The Gold Digger Gambit: A Honeytrap Inc. Romance

by Tabitha A Lane

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Marco

  I’m on my second cup of shitty vending machine coffee when Stephen and Kristie arrive. Stephen shoots me a glance, then focuses on Kristie. “I’m going up to check with my security guy to see if Mr. Patten had any unexpected overnight visitors.” He strides off to the bank of elevators at the rear of the marble-floored lobby.

  “I should go up too,” Kristie says.

  “Felicity and Sebastian are still up there with him.”

  If the way her mouth twists is any indication, the prospect of hanging out with her stepchildren is as abhorrent to her as it is to me. “I’ll wait until they’ve finished their visit.” Kristie strolls to the vending machine and searches in her bag for some cash.

  “Save your money, it’s awful.” I take her arm and usher her into a nearby waiting room. There’s a glass panel in the top of the door, so I can see Felicity and Sebastian when they come down, but the empty room gives us at least a modicum of privacy.

  “You briefed Stephen?”

  “Yes.” Like me, she’s frustrated that we found no smoking gun, no definite leads to follow. “Neither of us understand why someone wants him dead so desperately. Why can’t they just wait for their inheritance? It’s not as though Montgomery will live forever.”

  “I think we can assume that whoever is behind the attacks needs money. And they need it now. Your contacts didn’t manage to pull much on Jerry. He’s only been married to Amber for a year. They haven’t visited Montgomery yet, have they?”

  “Amber’s playing the victim. She wanted everyone at dinner last night to know that she was being denied information about his condition, but she still hasn’t bothered her ass to go see him. And Jerry’s so relaxed, it’s as though he’s permanently stoned.”

  “They make a strange pair.”

  “You’re telling me.” She paces across the room, turns, and paces back. “He has a great body, he was a struggling actor when they met. She sat in on his audition for one of the movies she was producing. I looked her up and she has an impressive body of work behind her. She takes her job seriously; some producers buy their way into a film’s credits but she is a professional whose working her way up through the ranks. Unfortunately, Montgomery says it’s something she ‘plays at.’ She stretches out the phrase, lacing it with sarcasm, in a parody of the way she heard him say it. “He’s pretty dismissive of his childrens’ work.”

  “He likes control.” She waved a hand down her outfit: tailored black pants, silky pink shirt with a pussycat bow necktie. “When I arrived at the boutique there were already some clothes choices picked out for me. He’d called ahead and told them what he’d like me to buy.”

  “And you’re on board with that shit?” The thought of a guy dictating to a woman what she should wear is abhorrent. I don’t even want him thinking about Kristie’s body, never mind dressing her like a fucking Barbie.

  “I’m acting a part, you know that. I do what the client wants—within reason. And it’s not as though he insisted I walk around all day in a bikini or something.”

  The memory of the silky panties I’d brought from the car after our shopping expedition hit me square and center. “Did he pick out your panties too?” My voice sounds hoarse.

  Her eyes widen. “What the hell?” She flushes. “No. Montgomery has no say in what underwear I choose, and he doesn’t get to see it either. The only man who’s had his hands on my panties is you.”

  My body reacts predictably at the thought of having my hands on her. I wish we were alone. Anywhere else but here.

  I’m standing with my back to the wall, keeping the window in the door in my peripheral vision. So the moment I see Felicity and Sebastian, I jerk the door open.

  “Ah, Marco. There you are.” Felicity glances at me, but doesn’t bother exchanging words with Kristie. “We’ve asked Stephen to take us back to the house. You can accompany Mrs. Patten.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Sebastian is clutching the briefcase tightly, as though it contains the crown jewels.

  Stephen gives me a quick nod—if he’s learned any intel, it can wait until later.

  It’s time to go see Montgomery. A picture of the Pattens is taking shape. One that varies from the image they portray to the world. An aging patriarch who holds tight control over every member of his family, keeping them close at Casa Nostra. Family, but maybe not a happy family.

