BOSS_His Wealth. His Power. His Demands.

by Maggie Carpenter

  "It's gorgeous out there."

  "It's a great opportunity, but if I accept I'll be a cog in the wheel, not up front driving the machine. My days of answering to men like Bob Harrison are over. The project would be a step up, and I might be wrong about this, but I think my part in it would be a step back."

  "Hmm. Tough. Do you have to decide now?"

  "That's the thing. I'd already passed, but I just got an urgent message from Senator Hansen. There's a meeting on Wednesday afternoon. He really wants me there, and he really wants me involved."

  "Why?"

  "Why does he want me? Take a look at the email."

  Walking across to the laptop, she leaned over the desk and read the short note.

  "I assume these are preliminary talks. No contracts have been signed, no bids made."

  "Right."

  "I know it means we'd have to leave tomorrow, which is a major bummer, but you should go. Can I give you a suggestion?"

  "Absolutely."

  "At the end of the meeting, take him aside and tell him what you want. It doesn't matter if that's the whole enchilada, or a specific piece. If he agrees, then great, if he doesn't, walk."

  "But the other players, Colleen, they're—"

  "They're what? Richer? Older? So what? Or don't you think you can do the job?"

  "It would be challenging, but yeah, of course I can."

  "Then spell out your terms and let the chips fall where they may. What was it you said about buying a pair of shoes?"

  Tony broke into a huge smile, then hugged her tightly.

  "I think I just fell in love with you all over again."

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Although Chelsea was still sick, she woke up insisting on going to the police. Seeing her anxiety, Frank acquiesced. He called Detective Joe Forman, the man in charge of the case, and mentioned he was good friends with Harry Gilford from vice. It broke the ice, and after chatting for a few minutes, Frank told him why he was calling.

  "Chelsea wants to tell you everything she knows, and she's insisting she come to the station right away and make her statement. The problem is, she's got the flu. Would you be open to speaking with her here?"

  "Sure. No problem."

  "That's great. Thank you. Dan Gottlieb will be representing her."

  "I know Dan. She'll be in good hands."

  The meeting took place after lunch, and Chelsea knew far more than Frank had realized. When it became apparent she could lead law enforcement to some heavy hitters in the underworld, Dan Gottlieb wouldn't allow her to part with the details until he'd spoken with the District Attorney. Because Chelsea had voluntarily stepped up, and had a clean record, a deal was quickly secured. In exchange for her testimony, she would receive full immunity.

  Winston's address was the first piece of information she offered. Though he was known to the police, it was as a petty thief. They had no idea he was selling stolen goods. She went on to tell them about a drug dealer named Smitty, and his supplier, Glamboy. Like Winston, both were known to Joe Forman, but the gold came when Chelsea told them about the electronics store from which Glamboy ran his business. The detective was astounded. They'd been trying to find his base for over two years.

  "What about Scott personally?" Joe asked as he started to wrap up the interview. "Is there anything we should know?"

  "He might have hurt his past girlfriends," Chelsea replied hesitantly. "I don't want to wrongly accuse him, but he had this thing he'd say, and it gave me the willies."

  "What was that?"

  "One day you'll end up like them. Not breathing. Then he'd laugh and say he was just kidding, but I don't think he was. When I left I took something. He had no idea I even knew about it. If you look in my backpack over there you'll find it. It's a wooden trinket box."

  "Why did you take it?" Frank asked as the detective moved to fetch it.

  "I used to watch Dexter. Do you remember it? That show about a serial killer."

  "Sure I remember. It was great. What about it?"

  "He had those weird slides with the drops of blood, and other killers in the show kept souvenirs. When I saw that box, a chill went right through me. I could be totally wrong, but I think that's what might be in it."

  Detective Forman had returned and handed the backpack to Chelsea. Retrieving the box she lifted the lid, and as she handed it to him, a grave expression crossed his face.

  "Chelsea, I think you were right."

  "You do?"

  "I do. This looks like a trophy box, especially with these newspaper clippings. You're extremely lucky to be here, and taking this was a very smart thing to do. I have a feeling some frustrated families are finally going to be given some peace."

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Collapsing into bed after their delicious dinner at Fera, the hotel's restaurant, Colleen nestled into Tony's body and instantly drifted off. Tony stayed awake just long enough to arrange a wake-up call. When the phone rang in the morning, Tony was glad of it. He'd been in a deep sleep. They were on a tight schedule, and enjoying a quick breakfast, they climbed into a taxi and headed for the gleaming glass towers, the home of Harrods corporate offices.

  "You look like a runway model," Tony remarked as the cab moved them through the busy streets.

  "Only because I'm sitting down."

  "That's not true, and you need to stop selling yourself short."

  "I'm not selling anything. I am short."

  "Why do you have such a fixation on your height? Do you want to be six-feet tall?"

  "No, but it would be nice if I had a inch or two more."

  "You're perfect just as you are. People couldn't take their eyes off you when we walked through the hotel lobby."

  "That's sweet of you to say."

