“Marc makes me feel safe and not a target for muggers,” she said, as if she could read his mind. Her fingers stroked a diamond earring dangling from her earlobe. A diamond bracelet adorned her wrist. “What’s the point of having lovely things, if one can’t take pleasure in them? And I admit I enjoy being taken around town by a handsome man.”
Trent shrugged. “What you do is your business.”
His curt remark had little effect on her. “I must say thank you for riding with me to the party.”
Trent raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like his mother to want to be alone with him.
The black limousine rolled down the long brick driveway and through the wrought iron gates toward downtown. Silence fell between them as they passed shops and restaurants lining Las Olas Boulevard. He waited for an explanation.
Finally, she pulled an envelope from her purse. “This is the speech your grandfather was to give.”
Trent scanned the material and put the paper in his inside jacket pocket. “I’m sure you’ve done another fine job of putting the benefit together.”
She clasped her hands in her lap. “Thank you. One of your duties tonight will be to make the Granthams feel welcome. I know they make you crazy, but they’re major benefactors to the charities. I’m sure you can handle the rest of the responsibilities.”
He inclined his head. “I’ll do my best.” He’d never cared for the Granthams because Eden sucked up to them all the time.
“I know you will, and that’s why James is leaning heavily on you. Will you also think about what your grandfather is proposing?”
Trent raised an eyebrow. “You mean, find a wife?”
“Yes. Why not Cecilia? Along with the Granthams, Cecilia’s parents will be here. Both Mr. and Mrs. Sheffield agree with me that their daughter would make you an excellent wife.”
“I’m sure they think so,” he muttered. “But don’t you feel that’s a bit strange since she’s related to us?” And they need my money because of their bad investments, he thought dryly, but didn’t add that.
“Gracious me. Where do you come up with these things? With the Sheffields distantly related to my side of the family before the Civil War, and generations away, that hardly counts as some sort of incest.”
He shifted uneasily in his seat. They were driving him crazy with their constant chatter about marriage. Was that the plan, to wear him down so he’d marry just anyone?
Anger simmered in him. “So, marriage to Cecilia is what you want?”
“I think you couldn’t find anyone more suitable. She’s not some slut who will marry you for your money and divorce you later.”
“As you have reminded me so many times before: My money is all a woman would want from me.”
“In our position, we must be careful.” She reached out and brushed her hand briefly across his. He flinched. “The Sheffields are an old family of distinction. Cecilia’s uncle is a senator, and might even be president one day.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “And I’m aware that her family is having financial difficulties. Do you want me to trade my money for someone with political prestige?”
“It’s done often enough, even today.”
“If I ever marry, Eden, it won’t be because I’ve checked the woman’s pedigree or what she can bring to our family.”
He knew he’d struck a blow by reminding her of her own marriage to his father—that her family had brought money to the table.
Eden pursed her lips. “I didn’t expect you would ever give Cecilia a chance, especially since it’s something I want.” She turned her back on him and gazed out the window. “I think she’s a delightful girl.”
Last Saturday night, he had taken Cecilia out to dinner and a musical, but he wasn’t telling Eden. During the show, he had endured Cecilia brushing her hand against his cheek, then accidentally his groin. He dropped her off promptly after the show. Cecilia had thrown her arms around him, rubbed her breasts against him and invited him in for the night. She told him graphically what she wanted them to do.
Not interested, he’d left her pouting in her hall.
Eden turned and glared. “No. You’d never consider Cecilia because she’s someone I’d be proud to say is my daughter-in-law.”
He shrugged, acknowledging there was some truth in her statement. Just knowing his mother pushed Cecilia on him doubly turned him off.
“You’re as selfish as your father was—he couldn’t be faithful. And you’ve never tried to do what I want you to do, to make me happy. That’s why we’ve never gotten along, Trent.”
