CHAPTER NINE
Where did Cinderella go this time? Trent tossed his hat, mask, and cape on a table, and surveyed the ballroom to no avail. On the dance floor, Cecilia twirled around in Frank Blake’s arms. She raised her nose haughtily in the air, as if she thought to make him jealous. It didn’t work.
He cornered Darcy, coming off the dance floor. “Where is she?”
She blinked. “Who?”
“The young woman I saw you talking to. Cinderella, or Marie Antoinette, or whoever she’s supposed to be.”
Darcy’s face reddened. “Oh. I think I might recall who you mean…”
“Where is she?” Trent asked, nearly losing his patience.
“S-she… She said something about leaving.”
“Leaving? She’s taking this Cinderella thing too far. I asked her to wait.” He leaned toward Darcy. Her eyes widened, and she stepped back. He hadn’t meant to frighten her, but this was important. “Who is she? I have to find her.”
“Ah, well…”
“Darcy,” he snapped. “It’s a simple question. She was with you. What’s her name?”
“Grace,” she blurted. “That’s it. She’s from France, and she’s probably on her way back there now.”
“Grace who?” he said, through tight lips.
“I can’t think with you standing over me like that.”
Blowing out a deep breath, he backed away. “All right, Darcy, but you either know her name or you don’t. But then…” He narrowed his eyes and frowned. “She does look familiar. Does she work in the building? She reminds me a little of…Dr. Meyers. About the same height, her mouth…” Damn it. He couldn’t, shouldn’t, be seeing Kate Meyers—a woman who hated him and who liked his best friend—in every woman he met.
“Oh, no, Trent, that’s because she’s uh… They’re cousins. Yes, that’s it. And that’s why the slight resemblance. Her last name is…Guckenheimer. I’m sure she’s already on her way back to France. She hardly ever comes to the U.S. She won’t be back for a while. Sorry.”
He contemplated the information. “That explains it. Except for looks, she’s nothing like Dr. Meyers. At least she doesn’t look at me through thick glasses with contempt in her eyes.” He muttered the last to himself, more than to Darcy. He wasn’t surprised he’d been as attracted to Dr. Meyers’ cousin because he’d been attracted to Dr. Meyers from the moment he’d met her, though she preferred Greg. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Trent added, “Never mind, Darcy. When did she leave?”
“About ten minutes ago.”
He strode from the room and stopped by the doorman at the exit. “Al, did you notice a beautiful woman in an eighteenth-century ball gown walking out these doors?”
Al nodded. “Yeah, a real looker. Said she needed the exercise and took the stairs. I was about to go and check on her, because I saw through the glass window that she was heading up, not down, but I got a call. I should also mention that Mr. Sikes took the stairs, too. He looked a little worse for wear, like he might have trouble.”
Trent stalked off toward the stairwell. On the top floor, he was greeted by the sound of something breaking. A female’s screams sent Trent bolting down the hall. He burst into Roland’s office.
Flicking on the bright overhead lights, he found his cousin had Grace lying over his desk, her fist beating against his broad back. The room was in disarray, a powered wig and mask lay on the floor. Her hair partially covered her face.
“Have you lost your mind?” Trent rushed toward them and gripped Roland by the shirt. Grace’s dress, ripped at the shoulder, revealed a heart-shaped birthmark at her neckline, further angering Trent. He hauled Roland off Grace as she sprayed something in his cousin’s face
“Damn, kitten,” Roland whined. A red palm print and scratches graced his cheek. “Why did you have to spray me with that shit?”
Shielding her face with her arm, Grace turned, sending a blast of the same spray directly toward Trent. She hit him in the eyes.
“What the hell?” Trent jerked back. His eyes burning and tearing, he could barely see.
“I’m so sorry, Monsieur Zorro,” she said, her breathing coming in little rasps. “It’s pepper spray.” She moved off the desk and closer to Trent. “I did not mean to hit you with it, too. Just him. He frightened me.”
“I was only trying to kiss her,” Roland slurred.
