“I’m happy with...”
He shakes his head and places his hand over mine. “Optics, darling. I don’t want to see my wife driving a one-year-old Golf; you need an upgrade. Something comfortable, not too flashy, but more benefitting your new station. There’s a new Mercedes-Benz convertible I have my eye on, I’ll arrange a test drive.”
Chapter Four
Marco
Robert has a cushy deal. He has his own apartment in the courtyard at Casa Nostra, and fully fitted out apartments for his occasional use at all of Montgomery Patten’s residences worldwide.
I arrived at the Hamptons house before nine to be met by Stephen. He took me to the chauffeur’s apartment over the garage which has every amenity I could reasonably expect, and some that I might not: a pool table, a jacuzzi tub and a state of the art TV with built in surround-sound. I guess Robert spends a lot of time lying around waiting to be called on.
Stephen introduced me to the Rolls. A beautiful Phantom in peak condition. There’s a large teak box in the garage containing pristine chamois, special wax, and a collection of soft-bristled brushes to keep every inch of the car spotless too. You’ve got to respect a man who takes care of the beautiful things he owns.
After unpacking, I dress in the uniform I was presented on taking the assignment. Black Boss suit. White Thomas Pink shirt. Gray silk Valentino tie. Black silk socks. Salvatore Ferragamo ‘Granprix’ driving shoes.
I look sharp. Here’s hoping Mrs. Patten thinks so too.
I report to Stephen, who leads me inside to meet my employers. The overwhelming impression this house imprints on the senses is that of space and light. Walls are painted either white or the palest shades of gray and sand. The floors throughout are parquet, in subtle shades of pale and honey wood. Given Montgomery Patten’s age, I’d expected more of an old man feel to the place—leather, darker colors, heavy drapes. But the house is a revelation in its elegance and simplicity. This is the sort of beach house I’d have if I had all the money in the world.
Stephen stops me at the entrance to the sitting room. He walks forward to the couple seated on the sofa. My eye is drawn to the glass wall with open doors and the view of sand and sea beyond. A million dollar view. A billion dollar view.
Then Stephen calls me forward.
Montgomery Patten stands, and his new wife gets up too.
“This is Marco Vitale, Robert’s replacement.”
“Marco. Pleased to meet you.” He glances at the woman by his side. Clasps her hand. “This is my wife, Kristie.”
It’s hard not to stare. Because Kristie Patten is not what I was expecting. I guess my expectations were colored by my family’s experience of the thirty-year-old gold digger who snared my grandfather in the final years of his life, but Kristie is no hard, polished, worldly woman. She’s barely more than a girl. She looks less sophisticated than the women I date. Makeup free, she wears a simple pair of shorts that emphasise the length of her tanned legs and a T-shirt that could be picked up at any local store. Her long blonde hair curls around a delicate face. Pretty green eyes. She has a mouth some might consider a little too large but it’s one-hundred percent natural, not plumped up by cosmetic surgery.
“Hello, Marco.” Her voice is soft. Gentle. Everything about this girl screams innocent. She looks like the sort of person who likes playing with kittens.
“Madame.”
“Call me Kristie.”
Her mouth curves, and my heart double taps. She turns to her husband—I need to remind myself he’s her husband, not her grandpa.
“How many times have I said that today already?” The smile widens to a grin. “My husband should be addressed as Mr. Patten...”
“Or sir,” Stephen adds.
“But I really can’t bear to be called Madame, and I’m not used to being Mrs. Patten, so, please, please call me Kristie.”
“Kristie.” I want to smile back. I want to do more than that. I’d like to flirt with her, right here, right now. If things were different, if we’d met at a party as strangers, I’d be buying her a drink and asking her for a dance. I’d be concerned that I’m too old for her. Even though there’s only five years between us, rather than the fifty-nine years between her and her husband.
“You have settled in to the accommodation?” Montgomery asks.
