Disguised with the Millionaire (Dangerous Millionaires Series Book 2)

by Debra Andrews

The heavy door closed behind her. Glad her slippers were quiet on the metal steps, she climbed up the stairs toward the executive offices.

  At the sound of quick footsteps hitting the stairs and coming down toward her, Kate’s heartbeat quickened. She backed against the wall and sucked in her breath. A tall, dark figure rounded the corner and nearly bumped into her. She gasped.

  “Excuse me. I didn’t see you,” said a man in a familiar voice.

  Trent! Her heart skipped a beat.

  Although he wore a black hat and a mask, she would recognize him anywhere. Of all the people to run into, on her way to breaking into the offices… How could she explain her presence up here?

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She lifted her hand to her sequined mask, making sure it was firmly in place. “Oui, you frightened me, that’s all.” She hoped her best French accent from four years of studying the language was good enough to disguise her voice. “J'ai perdu mon chemin… I mean, I have lost my way and exited on the wrong floor. I’ve no sense of direction at all.”

  Her teeth caught her lower lip. Would he recognize her and challenge her?

  “The party is down a couple of floors. Why don’t I show you the way?”

  He didn’t recognize her. She exhaled a deep breath.

  She had no choice, so she followed him down the darkened stairwell. “Merci beaucoup for your kind assistance.”

  Once they were in the hall, the doorman gave Trent a nod. Kate retrieved her ticket from her evening bag.

  “Are you with someone?” Trent asked as he took her by the elbow and led her through the door into the ballroom.

  At the feel of his fingers touching her bare skin, tingles ran up her arm, leaving her speechless. When he dropped his hand to his side, a wave of relief swept through her.

  “I came with a friend, monsieur. She’s here, somewhere?” She glanced around the elegant room, with its glass-topped, domed ceiling. Music, voices and laughter mingled in the air.

  A woman in plumes walked by, followed by a man dressed in top hat and tails. Movie characters Dorothy and the Scarecrow danced together. On one side, there were three stages set up for different types of music. The rock band set down their instruments. At the middle stage, an orchestra began to play.

  “Something for everyone,” Trent said over the music.

  Kate gazed up at him. As usual, he looked handsome and virile. He was something for everyone. She clenched her hands in the folds of her dress and frowned at her crazy thought.

  She scanned the crowd. “I don’t see my friend.”

  “Would you like something to drink?” he asked, nodding his head toward the bar.

  “Qui.” Kate flicked her fan to cover her face. “Champagne would be nice.”

  “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” He gave her a smile that weakened her knees. He had never smiled like that at ‘Dr. Meyers.’

  Was she crazy? She couldn’t let him get her a drink. If he knew she was Dr. Meyers––who he thoroughly disliked—and that she had intended to send him to prison, he wouldn’t want to spend a moment with her.

  Trent strode through the crowd of flamboyant costumes toward a bar lined with people. Knowing he’d only be away for a few minutes, Kate fled across the floor and found Darcy.

  Kate gripped her friend’s arm. “Trent caught me in the stairwell as I was going up to the offices.”

  “Yikes, Kate. What are you going to do?”

  “He didn’t recognize me, thank God. But I need to leave before he does. He went for drinks. He’s by the bar at the main door.” She swiveled toward the bar where she saw him speaking to the bartender. “Once he’s away from the entrance, I’ll slip out.”

  A waiter carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres approached them. Darcy took a shrimp canapé. Kate waved him away. No way could she eat anything because of the knots in her stomach. “I guess I’d better go. It’ll probably be worse if he sees us together.”

  A man dressed as Buffalo Bill sashayed up to them. He tweaked his mustache with his fingers. “Howdy. How ’bout if we rustle up a dance?”

  His friend, a short cowboy in a tall ten-gallon hat, joined them. “Yeah, how ’bout it, pretty ladies?” he asked in a decent John Wayne accent. “Can we talk you into a round of foot stompin’ on the dance floor?”

  Kate shook her head. “No, sorry, I can’t.”