“Yeah? Looked like a little more than that to me.” Trent grabbed the heavier man by the collar and planted his fist into his bloated face. His cousin slumped, but Trent didn’t release him; rather he held him up.
“She’s yours, too?” Roland snarled. “She came to my office, looking for me to satisfy her.”
Keeping a tight hold on cousin’s collar, Trent turned his ire on Kate. “Is that the truth? You came to his office?”
“Oui, I did,” she said in a low voice. “But I thought it was empty. I only wanted to use a phone to call a cab. His door was unlocked. When I came in, he attacked me.”
“She led me on,” Roland taunted. “Danced with me. Came in here with her little oui, oui, French accent. Said she wanted to see my office,” his cousin muttered, half out of his mind. “Stop trying to run my life, cuz. You’re going to get your day soon, you bastard.”
Trent cuffed Roland on the jaw. When his cousin’s head lolled to the side, Trent eased Roland to the floor. “He has a drinking problem. He might not even remember this tomorrow.”
His knuckles aching, Trent reached for Cinderella’s hand. “Come.”
* * *
Kate’s stomach knotted with dread and she resigned herself to go with Trent. With his firm hold on her hand, she didn’t think he’d let her slip away this time.
In spite of the darkness in the halls and his eyes nearly blinded by pepper spray, he knew his building well. He strode easily down the hall to his office and into his large, private executive bathroom.
She gnawed on her lower lip. Just how much of a glimpse did Trent get of her before she zapped him with the pepper spray? She felt horrible, but she’d had no choice.
Trent clicked on the bright lights. She gaped into the mirror. Oh, God, he would surely recognize her without the mask and wig.
“It’s all my fault,” she whispered. “Everything.”
She had a list of sins piling up, beginning with her lies to get the job, her credentials, her suspicions about him, and her sneaking around the company offices—and now shooting and hurting him with pepper spray.
Bending over the sink, he flushed his eyes with water. “Even if you did go into his office uninvited, there is no excuse for what he did.”
At his misunderstanding of what she had meant, she sighed. “The sting should last about fifteen minutes.” She barely remembered to use her French accent. How had this night come so far that she had ended up in Trent’s bathroom?
While he splashed more water into his eyes, she checked herself in the mirror. With her wig in her hand, her real hair hung in a wild tangle of blond curls down her back. Her ripped gown revealed the top of her lacy bra. She pulled the pieces of the dress together.
Weary of the lies she had gotten herself into for her investigation, Kate choked back a sob. “I’m so sorry, monsieur.”
Trent dried his face on a towel, then turned toward her. “None of this is your fault.”
Ready to confess everything, she tensed and waited for him to denounce her.
He focused on her face. “My eyes are still blurry, but I can see a little better, Grace.”
“Grace?”
“Darcy told me your name. I practically wrung it out of her. I owe her an apology.”
He had not recognized her. Kate released a deep breath and collapsed against the edge of the counter. As much as she hated her stepfather, she guessed years of living with a conman must have taught her some acting skills.
Was there any way she could get out of here tonight without him discovering her true identity?
“Grace Guckenheimer,” Trent sai
d in a reflective tone. “Strange, a German last name… And Grace doesn’t sound French either.”
Her nerves jangled, she nearly choked out a nervous laugh and covered her mouth to stifle it. She coughed instead. “My father was German.” She turned away to hide her burning cheeks. “And Grace is actually short for Gracielle.” She hated herself for lying to him even more.
“And you’re related to Dr. Meyers who works at Farrington Construction?”
That shocked the breath out of her and cut too close to home. “Oui” she said, wincing. Good Lord, she was digging herself in even deeper. How could she ever tell him the truth now? He’d hate her. “Please accept my apology for the pepper spray, monsieur.”
“You were only trying to protect yourself. My cousin was drunk and can be a bastard, but I’ve never known him to try to force himself on anyone before.” Trent held out his hand. “Let’s go into my office.”