His jaw tightened. He was her son. When had she ever cared to make him happy? He remembered being really sick when he was three or four, but it was his grandmother who had taken care of him. His mother had not been there for him either when he was six and had crashed his bicycle and broken his arm. She’d already planned a luncheon engagement so she arranged for Mrs. Nash to sit with him in the hospital emergency room. It was Mrs. Nash who sat with her arm around him while he cried. He still remembered his mother telling him that boys were hurt all the time by their stupid actions—grubby things that they were—and for him to let the pain be a reminder he shouldn’t be so careless.
Nor, was she there for him after his father died.
He looked down his nose at her now. “Then I think we’re even,” he snapped. “You want me to marry someone to increase your status in the social world? Isn’t your circle lofty enough?” He could barely hold his anger in check. “Do you want me to be miserable just because you and my father were? Your father and my grandfather all but arranged your marriage to benefit their families and you wanted my father. Is that what you want for me?”
Eden’s face reddened. “You ungrateful bast…” She raised her palm as if to strike him and then lowered her hand and braced the seat.
“No, at least you’ve never hit me. You’re too much in control.”
“Sometimes I think you purposely try to upset me,” she said more calmly. “Perhaps James is right. You can’t handle the responsibilities that come with being a true Farrington.”
“I am a true Farrington and my responsibility is to myself—first. I learned that from you, Eden. The last thing I’ll do is marry someone pushed on me, so back off. I’ll decide when and if someone will be my wife.”
“It would serve you right if your grandfather sold everything or turned the business over to Roland. You’re going to fall in love with one of those sluts you see. You’ve already had Dr. Meyers up to your office, after hours.”
He frowned. How did she have that information? “You’re really way off base if you think Dr. Meyers and I—”
“Really?” she said dryly. “I’m not at all surprised at what goes on in your office. Why don’t you marry Cecilia and make us all happy? You could still have your cheap whores behind her back, just as your father did to me. Then I would have someone presentable for my friends.” She turned her back on him again and her shoulders shook as if she cried.
His shoulders bunched. He hated to see a woman in tears and Eden never cried. No matter how bad their relationship was, she was his mother. “Don’t cry.”
She shook her head, and mumbled over her shoulder, “I’m fine. I didn’t mean to get so angry with you. It’s not your fault your father cheated on me…although you remind me so much of him, in looks and in your lifestyle. Despite what you think…I want you to be happy.” While she still kept her back to him, she reached out and patted his arm. “You spoke the truth about my marriage,” she choked out. “Then you came a long… Even so, Porter still lived his whoring lifestyle as if he were single. I think he only came home to me because of…because of you.”
Trent’s stomach tensed in a knot of guilt for upsetting her so.
She exhaled a deep breath and turned to face him. “The company is riding on your shoulders now. I want to be there for you, to make amends.”
“Too late, Eden.”
“It’s never too late as long as w
e’re alive. If I could take back everything and be a better mother to you… I’m so sorry. Please, at least let me be your friend now.”
The boy inside him wanted her love, but not the man. He didn’t need her anymore.
“I don’t think there’s a chance in hell of that ever happening.”
“I won’t give up.” She turned her head toward the window again. “I may not be the perfect mother, but I want you to know how proud I am of your latest achievements. I look forward to the award’s ceremony. And James, he is also proud of you.” She didn’t glance at Trent, although her icy fingers groped for his hand. “Please…”
A long time ago, he would have done anything for her approval or affection. He shook off her hand. “Don’t try. Now, let’s carry on the remainder of the evening civilly.”
They rode the rest of the way to the benefit ball in silence. As they pulled in front of the main doors of Farrington Towers, he couldn’t help but wonder about her strange behavior tonight. Was something wrong with her? Was she ill? Was that why she wanted to make amends—now?
* * *
Jazz music floated from the stereo in the living room and into the bathroom of Kate’s small bungalow in Victoria Park. She and Darcy dressed for the benefit ball. Glancing into the big bathroom mirror, Kate tugged at the silver-blue, eighteenth-century ball gown, trying to get the neckline to cover more. The wide skirt made her waist seem tiny. She ran her fingers through the creamy lace hanging from the three-quarter length sleeves, then turned sideways.
