The Gold Digger Gambit: A Honeytrap Inc. Romance

by Tabitha A Lane

  She takes a sip of her martini. “Montgomery is possessive. He grew up in a different era. I can guarantee an open marriage would not be something he’d agreed to. If Sarah and Robert were having an affair, it would have been clandestine.”

  A few minutes later, an older lady makes straight for us. She’s smartly dressed in a dark blue suit, hose, and high shoes. Her white hair is cut in a stylish bob. She stops at the table.

  “Good evening.” Her mouth curves in a welcoming smile. “I’m Elvira; this is my restaurant. I wanted to just come over and introduce myself and welcome you.” She focuses her attention on Kristie. “I was delighted to see your name in our appointments book Mrs. Patten. The previous Mrs. Patten used to lunch here often.”

  “Yes, Marco and I were just talking about that.” Kristie darts me a glance. “May I introduce my chauffeur, Marco Vitale.”

  Elvira clasps my hand. “Robert has retired then?”

  I shake my head. “No. He’s on vacation. I’m just standing in for him for a few weeks. I’m enjoying the perks of the job though.”

  Elvira’s eyes flash. Her mouth purses. I somehow get the impression she thinks I’m talking about perks called Kristie.

  “It’s not often in my line of work that I get to drive such a beautiful car.”

  Elvira’s expression softens.

  Kristie clears her throat. “I’ve been told Robert and Sarah always lunched together. They must have become great friends.”

  “He was devoted to her. Totally devoted. I went to her funeral of course and Robert was devastated at her loss. They had to employ a replacement driver that day as he was in no state to drive.” There’s a far away look in her eyes. Then she catches herself. Remembers that she is talking to the new Mrs Patten and maybe she’s said too much.

  “But I’m interrupting your lunch.” She extends a hand to each of us in turn. “Please, continue. So nice to meet you Mrs Patten. Mr Vitale.”

  The waitress takes our orders. I choose a steak and fries, and Kristie decides on the chowder.

  “So, Marco, your accent isn’t New York, where are you from?” She looks genuinely interested.

  I’ve never been treated to lunch by a woman before. I’m used to taking the lead and paying the check. But she’s my employer, and doubtless finding this situation unusual too.

  “I grew up in Seattle, and I still live there.”

  “But you’re with a New York Agency?” She smiles. “Charles found you, is that right?”

  I don’t think I’ve ever been interrogated so prettily. But she’s definitely digging. Maybe at long last I’ve piqued Kristie’s interest.

  “Yes. To both.”

  The waitress approaches carrying my steak in one hand and the chowder in the other.

  She places the plate down in front of me, then turns and takes a step, and something happens so quickly I’m hazy on the details.

  “Oh God!” the waitress cries, as the entire bowl of chowder upends on Kristie’s lap.

  Kristie yelps, and her hands fly up to cover her mouth.

  “I’m so sorry!” The girl can’t be more than twenty, and she’s in full-on panic mode, retrieving the bowl and gazing at the mess.

  “It’s okay.” Kristie’s voice is calm, soothing. “It’s okay. It’s warm, not hot. You didn’t burn me.” She takes the bowl out of the waitress’s shaking hand. “Hold on for a moment and we’ll get this sorted out.” She gives the waitress a gentle smile, then turns her attention to me.

  “Marco, can you bring me some of those new clothes from the car? I bought jeans and a couple of shirts.”

  She turns to the girl. “Could you show me where the bathroom is? I’ll just nip in there and clean up. If you meet Marco outside he can give you the change of clothes you can bring in to me.”

  She takes a spoon off the table and scoops the worst of the mess into the bowl. “Urgh.” She looks down at her sodden lap.

  Then she gestures for me to lean in so our heads are almost touching: “This is so not in your job description, but could you bring some new underwear too?”

  When she joins me at our new table fifteen minutes later, she’s fresh and gorgeous in the spinach green silk shirt and dark indigo jeans that emphasize her waist, and cling to every curve of her ass. I try not to think of the sea green satin and lace panties I know she’s wearing beneath the jeans.