  * * *

  Holding a glass of champagne in one hand and a beer in the other, Trent scanned the ballroom for the Cinderella beauty. She wasn’t where he’d left her. Damn, where did she go? He was definitely losing his touch. Dr. Meyers—the one woman he was interested in knowing better—disliked him immensely. She liked Greg, and his friend obviously returned her affection. Not only had Trent seen them in the hallway laughing about something two days ago, he had stepped into the Green Tree Restaurant and spotted them having lunch together. Both looked happy and were smiling. Trent had turned and walked out the door.

  “Trent Farrington,” a man bellowed from behind him.

  The company’s archrival bore down on him. In his fifties, rugged, and deeply tanned, Blake wore a gray pinstriped suit, right out of the 1930s. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back.

  “How fitting, Blake,” Trent drawled. “You’d make Dillinger proud.” He sipped his beer and glanced toward the crowd.

  “Not happy to see me?”

  Trent shrugged. “Can’t keep the riff-raff out. As you know, the party’s open to anyone willing to pay three hundred dollars a plate.” He leveled his gaze on Blake, not liking the idea of Blake being anywhere near Farrington’s operations.

  “How else would you see me once a year, if I didn’t come?” Blake smiled and patted Trent on the back.

  The man was as crooked as the teeth on a broken saw. At the deadly look Trent bestowed on him, the man wisely removed his hand.

  “Ah, come on, Farrington. Let’s forget the past. That was business. Now, how are you doing?”

  “Hard to forget a vice president who quits and absconds with some of our best clients.”

  “Hell, they used their own better judgment and went with me.”

  Trent glared at him. “So what do you want from me?”

  “I want to discuss business. Rumors are going around that your granddad’s health is on the downhill slide. He’s an old man. You should sell out.”

  “When he retires, I’ll run the business.”

  Blake’s laughter boomed. “Come on, Trent. You and your useless cousin? You’ll both run the company into the ground. And you, you’re still wet behind the ears. I’m willing to offer you boys a decent price. Sell and enjoy yourselves. I bet Roland would like that. You’d both be set up nicely for life.”

  “I don’t care what your price is. The company’s not for sale.”

  Blake snorted. “A man was killed, and now I’ve heard another burned his hands at your downtown site. OSHA’s going to shut you boys down if you have any more accidents.”

  Trent barely restrained himself from grabbing the scum by the lapels. This wasn’t the place to brawl, but he’d reached the limit of his control. “Are you threatening me?”

  “Threatening? All I’m saying is if you have more accidents, you’re going to bring the reputation of the company down.”

  “You seem to keep pretty close tabs on what’s going on with my company?”

  “Face it, Trent, you’re not competent to fill James Farrington’s shoes. Your granddad will listen to reason and sell to me.”

  “If that cold day in hell ever came around, he’d never sell to you.”

  “We’ll see. Everyone knows Farrington Construction has had its day, especially when James Farrington steps away. Either way, Blake Construction is moving up. We’ll steamroll over all our competition and be number one in the state.”

  “Try it.”

  “Just remember, I offered to buy you out. Listen to reason. Any more accidents and you’ll want to salvage what you can, and then I’ll pick up t
he company for a cheaper price.” He gave Trent a curt nod and strode away.

  Watching him go, Trent’s mood blackened. Was that a threat? The crooked bastard would never get his hands on Farrington Construction.

  “Guess who?” From behind him, Cecilia slipped her arms around Trent’s waist and flattened her breasts into his back as if one date made them a couple. “Dance with me. It’s my royal command.”

  He shrugged from her hold and turned to face her. She made a good Cleopatra with her shoulder-length dark hair, Egyptian headdress, and decorated dress, but he wasn’t interested. “Not now. I’m looking for someone.”

  “Is that champagne for me?”

  He shrugged and handed her the glass as Cinderella had all but disappeared.

  “Your mother is over there. It would make her happy to see us dance together.”

  Cecilia pointed to where Eden sat at a table among a group of her friends. She nodded and had a faint smile on her lips.

  Trent inwardly groaned. He glanced around for the woman in the silver-blue gown. Had she left?