  "It's true. You look fantastic, and you can take that to the bank. Now let's talk about the meeting."

  "I never imagined I'd be pitching to Harrods. I'd love to talk about the meeting. What do I need to know?"

  "When you walk in and meet the guy behind the desk, do it with the belief he's going to love what he hears and sees. Two things to remember. What is expected tends to be realized, and presentation is everything. Ooze confidence."

  "Ooze confidence? How do I do that when I'm shaking like a leaf?"

  "It's time to change your mindset. You're offering them something they don't have."

  "Uh, I think they have cosmetics up the kazoo."

  "But they don't have Colleen O'Connell. See yourself and your company as unique. Believe me, you are, but having said that, let me do most of the talking."

  "Normally I'd say forget it, but you're welcome to the microphone, though I am a bit concerned. What do you know about makeup?"

  "The meeting won't be about makeup. The meeting will be about your sales history, projections, and most of all, the gelling of personalities. Business is all about relationships. The man who got us in here is a Lord. He has tremendous influence. That alone makes us likable."

  "How do you know him?"

  "I was here for a conference and his daughter was at one of the cocktail parties. She was starting to get embarrassingly drunk, so I got her out of there and took her home. Her father was so grateful I thought he was going to put me up for a knighthood. He invited me in for a drink, told me about all the trouble he'd been having with her, and I gave him my thoughts. Apparently my suggestions worked."

  "Just as well. He might have had you beheaded if they hadn't. What did you tell him?"

  "That she was just trying to get his attention. I told him to stop pussy-footing around and give it to her. The carrot and the stick, which in his case was money or no money. Looks like we're here," he declared as the taxi pulled to a stop.

  As Tony paid the driver, Colleen climbed out and gazed up at the shining towers. When she'd handwritten the letter to Tony months before, it had been a Hail Mary. Not only had she scored a touchdown, she'd won the Superbowl and the quarterback's heart.

  "Deep breaths," he said, walking
up and standing next to her. "The meeting will be great."

  "Of course it will. You're here."

  A few minutes later they were sitting in a sleek, modern office in front of a polished white desk. Behind it was a dapper young man named Charles Morton-Jones, and he was looking over the documents Tony had handed him.

  "I like what I'm seeing, but it's a shame about Glow," Charles muttered as if speaking to himself, then raising his head he looked directly at Colleen. "May I see your products?"

  Placing the sample case on his desk, she flicked the locks and lifted the lid. Sparkling eye shadows, glossy lipsticks, shimmering blushes and foundations, were beautifully presented in individual pockets in a black velvet base. A square mirror framed by tiny lights was set into the lid, giving the entire display a glimmering luminosity.

  "This is most impressive," he declared. "Do you have any of your packaging with you?"

  "The photographs of our packaging are underneath the tray," she replied, reaching around the case and lifting it away.

  "This sample case is exceptional. I've never seen anything like it."

  "I'm extremely particular about everything connected to Kiss Me Cosmetics. For example, one of our most unique features is a kit that allows the consumer to change the tint of the liquid foundation. It can be lightened or darkened to suit the circumstances or the woman's mood."

  "I can see why Lord Rutherford was so enthusiastic. Even so, I'm not sure our cosmetics department has room for another brand."

  Studying him, Tony could see he was on the fence, but it was obvious he was captivated by Colleen. As she'd leaned over to remove the tray, her lustrous golden-red hair had cascaded around her shoulders, and her voice had been filled with conviction. He'd told her to ooze confidence, and she had, effortlessly, because she was proud of her products. But while all that was true, Charles Morton-Jones still needed a push.

  "There's something else Kiss Me Cosmetics has that no other company can offer," Tony said assertively. "A secret weapon. Miss O'Connell hasn't mentioned it, probably out of modesty."

  "This sounds intriguing. What is this secret weapon?"

  "Colleen O'Connell herself. She'll be the new face of Kiss Me Cosmetics."

  As Tony paused to allow the information to sink in, he saw a flicker of excitement in the young man's eyes.

  "Obviously she has the beauty," Tony continued, "but more than that, she'll give the product a personal touch lacking in the competition. She possesses the grace and the charm, not to mention the genius, to be another Coco Chanel. That display case is a small example of her innovative creativity."

  While Tony had been delivering his enthusiastic testament, Colleen had moved slowly back into her chair. No-one had even spoken of her in such glowing terms, and though her face was flushed with embarrassment, she'd heard Tony's pride and felt his love. No matter the outcome, it was a moment she'd never forget.

  "Colleen O'Connell," Charles mumbled. "It has what my father would call, unforgettableness. Kiss Me Cosmetics is the same. Was that your idea too, Miss O'Connell?"

  "Please, call me Colleen," she replied, going with her gut. "Yes, it was. When I took over the company it was called Cosmic Cosmetics, which I didn't quite understand. It was already an organic product line, and I assumed that was the connection, but I didn't see it as a name that would resonate with people."

  "Coco Chanel," Charles said with a smile. "With that comparison in mind, you might want to consider a high-end offshoot."