A guilty twinge hit Kate as they left the bathroom. “Does the spray sting badly?”
He shrugged. “I’ll be all right. Now, sit here on the couch. Do you want to call the police? You have every right to have him arrested. I don’t care if he is my cousin.”
“I don’t want to call the police. He was drunk and I’m fine,” she said through chattering teeth.
Trent cursed, and dropped beside her on the sofa. “You don’t sound like it. Are you sure?” He folded her into his arms.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world to allow him to comfort her. She pressed her face into his warm shoulder as a sob burst from her throat. How she wished she had never lied to him.
“My vision might be shot to hell,” he said, “but I know when someone is upset. Now, breathe in and out slowly.”
She nodded. He’d been her enemy up until this night. And, really, she had saved herself from Roland with the pepper spray, but leaning on Trent felt good.
As he held her in his arms, she reveled in his spicy scent. She wanted to stay there forever—never wanted to let him go.
He tipped her chin with his finger. “My vision is clearing somewhat. Are you better?”
She swallowed. “Oui.”
She needed to get out of there and fast. As much as she wanted to tell him the truth, self-preservation called out to her. It was likely he would be angry with her—very angry if he knew all of her lies––and she’d experienced his temper before.
However, as long as he couldn’t see her clearly, she stood a chance of getting away with this evening.
His hand touched her shoulder. He swore under his breath. “That bastard. Your dress is ripped.”
Trent released her and stepped to his desk. He returned with a stapler and sat beside her. His fingers grazed her bare skin above the bodice as he pieced the sections of the gown together and stapled them. A shiver ran through her. “We’ll replace the dress, but this should hold until I can take you home.”
“You are a most resourceful engineer, monsieur.”
“How did you know?”
Her cheeks grew warm. “Uh, your cousin said something about that.” To deflect from her misstep, she added in a lighter tone, “I should hope your buildings have more substance than these staples, Monsieur Zorro.”
“Much more. I’ll show you sometime.”
When he leaned in, she moistened her lips with her tongue. She met him across the few inches separating them. His warm firm mouth pressed against her lips. She heard his breath catch in his throat. He took her mouth with his in a caress. Spiraling heat rushed through her entire being. He cupped her face with his hands, while his tongue explored her mouth.
His kiss became more urgent. Her heart raced as she put her palm to his nape. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair and wrap herself around him. She dropped her hand to Trent’s chest and could feel his hot skin and the erratic beat of his heart beneath the fabric.
Her own moan snapped herself out of her daze. Oh, my God, what am I doing? She fought the mad desire rushing through her, tore her lips away, and jumped to her feet. “I must go, Monsieur Zorro. I’ll call a cab.”
“No, don’t. And the name’s Trent, Trent Farrington. Soon as my vision clears, I’ll take you home.”
She clamped her hands over her chest and took a step backward. “I can’t stay, monsieur, and the ride is unnecessary.”
“Then give me your phone number.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“To call you. To go out,” he teased. “You know, on a date.” When she shook her head, he asked, “Why? You’re not married, are you?’
“Non.”
“Engaged?”
“Non.”
“A significant other?”
Her shoulders sagging, she whispered, “Non.” What a tangled web she’d woven. “Pen and paper, monsieur?”
“On the desk.”
Instead of a phone number, she scribbled, “Thank you for rescuing me.” She folded the paper and handed it to him. He slipped the note inside his shirt pocket.
A dull ache settled in her stomach. This night with him could never be repeated. Her coming to the company with lies had gotten her what she deserved. She knew she had likely jumped to the wrong conclusion.
Tears sprang in her eyes. “I have to go.” She turned away and headed to the door.
“No, wait. Just a few more minutes. My vision is clearing.”
“Au revoir, monsieur. I'll find my way home. I’m sorry to have to leave you this way.”
Fleeing down the hall, she heard him shout, “Grace!”