  “Trent, you’re not listening to me. What does it take for a girl to get your attention?”

  It depends on the woman.

  Over Cecilia’s shoulder, he spotted Cinderella across the ballroom. Something about her hit him like a tidal wave even now. “Excuse me. There is someone I need to speak to.”

  Cecilia clung to his arm. “Come home with me tonight.”

  “No.” He shook off her hold and headed toward the girl in the silver-blue gown as if an invisible connection reeled him to her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Under the ballroom’s glittering chandeliers, Kate had watched Cecilia with Trent. They made a beautiful couple with their similar coloring. Rumors about their first date ran rampant through the office. Kate gritted her teeth. He was a player. How easily he passed himself around to every woman he met, making them each feel special for the moment. Well, Cecilia could have him.

  Then his gaze had shot across the ballroom, meeting Kate’s. The air escaped her lungs. By his expression, he didn’t look too pleased that she’d not waited for him to return with the drinks.

  Why had she stayed a moment longer, chancing she’d be discovered by Trent? Was she sabotaging herself?

  Kate snapped out of her daze. “I’ve got to go.”

  Darcy’s head jerked toward Trent. “Uh oh, he’s headed this way.”

  Kate spun around and smashed into a portly batman. The man pulled her into a tight embrace, crushing her breasts against his plastic breastplate.

  “What’s this?” he slurred in a deep voice. “Manna from heaven?”

  Kate struck him with her fist. “Let me go.”

  “Baby, why so fast?” He reeked of hard liquor.

  “I said let go—now.” She jabbed the heel of her slipper into his foot.

  “Ouch.” Batman released her. “Hey, the pretty kitten has claws. I only wanted a dance. This is a party, you know. That’s what goes on here…among other things,” he said in a low growl near her ear.

  “I don’t dance with drunks.”

  With hands on her hips, Darcy stepped beside Kate. “Is this guy giving you trouble?”

  Kate straightened the shoulders of her gown. “Yes.” She bestowed a nasty look on the out-of-shape man dressed in tights, then remembered her disguise and her French accent. “Who do you think you are, Monsieur Batman?”

  A cocky smirk spread on his lips. “Oh, come on now, kitten––you know exactly who I am.”

  “I have no idea.” She turned to Darcy. “I’m leaving…”

  Trent bore down on her, through the crowd and gave her no chance to escape. What else could she do? Batman was the lesser of two evils.

  She tilted her head up at him and mustered a smile. “I’ve changed my mind, monsieur. I’ll take that dance.”

  He laughed. “So, you’ve finally realized who I am,” he said drolly. “I knew you would.”

  Kate had never met the drunken man before, but if he kept her from facing Trent at this moment, she would do anything. She allowed Batman to lead her onto the dance floor. When a rock song broke out, she exhaled in relief, never more grateful for fast music in her life.

  While they danced, Kate stole a nervous glance toward Trent. He was near Darcy, his arms crossed over his chest as if waiting for the song to end.

  “What’s your name, beauty?” Batman’s slurred words broke into her thoughts.

  “This is a masquerade, monsieur, so I’m not telling.”

  “The unmasking will be soon. I can hardly wait to find out who you really are.”

  “I’m new around here. You don’t know me.”

  “All right, I’ll play your game. I’m Batman for this evening, but I think you’ve figured out who I really am.”

  She blinked. Was she supposed to know who he was? “I still don’t know who you are.” She wanted to add that she didn’t care, but the man had saved her from Trent. Now, all she had to do was get near the entrance doors and slip out.

  He cocked his head. “Ah, not impressed? What to do? Does the name Farrington Construction ring a bell? Hint—you’re at Farrington Towers and this is a Farrington function.”

  A soft gasp escaped Kate. “You’re a Farrington?”

  He chuckled. “Now you’re shocked, but it’s your lucky night. However, I’m not a Farrington in name. The name is Roland Sikes and I’m James Farrington’s grandson.”

  Her heart raced. How had she not heard that there was another grandson? She choked out, “I assumed Trent Farrington was the last of the Farringtons.”