She frowned at how her breasts swelled over the tight bodice. “Darcy, I knew I should have gone with you to pick out my costume. I swear I can’t wear this. It’s too revealing.”
In a similar pink ball gown, Darcy preened in the mirror. A hairpiece of rich red curls flowed down her back. She took a brush and dusted a rosy blush over her cheekbones. “Oh, come on, Kate. Showing your bosom was all the rage back then, and now you look the part.”
A final misting of hair spray to Darcy’s hair threatened to choke Kate in the small bathroom.
Darcy plumped up the curls of the fall. “I’d love thick hair like this—like yours.”
“You look pretty. How I envy the fiery color of your hair.”
Darcy clamped her hands on her hips and glanced down at her own small breasts. “And I wish I had your problem there, too.”
Kate stared at the mirror in dismay. “Thanks, but I think I’ll catch a cold,” she said noticing the irony.
“It’s South Florida and seventy-five degrees outside. You’re not showing that much. You’re just not used to it.”
“You know there’s such a thing as air-conditioning.”
“I should have the problem of freezing mine off,” Darcy said, stuffing tissues in the bodice of her dress. “Guess I should have bought a padded bra.”
Kate turned back to the mirror and frowned again. “I suppose there’s nothing I can do about this costume, but live with it.”
“Now, for your makeup and hair. Did you bring the contacts?”
“Yes. Right here.”
“Okay. Put them in. I’ll be right back with our wine after I change the music.”
Darcy had insisted she put on Kate’s makeup so Kate settled onto the barstool she’d brought into the bathroom. She supposed makeup would add to her disguise tonight. The starchy satin of the gown rustled and felt foreign against her skin.
Kate muttered under her breath, “Perhaps I should have dressed as ‘Cat Woman’ and worn a black cat suit for stealth.”
What costume would Trent wear tonight? She inwardly groaned, stopping her thoughts. What could it matter? Even though she now suspected the villain could be someone else, she had not officially cleared Trent—and she was at the company on false pretenses. Besides, she wasn’t planning to go into the ballroom, just the offices. This evening presented a perfect opportunity to snoop.
Since seeing him at the construction site, she’d only run into him one other time during the week, and it had been in the hallway at work. She’d been talking to Greg and had laughed at something he’d said just as Trent rounded a corner. Trent’s gaze had briefly met hers before traveling over to Greg, then her employer gave them both a brief nod and walked on.
Darcy changed the music in the living room and a classical song filled the air.
Kate leaned toward her reflection and popped in the contacts she’d ordered last week. Tonight, it was a necessity to be in disguise and unrecognizable.
She hadn’t worn contacts in years, but for a few days, she’d been trying them out in the evenings to accustom herself to wearing lenses again. For a few seconds her eyes teared at the intrusion. She blinked and opened them to find deep, dark, forest-green eyes staring back at her.
Darcy returned to the bathroom and thrust a glass of Chardonnay into Kate’s hand. “I put on Beethoven. We need some mood music to get us into character. Now, turn away from the mirror. No peeking, until I’m finished with your hair and makeup.”
While Darcy applied makeup, Kate took an occasional sip of wine, trying to calm her ever-tightening nerves. Kate couldn’t believe she was actually going to search in some of the Farrington offices tonight.
Darcy arranged Kate’s long hair on top of her head, securing her blond tresses with pins.
Finally, Darcy brushed a finishing coat of powder and pressed something onto Kate’s cheek. “You need a beauty mark. Now close those eyes.”
After another choking mist of hairspray, Darcy held a feathered fan to Kate’s face and swiveled the barstool around toward the mirror. “All right, get ready for the unveiling.” She theatrically lowered the fan.
Staring into the mirror, Kate’s eyes widened. Long, blond curls cascaded over her left shoulder and emphasized the small heart-shaped birthmark she had on her collarbone. The lipstick accentuated her full lips.