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
His gaze sweeps me head to toe, and apparently, what he sees meets with his approval. He frowns a little at the length of my hair but cutting it wasn’t an option. I wear it longer than collar length, but not excessively so. It curls like a bitch, so when I have it shorter, it looks ridiculous.
And looking good is part of my job—so...
“We aren’t planning on leaving the property today, so feel free to change into more casual attire.” He smiles. “And do let Isabel know if you need anything.”
“You have a very beautiful property, sir.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He acts as though he’s only just realized the gem he owns. “You should explore. There’s a path from the garage straight down to the beach. Glad to have you as part of the team—albeit temporarily.”
He smiles, then looks behind him, estimating the distance to the sofa. Kristie takes his arm and helps him sit.
I’m dismissed.
I hope he doesn’t really love her. Because if he does, her betrayal is going to sting.
Chapter Five
Kristie
I’m trying hard to de-stress. To prepare for what will happen when we get back to Casa Nostra, Montgomery’s house just outside New York. Here, at least, there’s a break from the family, but when we return there will be no escape from any of them. The practice of all living together in one house—Montgomery; his three children: Charles, Felicity and Amber; and Felicity and Amber’s husbands—is positively archaic.
Luckily, the house is less house and more mansion. It’s possible to spend a week without seeing another member of the family, except at mealtimes. They all know me, of course. But as the help. Not as a member of the family. I’m not kidding myself that I’ll be welcomed with open arms—I know darned well I’ll have to watch my back. Because one member of the family has murderous intent. They’ve already proved that.
But which one? Charles is divorced and lives in the west wing. He’s aloof, but has always treated his father with respect. Felicity, younger than her brother at fifty, is married to Sebastian. Their daughter, Sarah, has escaped the family fold to her own apartment in Dumbo. Then there’s Amber. No kids, three ex-husbands, and her current, the drop-dead gorgeous Jerry.
Marrying a man old enough to be my grandfather would be my mother’s nightmare. I’m glad she’s beyond dreaming.
We’ve been on honeymoon here almost a week. Montgomery has a regular routine. Breakfast, read the newspapers, lunch, nap, lie in the sun for half an hour, bath, dinner, bed. By ten, the house is silent as a grave. I wish I could turn off and go to sleep at ten, but there’s no way—my brain is buzzing, and night after night, I’m awake into the early hours turning over options in my mind.
Montgomery’s tucked up in bed. The TV that rises from the bottom of the bed with a press of a button is up and on, tuned as always to a news channel. The volume is high.
“Want to join me?” Montgomery waves to the empty expanse of bed next to him. “Catch some news?”
I want that like a root canal.
I shake my head. “I’m going down to the gym.” Half an hour running on the treadmill will leave my body exhausted, may quiet my mind enough to get some much-needed sleep.
“I guessed.” His mouth curves in a smile as his gaze sweeps my outfit. Light pants, because it’s too hot even at ten o’clock at night for sweats. Sneakers. T-shirt. “Have a good workout.” And just like that, his attention is back on the screen before him. He points the remote and edges the volume up another couple of notches.
There are two keys to the bedroom door. One lies on the bedside table on Montgomery’s side, and the other,
I carry. I lock him in before I leave.
Moving through the dark, silent house, I’m glad there’s a form of distraction available to me without going outside. Once upon a time, I’d have thought nothing of walking on the beach at night, but now the vegetation is full of imagined dangers. There could be an attacker waiting to strike. I’m hypervigilant by design, there can be no throwing off the shell of watchfulness that formed around me once the wedding date was set.
Even in the comparative safety of the Hampton’s house, the air seems thick with menace that won’t ease until someone dies, or this situation is resolved. I want to keep him safe; I have to keep him safe, failure is not an option. A knot tightens in my stomach at the very thought of failure. Of disappointing at my first solo assignment. There’s no way in hell I’d admit it to anyone, but I’m stressed—working with a target on my back without a colleague is draining.