  We enter the lift.

  “What about Charles? He seems to genuinely care about his father’s welfare.”

  “As CEO of Patten Industries, he’s in no need of money. His father still has a seat on the board, so I guess he’ll be involved to some extent, but Montgomery has told me he thinks Charles is doing a good job.”

  “The motive might not be just about the money. There could be people he’s upset, someone he’s pushed too far...”

  Kristie shakes her head. “He’s firm, but he’s fair too, for the most part. I can’t imagine him making enemies.”

  “You think that because you play by his rules. You’ve never seen the other side of him. He dresses all of his staff—when I started Stephen told me Mr. Patten was very particular.”

  “It’s normal that you’d have a uniform.”

  “Uniform yes, but he takes it to extremes. My outfit is Patten mandated down to my socks and shoes.”

  We arrive on Montgomery’s floor and step out into the corridor. Kristie is distracted, searching for an elusive memory. “When we first arrived in the Hamptons, Isabel brought champagne out to us on the terrace. She opened it and filled our glasses. Montgomery seemed out of sorts. He thanked her, but kept looking down. Then he said one word, “shoes.” She went bright red, apologized and dashed out of there. She doesn’t always wear the same thing, she has four or five different outfits she wears for work—I hadn’t even considered that maybe her clothing choices were dictated by Montgomery too. I thought him saying shoes and her apologizing was weird at the time, but then I forgot about it.”

  “So staff and wife should appear the way Montgomery wants them to.” I pull her into an empty supply closet. “Let’s check that theory out.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Kristie

  Marco’s hands go to my waist, and he tugs my shirt free.

  “I appreciate the thought, but this is neither the place nor the time.”

  His mouth curves in my favorite smile. The one that makes me feel hot and cold at the same time. “We’re working.” He starts unbuttoning from the bottom. “Testing our theories.” When four buttons are unfastened, he folds it up from the hem, and pulls the two open front parts together and ties them above my belly button. Then he unfastens the sedate bow at my neck, and leaves it open. I’ve gone from respectable trophy wife to midriff-baring harlot in a flash.

  “This looks terrible. You can’t wear a tailored shirt unfasted like this.”

  “I know, you know, and Montgomery knows. But we need to see his reaction.”

  I blow out a breath. “Fine.”

  I expect Montgomery to be perturbed by my appearance. I even expect him to discreetly suggest I rearrange my clothing so I’m not revealing so much flesh. What I don’t expect is for Montgomery to go batshit crazy. But that’s exactly where he goes, the moment he sees me.

  “Come here.” His gaze flicks from my stomach to my face, then back again. Wrinkled hands clutch at the sheet covering him. “Come here, immediately.”

  He doesn’t even acknowledge Marco’s presence. He might as well not be in the room.

  I stroll over, playing it cool. “We saw Sebastian and Felicity on the way in. Did you have a good visit?”

  He ignores my words. “Who told you to wear your shirt like that?” He points at my belly button. “Showing yourself off like a hussy.” His mouth purses. “Get rid of that knot in front, fasten it properly. Tuck it in.” He’s shockingly frank. A real wife would be mortally embarrassed by being talked to like this, especially in front of the chauffeur. />
  “I quite like it.” I pretend like I’m not shocked by his rudeness, and give him a big smile.

  “Change it. Now.” His eyes go cold, and his mouth flattens in a thin, ruthless line. Then his gaze flicks to the man behind me. “Turn your back, afford my wife some privacy.”

  Montgomery’s tone brooks no argument. We’ve seen exactly what we came to see, have had our suspicions confirmed by Montgomery’s over the top reaction, so I don’t protest.

  He jerks his head in a do-it-now nod once Marco has turned around.

  While he watches, I untie the knot, refasten the button and tuck the shirt back into the black pants. “Those bits at the front are to be tied into a bow.”

  I do it.