  “So he is, but what’s in a name?” Despite the mask he wore, the mention of Trent brought a look of gleaming hatred to his pale blue eyes. His lips twisted cynically. “My mother was a Farrington. Hate to claim it, but Trent and I are cousins.”

  Kate’s shoulders drooped. She had failed in her research. An article had stated Trent was the last of the Farringtons, but perhaps there were even more heirs with different last names. “Are there any other grandchildren?” she asked weakly.

  He gave her a grim smile. “No, just the two of us. If you’re trying to pick out which one you’d prefer, I can tell you my cousin isn’t half the man I am.” He was clearly jealous of Trent. “Ah, a slow dance.”

  Her luck had run out with the music. Reluctantly, she let him pull her into the dance. She stared into his breastplate. His heavy cologne and the smell of alcohol on his breath suffocated her, along with his overbearing personality.

  While she moved with him, her mind reeled from the fact that there was now another grandson in the picture.

  She did her best to maneuver Roland through the crowd, brushing by the other dancers to get as near to the exit as possible.

  “I’m supposed to lead,” he said dryly.

  “Equal rights for women, monsieur.”

  “I like a woman who knows what she wants.” He smiled and pulled her close. “Lead me wherever you’d like, baby.” His hand slid down her back to her backside, where he squeezed.

  Forgetting her accent, she shoved him away. “Stop it.”

  He gripped her arms. “I meant nothing by it, baby, but you do turn me on.”

  “This dance is over. Let me go.” She struggled to free herself, but his hands were clenching her arms above her elbows, squeezing and hurting her.

  “I’ll let you go when I’m ready, kitten.”

  “You heard her,” a familiar voice said behind her.

  “Go to hell, cuz. This one is mine.” Roland lunged at Trent who, in one swift movement, twisted his cousin’s arm behind his back.

  Trent growled in a low voice, “Do you want our grandfather to read in the papers tomorrow about how his two grandsons brawled here tonight?”

  Roland shook his head, his breath coming in gasps. Trent released him. Roland took a step backward and caught his balance. He turned and raised a fist and looked like he might come back at Trent. Then reasoning must have taken over because h
e laughed as if it was a joke. “You’d like for me to make a fool of myself here. Won’t happen. As I said, watch your back, cuz.” He stalked toward the bar.

  Kate gaped. Like a landslide, her brother’s last words rushed to her, this time coloring her perspective differently: “Grandson… Trent…tell…found… Jeopardizes…integrity…building…”

  She put her fingers to her lips. What if Matt had meant the other grandson and his message had been for her to tell Trent? If so, this was a huge error on her part. Trembling, she wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Are you all right?” Trent asked.

  Fighting the hysteria bubbling inside her, knowing she might have been after the wrong man all along, she nodded. “I’ll be fine in a moment.”

  “Sorry about my cousin. He’s drunk.”

  Steadying her nerves, she rubbed her arm where Roland had grabbed her. She’d have bruises tomorrow, but as much as he’d frightened her, none of that mattered. Her heart wanted to sing. Roland had to be the culprit—the man was obviously a creep. Everything else made sense now.

  “Monsieur, I was having a nice time tonight until I met your cousin.” She was surprised she spoke the truth.

  His eyes gleamed. “Don’t let him ruin your evening. Would you like something to drink?”

  One drink with Trent couldn’t hurt. “All right. Champagne, please.”

  “Another champagne coming up.” He winked and linked his arm in hers. This time, it appeared he wasn’t going to give her the chance to slip away.

  His touch sent warm sensations sizzling through her.

  After he procured two glasses of champagne from the nearest waiter, he gave her a sideways glance. “Would you like to sit somewhere?”

  In spite of knowing that she shouldn’t—it was a foolish risk—she found herself nodding. She hid a buoyant smile behind her fan at the thought that Trent could very well be innocent.

  She followed him through the French doors onto the patio and into the balmy night. Potted trees, decorated with tiny orange and white lights, were scattered around the expansive terrace. Tables with white tablecloths held lamps with gently flickering flames. The city below was a sea of stars.