  The moment she sits, a waiter is there with a martini, and seconds later, a different waitress brings us new platefuls of food.

  Kristie leans back and looks up at her. “Thank you. Where’s the other waitress?”

  “Miss Elvira thought you’d perhaps be more comfortable...”

  Kristie shook her head. “I’m very happy to have you serve us if the other waitress is busy, but I would like to have a word with Miss Elvira when she’s available, please.”

  My grandfather’s wife is prone to extravagant displays of temper, usually against those who depend of her for their livelihood. Had my ex fiancee been covered in seafood chowder, you’d have heard her shrieking right out into the middle of the ocean.

  Kristie had handled the whole situation with humor and grace—or so I thought.

  But rather than just curse at the girl, she’s going straight to the top to make a complaint.

  “This is delicious, how’s yours?” She beams her megawatt smile, and I have to struggle not to be dazzled by the light she casts. Have to remind myself that she may look like an angel, may give the impression of being someone who cares, but she isn’t. She’s doing what she does best. Charming people so she gets what she wants.

  She’s a gold digger.

  “You don’t need to do this.”

  She looks at me as though I’ve grown another head. As though I’m crazy. “Eat lunch?” Her mouth turns up at the corners in that heart stopping smile that makes me feel she’s worth every penny her husband paid for her. “I beg to differ on that. I’m starving.”

  “You know what I’m talking about, Kristie...it was an accident. Okay, there’s some dry cleaning involved, but apart from that you escaped easy.”

  She frowns. “What are you—” The rest of the sentence is lost as Elvira walks stiff-legged to our table.

  “I have just been informed.” The old lady holds on to the back of an extra chair. “I’m terribly sorry. Of course, your meal will be complimentary. Is there anything else I can do to make up for this unfortunate incident?”

  “Could you spare me a couple of minutes of your time?” Kristie indicates the spare chair. “Please, join us.”

  Elvira nods regally. I stand to pull the chair out for her and she flashes me a grateful glance as I settle her in it. As though we’re partners in crime—both servants to the mighty Patten dollar, somehow allied in servitude.

  It pisses me off, big time.

  “The waitress has been reprimanded.”

  Kristie takes a long swallow of her drink, then leans back and crosses her arms. “Here’s the thing.” She fixes our companion with a determined stare. “That’s not what I want to happen.”

  “What do you mean?” Elvira’s back was already ramrod straight, but it stiffens just a little more. “You want more?”

  A quick exhale. Then Kristie shakes her head. “No. No, you’re not understanding me.” She runs her hand through her hair. Reaches for the glass again, but then stops short and changes direction to fiddle with her silverware instead. “The waitress did nothing wrong. She shouldn’t be punished for an honest mistake.” She puts down her fork and drops her hands into her lap. “You sent us another waitress. I wanted to talk to you to make sure that you understood that this was a simple mistake—a mistake anyone could make. She wasn’t to blame, and I want to ensure she isn’t docked pay or finds her job in jeopardy because of this.”

  Elvira’s eyes widen.

  “I know of people who have lost their jobs in situations like these. And the waitress—” She breaks off with a questioning look.

  “Annie.”

&n
bsp; “Annie.” Kristie smiles. “I’d like Annie to continue being our waitress, to show that this really wasn’t such a big deal.”

  Elvira breathes in and out, and there’s a sheen in her eyes. As though emotion is fighting its way to the surface. “You are a remarkable woman, Mrs Patten. Annie was devastated about spilling chowder on you, and was reprimanded by her supervisor. She’s fresh out of college and has only been working here for three months.” Elvira glances my way, then back to Kristie. “She’s also my granddaughter. So I really appreciate you being so generous about everything.”

  A couple of minutes later, we’re alone.

  “I think you’ve made a friend for life there.” From across the room I can see the spring in the old lady’s step, the difference in her body language evident in the relaxed set of her shoulders as she talks to her staff.

