-bad and hook a boyfriend if you wore maybe a shorter skirt… You have great legs—”

  “Darcy, please. Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not here for romance…or to meet anyone. I have to do this first.”

  “All right.” Sighing, Darcy leaned back on the sofa. “It’s funny, but Trent Farrington doesn’t look like a criminal to me. Damn, all I can say is it’s just too bad for us single women.”

  “I don’t think it would matter. Didn’t you see the woman draping herself all over him in the lobby? It looks like he’s already taken.”

  “Kate, why would he steal and cheat when he has everything going for him?”

  “Look,” Kate said bluntly, “Farrington probably didn’t intend for Matt to die—I’m not saying he did—but he runs a crooked, unsafe operation, and my brother was killed because of it. Who knows what Farrington’s covering up? Rich people have ways of getting around the law. Not everyone in this world is good.”

  “And not everyone is bad either, Kate.”

  “I don’t think they are either, but you can’t tell a book by its cover. What’s on the inside is what should count. Farrington is dishonest. So let’s get to work, but just remember why we came here, all right? I need evidence that he’s buying inferior products to save a buck, then I’ll turn it over to the police. We won’t get into this any deeper than that.”

  “All right, whatever you say…but are you sure he’s the one?”

  Sighing, Kate leaned her elbows on the desk and put her hands under her chin. “Yeah, I know I’m right. So today, we set up the office. Tomorrow I’ll see if I can get into the records and see how Farrington was cheating. I think a few invoices showing he was buying products below the required code and causing a hazardous situation by doing so, should be enough.”