CHAPTER TEN
Monday morning, Kate sat at her desk at Farrington Towers with a hot mug of coffee between her hands. She had kept busy volunteering at the Children in Crises Center on Sunday and had tried her best not to think of Trent, but her thoughts continuously wandered to him.
He’d kissed her. And she had responded—wildly and with all of her heart. She touched her fingertips to her lips.
What had he thought when he’d read what she wrote on the piece of paper? How would she face him today and not give away her emotions or her regret for all her lies?
Should she go to him and confess everything? Her shoulders sagged. He liked her as Grace, but disliked her as Dr. Meyers. What would he think if he found Dr. Meyers and Grace were one and the same—and both were phony? Her spirits plummeted. Most likely he’d hate her even more. Still, she wouldn’t trade that night for anything.
Someone banged around in the outer office.
“Darcy,” Kate called out.
Her friend poked her head through the doorway. “Hi, Kate. Did Trent find you later that night at the benefit?”
“Yes, I did see him. He told me you said my name was Grace Guckenheimer, and that I was related to Dr. Meyers. Where did you ever come up with a name like that?”
Darcy stepped further into the room. “When Trent demanded I tell him who you were, all I could think of was God give me the ‘grace’ to get through this.” A sheepish grin spread on her face. “Then I thought of the strict German nun who taught me in religion class.” She straightened her shoulders. “You’re not mad at me for almost blowing your cover? That’s why I didn’t call you yesterday.”
Kate chuckled. “No. Actually, it was brilliant. I know how demanding Trent can be when he wants something.”
“Yeah, he wasn’t too happy that you left the party.”
“I can just imagine how hard he’d be to stand against if he wanted something.” Kate’s cheeks grew warm. If he ever wanted more from her, she didn’t think she could refuse him. She frowned and didn’t like the direction of her thoughts one bit.
“He said you looked vaguely like Dr. Meyers. I didn’t know what else to say, except that you were cousins.”
Kate grimaced. “That cuts too close to home. But thanks—you saved me.”
“Did you find out anything important for your investigation that night?”
Leaning her elbows on her desk, Kate propped her face in her hands. “Yeah. Something big. I found
out there’s another grandson that I’ll have to investigate—Roland Sikes. Perhaps he’s the one Matt meant when he said ‘grandson.’ Sikes is obviously the black sheep of the family. And I’m no longer sure Trent had anything to do with the accident.”
Was she letting her feelings and attraction for him weaken her resolve and cloud her thinking?
“Kate, I told you Trent wasn’t a cheat. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on him.”
“Yeah, but his cousin is a real monster. Do not let him get you alone.”
“What happened?”
Kate explained Roland’s actions and added, “I need more information on him. He’s in the Sales Department. Seems like he takes a lot of time off, too, but his job would make it easy to order supplies and skim money. I’m going to have to make a visit to the Purchasing Department to see what I can dig up.”
When the phone rang, Darcy reached for the receiver on Kate’s desk. After a moment, Darcy put her hand over the receiver. “It’s Eden Farrington. She says she wants to set up an appointment with you today, in her office—asap.”
Kate’s eyes widened. “What could she want? Tell her I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Darcy hung up the phone, her face concerned and curious. “Kate, have you seen Mrs. Farrington’s assistant, Marc? Not bad looking. The body-builder type. Rumor has it they might be lovers. Melissa, the receptionist at the main desk, said he must like rich, older women by the way he paid so much attention to Mrs. Farrington and not to Melissa. I think she’s saying that because he’s ignored her completely—even though Melissa’s done her best to flirt with him.”
“I haven’t met the man. What’s his full name? I’ll pull his file.”
“Marc Simpson.”
The phone buzzed again. Darcy answered, then put the call on hold and blurted out, “It’s Trent. He’s asking if you’re here.”
Kate groaned and waved her hands. “Oh, my! I can’t face him—not yet. Tell him I have an appointment. I’ll just go a few minutes earlier to see Mrs. Farrington. I’ll have to consider how to handle him.”
Disguised with the Millionaire (Dangerous Millionaires Series Book 2) Page 13