  “You thought I was going to be a total bitch and insist she be fired, didn’t you?” Kristie sips her drink, gazing at me over the rim from lowered eyes like a flirty princess. “You really thought I was that sort of person.”

  I could try denying it, but fuck—yes, I did. “You never really know someone.”

  “So, what, presume the worst? That—” she holds up the glass to toast me “—is fucking harsh. Someone sure did a number on you.”

  “You think so.”

  “I know so.” She bites her bottom lip. “You’re good at hiding things, but there’s a muscle that twitches when you’re stressed.” She wags a finger in the direction of my jawline. Close, but not close enough to touch. “It’s a dead giveaway.”

  “When have you seen me stressed?”

  “When we first met. When you met me and my husband.” She straightens. “Am I right?”

  “You’re not who I thought you were.” She’s confusing. Contradictory. She leans across the table, and there’s a sparkle in her green eyes.

  “Because I showed compassion?”

  “She ruined your outfit.”

  She shrugs. “Clothes don’t matter. I have more than enough after our shopping expedition.” She eases her half empty bowl away, picks up her glass, and drains it. “I was a waitress once.”

  It all suddenly makes sense. “You lost your job?”

  “I knocked a customer’s side plate onto the floor walking past the table in a crowded cafe. Nothing like this one, it was a real dive. But I lost my job when the guy complained. I had rent. I had bills to pay, and suddenly no way to pay them.” There’s a darkness in her, remembering. “I bounced back, found another job. Survived. But that feeling...” She shudders. “I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else feeling powerless and desperate—as I did then—on my account.”

  “Was there no one who could help you? No family?” I pitch my voice low, and lean across the table. If I were in a bind, my brothers and sisters would bitch about it, but any of them would help me out in a heartbeat.

  “There’s only me and my dad. My mother died when I was young.”

  “And you didn’t want to go to him—I guess you wanted to show him you had everything under control.”

  Her mouth curves in a smile. “Yeah. My father would bail me out—he wouldn’t even think twice about it. But he’s always believed I need his help; I guess he could be described as overprotective. And I did just about everything to prove I was able to support myself.”

  “And now?”

  She picks her napkin from her lap, and places on the table. “Now I’m a grown-up. I don’t need my father’s approval any longer.”

  “Was he at your wedding?” Would an overprotective daddy be relieved or appalled that his daughter had tied herself to an elderly billionaire? I’m pushing the boundaries she’s established—something I should be doing in my goal of becoming her confidant and breaking down the walls between us to tempt her to cheat—but for a purely selfish reason. I want to know the answer. I want to try and understand why she’s married.

  “We had a very quiet ceremony. None of either of our families attended.” She shoves a skein of silky hair behind one ear. “I think I’ve had enough of this place. Let’s skip dessert and get out of here.”

  Chapter Ten

  Marco

  The lines are blurring. Honeytrapping is a predictable business, which follows a standard pattern. One: meet the target. Two: Be irresistible. Three: Lead into temptation. Four: Collect evidence.

  Five: Job done.

  For the first time in my professional career, I’m having trouble with step three. And what’s worse, she’s slipping under my armour. I’m in danger of actually liking Kristie despite what I know about her, and that’s making it more difficult to do the job I’ve been paid to do.

  It’s early days, but things are moving in the wrong direction. She’s beginning to treat me as an ally—the divide between our positions is too wide to call us friends, but she showed me a side of herself normally hidden, and dammit I got sucked right in.

  I’m on duty in fifteen minutes, driving them to the party, so there’s just enough time to call the office and report on progress.

  Brian answers as though he’s sitting right next to the phone. “Marco. Are you ringing to tell me you’ve had a breakthrough?”

  I’ve never taken so long to close a case before so his response is anticipated. “No. Just checking in. I’m taking them both to the party in a couple of minutes.”

  “So she’s not showing interest yet.”

  “Come on, I only talked to you about this a few hours ago. Was Charles busting your balls again? Give me a chance.”

  “I’m just covering all our bases. I guess there’s a possibility you’re not her type. Perhaps she’d be a better target for Chris?”