Darcy put her hands on her hips. “I always knew you were pretty, but now, you’re drop-dead gorgeous.”
Kate’s mouth turned down.
“I must be your fairy godmother. Who would have believed?” Darcy asked.
Anxiety gnawed at Kate, but Darcy shook her head. “Don’t worry, girl. No one will recognize you with this transformation. I wouldn’t recognize you. You’re usually so drab.” A blush spread on Darcy’s cheeks. She put her hand to her mouth and coughed. “Sorry.”
Kate gulped her wine to relieve her dry throat. Even she was amazed at the change, since a few years had passed since she’d tried to look pretty.
Panic revolted in her stomach. She didn’t like this at all. It reminded her of her stepfather’s seedy friends ogling her, and how her fiancé, Jeff, had paraded her about to his friends in college. She realized later that her fiancé had cared more about her looks than about her—and he couldn’t get beyond her stepfather’s criminal past. After they broke up, she had decided her brains were going to take her places—not her outward appearance.
Kate grabbed the powdered wig that went with the costume. “I’m wearing this.”
“No way. I worked so hard on your hair. Trust me, no one is going to recognize you.”
“I can’t chance it, Darcy.” Kate pulled the wig over her blond curls.
“Doesn’t matter,” her friend said, shaking her finger at her. “You still look beyond beautiful. I don’t know why you’ve been hiding your looks all of these years, girl.” Darcy exhaled a deep breath. “Forget that statement. I can guess why—your fiancé and your stepfather both did a number on you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The elevator bell dinged as Kate and Darcy reached the forty-second floor of Farrington Towers. Kate released her clammy grip on the railing and blew out a deep breath. No matter how many times she rode these high-tech elevators, she still trembled as if it were the first time.
Once they stepped onto the floor, she pulled her friend aside and allowed their fellow passengers to pass by. A medium-sized gladiator strode by and winked at them. He gave Kate a long going-over and a low whistle.
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His date, dressed as a slave girl, tugged on his arm and yanked him along and down the hallway. “You’re no Russell Crowe. So unless you want me to feed you to the lions, keep your eyes on me.”
In the next group was a wimpy-looking Dracula. Behind him, a bulky Frankenstein shuffled down the hall. His bride wore a towering beehive hairdo and her tittering laughter filled the air as they drifted toward the doorman taking tickets. Each time the doors opened and someone entered, rock music vibrated from the ballroom.
“This should be fun,” Darcy whispered, after everyone had passed.
Kate placed her hand on Darcy’s arm. “Listen, I meant it. I’m not going inside. This disguise was just to get me into the building.”
Darcy sighed. “Why can’t we enjoy tonight? We can always return to our covert ways on Monday.”
“Funny; but tonight is for Matt. And it’s the perfect opportunity for me to get into those offices.”
Darcy’s shoulders drooped. “Do you want my help?”
“No. Of course not. You go and have fun, just let me know later what gossip you hear.” She gave her friend a bland smile that belied her nervousness. “Besides, tonight is your night. You look radiant. I’m sure some lucky guy is going to fall madly in love with you.”
The next load of people streamed out of the elevator and blocked the doorman’s view of the stairwell. This was her chance.
“Darcy, wish me luck. I’m going up. If nothing comes of tonight’s investigation to implicate Trent or someone else, I might just leave the company.” She also didn’t like that she was so attracted to him, especially now that she thought he might be innocent.
“Why can’t we stay anyway? You’re doing a good job.”
“You can stay, but there is no way I can. Eventually they’ll figure out I falsified the psychologist part—they might even find out that I’m Matt’s stepsister and figure out why I came here.”
She waved Darcy on and opened the door to the stairwell. It was vacant, faintly lit, and too dark for her taste tonight. Goose bumps prickled up Kate’s arms.
Disguised with the Millionaire (Dangerous Millionaires Series Book 2) Page 10