The lights are on in the gym. I approach slowly, senses on full alert, and push the door open. Marco is working out on the rowing machine. The muscles of his naked back flex and strong muscular arms pull the oars in a regular rhythm that shows how beautiful the human body can be in motion.
The earbuds in his ears mean he doesn’t realize I’m here. I could walk in front of him—no doubt almost giving him a heart attack, or...I flick the light off, then on again.
Marco rips the earbuds from his ears. His eyes widen. The tinny noise of music blares from the earbuds. If he continues listening to music at that volume, he’ll be as deaf as Montgomery when he’s eighty.
“Kristie.” He’s off the machine in a flash. Rubbing the back of his neck.
It’s rude to stare, but damn. Broad, tanned chest. Lickable abs. Powerful legs. And wearing nothing but a pair of black shorts and sneakers. If the devil sent temptation, this is what it would look like. I try to keep my jaw from dropping, and focus on his eyes.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be down here this evening. Stephen told me it was fine to use the gym after hours.” He grabs a towel and drapes it around his neck. “I’ll go.”
“No. There’s no need. I planned to use the treadmill. Please, don’t let me disturb you.”
“You’re sure?” There’s nothing wrong with the way he looks at me. He doesn’t leer or check me out, but goosebumps rise on my skin. Maybe it’s because he’s half naked. Maybe it’s because we’re alone in a silent room. Or maybe it’s just the clash of pheromones, the fact I haven’t had sex in a year, and this man would tempt a nun.
“Absolutely.” I walk over and turn on the radio. Eighties pop. Fine, I can work with that.
Marco’s returned to the machine, moving back and forward at a punishing speed. He has plenty of stamina.
Jeez. Just stop. It’s never going to happen. I set up the treadmill and start walking to warm up my muscles. The machines are parallel to each other, so if I keep my eyes focused straight ahead, I can only glimpse him in my peripheral vision. I up the speed to a jog, then after a couple of minutes, nudge it faster. There’s something wonderful about running. The way that once you get into it, once you’re past the first awkward floundering, the body starts to work the way it should. Muscles pump, breathing becomes more deliberate and deep. At the level I’m working—comfortable, rather than breakneck—I’m putting in no effort, I’m just along for the ride. My mind is free to wander. I cast a glance to my left. Marco is watching.
He looks away, but not quickly enough. There was heat in his gaze. Lust. I’ve seen that look often enough to recognize it in a heartbeat. Hell, I’ve delivered that look. He’s a big guy. And we’re alone. If...
I breathe deeply. Try to scent danger in the air. Being here with him could be dangerous. I’m not afraid, but someone walking in here could form the wrong impression entirely. Or imagine if Stephen or Isabel were to see us leave the gym this evening—Marco hot, sweating, and half naked. Me disheveled to say the least. They might jump to the conclusion that we’d been in here fucking our brains out.
My torso flushes with heat.
This is my husband’s house. I won’t be driven out of the gym by an employee.
He offered to leave, and I should have taken him up on his offer. I wouldn’t even have had to say anything, I could have just nodded regally, and he would have walked away. But I know how much I need this—and the way he’s punishing the rowing machine makes me feel he has similar demons driving him.
He looked at me with lust. Big deal. I’m guilty of the same offense.
Chapter Six
Marco
Getting caught staring is a dick move. I’ve been in the business long enough to be able to watch a woman without her noticing, but with Kristie I’m off my game. She’s a natural runner, someone who looks as though she jogs often and enjoys it. I can try and fool myself that I’m just appreciating her sportsmanship but why bother—I’m mesmerized by her body.
My job involves getting close to her, but I don’t want to move too fast. I’d seen the flash of interest as her gaze scanned my chest. I’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to not notice the sexual tension between us. The spark of electricity in the air that hints at an explosive chemistry dying to be explored.
When she arrived in the gym, I’d done a pretty good job of banking my reaction to her. To act as though I was unaffected by her presence. But the truth was something else entirely. And when she glanced across the room to catch me staring, she’d known the truth.