  He breathes out, and the tension leaves his face. “That’s right. That’s better. You may turn around now, Marco.”

  I must look as I did when I first came in to the hospital. Like a perfect Mrs. Patten.

  “It’s been boring as hell here.” He rests his hand on a pile of paper stacked on the bed tray. “At least Sebastian brought me something interesting to read.”

  “I would have brought you a book, but I have no idea of your tastes,” I say. “What did Sebastian bring?”

  “A report on a project he wants me to invest more money in. Work. Not anything you need concern yourself with.” He pats the bed next to him, encouraging me to sit.

  He’s just humiliated me demanding I change my clothes. I’ve not only complied, I’ve been polite about it. But I’ll be damned if I’ll perch on his bed like a good little wife. Not when there’s a perfectly good armchair next to the bed.

  I sit. Marco walks further in to the room, and props himself up against the wall.

  Montgomery coughs. “I really don’t see the value in staying here in the hospital. I’m feeling much better, and the food is horrible. I want to go home.” He addresses Marco. “See if you can find my clothes, and ask the doctor to draw up my discharge papers, would you. Good man.”

  Marco looks unimpressed by the faint praise. “Have you spoken to your security detail today?”

  “Stephen couldn’t give me a report because those two were here, and wouldn’t give us a second alone. He said he’ll call me later. Why?”

  I scoot the chair closer to the bed, claiming his attention. “You can’t leave.” Because he doesn’t seem to register what people are saying unless they are forceful, I’m adamant. “There was an intruder in our bedroom last night. They rifled my things and left a recording device.”

  Montgomery sits up straighter. “Who was it? Did they hurt you?” He sounds excited rather than concerned for my welfare by the news.

  “They got out of the window and shimmied down the drainpipe. Neither Stephen or I saw them.”

  “A recording device in the bedroom while your husband is away—what could they possibly hope to record?” His gaze is piercing.

  “A phone conversation? Me talking to someone?”

  “You wouldn’t have a man in our room.” His mouth purses. “That would be decidedly unseemly. Especially since you’re a newlywed on her honeymoon. The only man who should be in our bedroom is me.”

  “Of course. Of course.” It’s bravado, all of it. Montgomery wants to make it clear that ours is a real marriage. That he’s the only man in my life. There are things I need to discuss, and can’t with Marco in the room unless I reveal how involved he has become in all this.

  “Could you give us a moment, Marco?”

  I can tell by the way his body tenses that Marco isn’t happy about the idea, but he leaves the room.

  “Stephen saw the intruder enter our room on the hidden camera, but didn’t see him leave. He came into the bedroom with me to investigate. It seems as though our plan is working, with you out of danger, they’ve shifted their focus to me.”

  “There’s still something about it that doesn’t make sense.” Montgomery rubs his forehead. “It’ll come to me.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Marco

  “Can you take the long way home? I’m not sure if I can face being shut up in that house again so soon.” Kristie winds down the window to the fresh summer air.

  I do as she asks, peeling away from the highway down a deserted country road. I don’t know where we’re going, but we’re pointed in the general direction of Casa Nostra and I can always check the GPS if I need to.

  “What did you say to Montgomery back there?”

  “I just let him know what was going on. He doesn’t know about you, so it would be strange if I talked about private business in front of you.”

  I didn’t like the way he talked to her. The way he made her change her clothes, not caring that I was there to witness her humiliation. “It seems like we were right about the way he wants people to appear. He certainly wasn’t happy with the way you looked when you walked into his hospital room.” I cast a glance. “Although you know you looked fucking hot, don’t you?”

  Kristie laughed. “I guess I do now.”

  “Do you want to get lunch somewhere?”

  She shook her head. “Not hungry. I just wanted to do something other than sitting in my room like a goat tethered to a post waiting for a dragon to attack, or being downstairs making casual conversation with my stepchildren. If we were still in the Hamptons, I’d go for a run, but running the roads around Casa Nostra I’d have to be on my guard against a car trying to plough me down.” She smiles, but as another murder attempt is a very real possibility I don’t smile with her.