  My shoulders stiffen. Even the thought of someone else hitting on Kristie makes me angry, territorial. Breathing deep, I try to lower my heartbeat and smother my reaction.

  Brian’s suggestion that my colleague, Chris, the sexy Australian surfer, might be the key to unlocking our target is nothing out of the ordinary. Everyone in the agency is familiar with the swapping-out approach. No matter how irresistible any member of the team considered themselves, there’s no denying chemistry.

  “I’m her type.” The truth made me sound like a macho jerk. “Chris would do no better.”

  “So you’re saying she loves her husband?” There’s disbelief in Brian’s voice.

  “She’s just married. Maybe I could come back at her in a few months, once the honeymoon period is over.”

  “Charles Patten hired us to test her. Not to form a goddamn relationship. Trying again in a few months is fucking entrapment. No dice. It’s now or never.”

  “Fine. Like I said, it’s early days yet. Let’s see how she reacts when we return to New York.” I’ve never failed on a mission, and I’m not about to fail now. I look out of the window into the darkening evening, and check my watch. Yesterday, I started to feel something for her. Started to let my logical brain be overcome by emotion. I’ve been on that slippery slope before.

  “I have to go. I’m driving them to a party tonight. I’ll report back when I have news.”

  The car was to be ready at seven, but it’s five to eight by the time my employers leave the house and stroll to the Rolls. Well Kristie strolls to the Rolls. The old guy shuffles in her wake.

  Kristie unadorned? Sexy as hell. Every day so far, she’s dressed casual and gone makeup free. Tonight, she’s transformed. Her hair tumbles in soft waves over her bare shoulders. I’ve no idea how the hell her dress stays in place, but by some couture miracle the emerald silk drapes her curves in a style made famous by Greek goddesses of yore. A swathe of material flows over one shoulder, and the other shoulder is bare. Her eyelashes are long and lush and she’s done some magic with shadow and glitter that emphasizes her eyes.

  Helen of Troy would shove her off the nearest cliff.

  Once Montgomery is safely ensconced, I close the car door and take my place behind the wheel. At least I don’t have to wear a fucking chauffeur’s cap.
<
br />   There’s no privacy screen in the Phantom, but they talk so quietly I couldn’t make out their conversation even if I wanted to. So I focus my attention on steering the beautiful car through the twisting mountain roads.

  The Kings, aptly enough, live in a palatial hillside mansion. The curve of the sweep outside is filled with a long line of cars waiting to deposit their expensive cargo at the front steps.

  Montgomery scoots forward and points ahead. “The exit is to the right, but if you veer left once you’ve dropped us, you will find an area the Kings usually designate for parking. Follow the other drivers into the kitchen; there will be refreshment set up there for you.”

  I nod.

  “I’ll send for you when we’re ready to leave.”

  The car ahead reaches the steps and stops. The driver rounds the car and holds the door open so his passengers can alight.

  “Oh good. The Jenkins.”

  In the rearview mirror I see Montgomery pat Kristie’s arm and have to bite back the urge to snap at him to take his hands off her. She’s his wife. He can touch her whenever he wants too.

  The car ahead moves off, and I crawl our vehicle into its place. The elderly Kings have spotted the Rolls and are waiting to greet their old friend, and Montgomery is off like a tortoise chasing lettuce to see them before Kristie has even left the car.

  She almost looks scared. And to be honest, who could blame her? She looks beautiful but ill-matched to this group. An interloper.

  I help her from the Rolls, and her hand rests on my arm a little too long. “Okay?”

  Her lips tilt in a smile. “Yes.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  As she pulls her hand away, the clasp of her jewelled bracelet catches on the fabric of my sleeve and tumbles to the ground.

  “I’ll get it.” Then I’m crouching at her feet like a surrendering Spartan.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kristie

  He’s at my feet. And heaven help me, if I take one step forward, his face could be pressed to the thin silk of my Grecian gown. I could feel his breath through the fabric. Could lift it, and feel his mouth on the skin just above my knee.