I’m used to being in control. To knowing exactly how to play a target. This isn’t my first assignment, so why am I making stupid mistakes like a damned rookie?
I run a hand over my hair. Roll my shoulders forward, then back.
I’ve been working out for close to an hour, rowing so hard I’d be halfway across the ocean by now if I were in a boat rather than on a damned machine. My muscles are beginning to ache.
Kristie looks as though she’s had enough too. We leave our respective machines at the same time.
“Will you be here tomorrow?”
She darts me a startled glance; eyes wide. Shit, I sound keen to get her alone again, the very opposite of what I intended. “I just mean, if you’re exercising here at the same time tomorrow, I should plan not to be here so you can work out in peace.”
“I really don’t know whether I’ll be using the gym tomorrow night or not.” She stares into my eyes. “I don’t have a problem sharing the space with you.” Her gaze flicks to my chest then back up to my eyes. “Although for decorum’s sake it might be better if you were clothed.”
“I often run on the beach in the evenings. Or swim. But tonight it looked as though there might be rain so I chickened out and took the safe option.”
“I work out different ways in the evenings too.”
I can’t tell if she’s alluding to her married status or not. And I really don’t want to think about her getting it on with my employer’s father. I should leave it. But I can’t resist a dig. “I imagine so—what with you being a newlywed and all.”
Kristie pulls herself up to her full five foot three or thereabouts. Her jaw is tight and her eyes flash. “I could have your job for that comment.” She plants her hands on her hips.
I nod. “You’re right, Kristie. I apologize. That was out of line.”
She darts me a look before she heads for the door. “If you see me coming into the gym and you’re here, leave. If you see me walking onto the beach while you’re lying on the sand, I suggest you do the same. I’m a married woman and my husband is your employer. You need to treat me with respect.”
Over the next couple of days, I do exactly as requested. She likes to use the gym at night, so I use it early in the morning. She runs on the beach in the morning, so I stay out of her way. On times that we meet, I act friendly, but not too friendly, and she’s coolly professional and courteous.
A casual observer would say she treats me just as she treats everyone else in the household. And that’s what rings so false about the situation. She doesn’t ever seem
to relax. She’s hyper vigilant and tense all of the time. Her body language betrays her, even though the perfect smile on her face never fades. Under normal circumstances, I’d be giving her a five out of five for fidelity—she shows no inclination to flirt with anyone. Not even her husband.
But there’s something else going on here. She seems isolated. Without friends to celebrate her newly wedded status, or make arrangements to meet. Her entire focus is her husband. She fusses over him, making sure he has everything he needs, like a devoted carer.
If it weren’t for the flash of interest when she looked at my half naked body in the gym, I’d almost think I’m not her type. But I saw the lust in her eyes. I’ve tried playing it cool and it isn’t working, I’ll have to switch tactics.
I’m just in from the beach and about to head to the shower when Brian calls to check in. “News?”
I like to win. Admitting I’ve made no headway is more than a little irritating. “Nothing yet.”
“It’s been three days. Charles rings every day wanting updates. I’ve held off from calling you...” Brian clears his throat.
“It’s a difficult assignment. Different to our regular types of cases.”
“What’s your gut feeling?”
I think for a couple of seconds. “She seems to genuinely care about her husband.”
“They sleep in the same bedroom?”
“Yes, and there’s only one bed.” There’s a bitter taste in my mouth. I’ve had to check out the sleeping arrangements as part of my assignment, and seeing the mussed double bed gave me no pleasure. “She seems uncalculating. I’d almost go so far as to say innocent.”
“Innocent?” Brian sounds surprised. “So you don’t believe she’s after his money?”
“I can’t tell. She’s a difficult woman to read. She finds me attractive, but she’s resistant. I have to change my approach.”
“Charles wants you to stay on until the job is done. I’ve told him that’s not the way we work. In my opinion, she’s had plenty of time to respond to you, I’m on the verge of pulling you out.”
The Gold Digger Gambit: A Honeytrap Inc. Romance Page 2