  “Being out here reminds me of my childhood. When I was going crazy in the summertime—fed up of being cooped up inside—my mother used to pile us into the car and we’d drive out into the countryside.”

  “Did you have brothers and sisters?”

  “I wish I had. But no, I’m an only child. Growing up, it was me and Mom ninety percent of the time. My father was in the military and he seemed to do tours back to back, I don’t remember him being home much. Not until I was in my early teens but by then Mom was gone, so it was just the two of us.”

  “She died?” I know the answer to this question; Stephen told me, but I want to hear the story from her lips.

  “She had a heart attack and died instantly. I wasn’t there. I was in school, but I came home to find her...” She swallowed. Stared out of the window. “I’m sorry; it’s a difficult memory. Dad came home for the funeral and never went back. It must have been hard for him. He lost his wife and was stuck with a teenager he knew very little about. All at the same time as readjusting to civilian life. But we managed.”

  “My mom is alive, but my parents are separated.” I don’t know why I’m telling her this, I guess more to distract from the pain she’s obviously feeling than anything else. “My father got so obsessed with legal matters it consumed him. My mother wanted him to let it go, but he couldn’t, and she couldn’t continue to live like that so... I guess there’s no such thing as a perfect marriage.”

  “That’s a lesson it took me a long time to learn. Oh!” She points out of the window at a faded sign half hidden by overgrown grass. “Turn off there. I know exactly how we can kill some time.”

  Verity Farms. Fruit picking. The words written in peeling paint are barely legible. We head up the track to a rough timber building with a tractor parked outside next to a couple of old pickups.

  “This is one of the things we used to do, Mom and me, when I was a kid.” Once the car comes to a stop, she jumps out and heads towards the building.

  By the time I catch up with her she’s clutching three baskets and chatting to a homely woman sitting behind a counter near the doorway. Not another soul is in sight.

  “There’s nothing better than freshly picked fruit,” Kristie assures me. “You must have done fruit picking as a kid too?”

  I don’t remember going anywhere with my parents. Travelling with a whole gang of kids in tow was both of their ideas of hell, I reckon. Apart from the annual visit from my grandparents, we ran wild. “I’m one of six
kids—even getting us all in a car was difficult.”

  “Six?” Her eyes widen. “Wow, I can’t imagine what it would be like to have so many siblings. Do you all get on?”

  Even with the different stances we’ve taken regarding the fight for the company, I trust my bothers and sisters with my life. “Yes. We fight about stuff, but I wouldn’t be without any of them.”

  “What do you fight about?” Her expression is open, without guile.

  “My grandfather’s will, mostly. The others are obsessed with fighting it. Of getting control of the family business again. It’s all about money.”

  “But if your grandfather built the business...”

  “Great-grandfather. It’s been in the business for a couple of generations.”

  “So it’s more than money. It’s your family’s heritage.” She’s making the same argument my father makes—that the rest of my family makes. And for the first time, I stop being defensive and allow the thought headspace. As a family, we’ve been defined by our wealth—heck, I’ve been dumped due to the loss of it. But my parents’ separation isn’t money related. It’s my father’s anger, his inability to do anything but rail against the injustice of his father’s will that has caused the rift in their relationship.

  “Let’s pick.”

  I take the basket she holds out to me and follow her into the fields.

  “Raspberries and blueberries are in season, and the lady told me it’s our lucky day, because the peach trees are just ready for picking too. Let’s fill a basket of each.”

  I guess this place must be busy at the weekends, but right now it’s totally deserted. The sun beats down on my head, and I feel totally ridiculous dressed the way I am out here in the middle of nowhere.

  “That woman in the shack probably thinks we’re a joke—a couple of city slickers picking fruit on their way back from a business meeting or something.”