  "It's already in development," Tony said quickly. "Hand-cut crystal jars for a start, and reformulating the Glow cream so it can be incorporated into the foundation."

  "Now that would be a product!" Charles exclaimed. "A foundation that not only conceals flaws, but works to rejuvenate the skin."

  "It's in the early stages so we can't make any guarantees, but we're on the same page. The up-market consumer."

  "I must say, I find this most interesting. I need to take it to my colleagues of course, but it will have my support. Tell me, Colleen, are you ready for fame and fortune?"

  "Ask me that question when it happens."

  "Ah, excellent answer. Leave all this with me. I'll be in touch in a few days. It's been delightful to meet you both. Oh, and Colleen. You should start thinking about branching out into clothes and accessories."

  "A wise person once said to me, one step at a time. It's not out of the realm of possibility, but my focus must stay on the cosmetics for the moment."

  A few minutes later, as they walked from the building, Tony put his arm around her and kissed her cheek.

  "You were brilliant, Colleen."

  "You were the one that was brilliant, but there is a teensy weensy problem."

  "Which is?"

  "I'm not developing an expensive, high-end product line."

  "You are now."

  "I knew you were going to say that, and what about that story you made up about combining the cream with the foundation?"

  "Can you do it?"

  "I have no idea."

  "But you'll find out."

  "Good grief."

  "I said you were looking into it, not that you'd done it, but Colleen, I'm so proud of you. That last answer was perfect. It was what he wanted to hear."

  "How do you know?"

  "I would have asked you the same question. It was a way of complimenting you while making sure you're focused."

  "Tony," she said softly, turning to face him, "those things you said…"

  "I meant every word."

  "I feel funny. Good funny, but funny."

  "That was a big deal. You're on a high."

  "If it happens, if we do end up in Harrods, it will be thanks to you, though I should point out—I never agreed to model."

  "You're not sorry I served you up, are you? It was the push he needed."

  "I'm not sorry at all. That came out wrong."

  "I know what you mean, don't worry. I know I shocked you. It just came to me."

  "Divine inspiration. Now is it back to the hotel and off to the airport?"

  "Crazy, but I'm afraid so."

  "Crazy is what this trip has been about, so having it end this way is exactly right."

  "I'm going to block out a week and we'll do this again, but we don't have to come back to London. You choose where you want to go."

  "That sounds like heaven, but no matter what happens, the things you said and the way you said them…"

  A wave of emotion swept her up, and as a single happy tear managed to escape, Tony felt it too.

  "This is just the beginning," he said softly, hugging her again. "And I'll be holding your hand and spanking your beautiful backside all the way to the top."

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  While Colleen and Tony had been having the time of their lives in London, Scott had been busy making plans to get out of town. He didn't believe Chelsea would have the courage to go to the authorities, but he didn't doubt she'd tell Tony McIntyre everything, and Tony would contact the police. It was time to move on, but he needed cash.

  And there was another problem.

  When he'd hurriedly packed to leave the house, he'd been unable to find his trophy box. The treasure trove had been safely tucked away at the back of his underwear drawer. He'd searched the house in a frenzy, finally deciding Chelsea must have found it and thought the jewelry inside might be valuable.

  To him it was priceless.

  He wanted it back.

  Determined to find it, he knew just where to start. The same place he could pick up the extra cash he needed, and probably where he could find his runaway girlfriend.

  She would pay dearly for her betrayal!

  Jody had been extremely accommodating, and he'd shown her his gratitude. She'd moaned and whimpered as he'd artfully plundered her body, then held her through the long night as he'd plotted and planned. She'd woken up soft and yielding, and he'd smiled his fake smile as he'd slowly fingered her to a powerful climax. Being out of condoms had been
annoying, but when it came to his health he didn't take chances. When she'd left for work, he'd ordered her to buy a packet and not return without them. She'd giggled her promise, and throwing her arms around his neck, she'd kissed him fervently before hurrying off. He would have been happy to recruit her, but that took time, and it was time he didn't have.

  His first priority was dumping the van and replacing it with a nondescript sedan. He started making calls. Winston put him on to someone who ran a chop shop, and over the phone a deal was made. Scott would trade the van for a 2009 Ford Escort. Rummaging through Jody's things, all he'd been able to find was several hundred dollars in a tea caddy. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing, and he headed off to pick up his new vehicle.

  An hour later he was driving up the winding hill to Tony's house.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Colleen and Tony had settled into the plane for the return flight. In the rush to leave the hotel and get to the airport, Tony hadn't been able to check his emails. Opening up his laptop he spied one from Frank with the subject header, From The Believe It Or Not Files.

  "Hey, Colleen, listen to this," Tony said after giving it a quick scan. "It's from Frank. Chelsea spoke to the police and gave them a ton of information about Scott, but they can't find him. There's an APB out for him and the van, but I suspect the van is in pieces by now. They got a hit off his fingerprints. He's in the system. His real name is Gary Rhodes. He was born in rural New York and was a juvenile offender in Manhattan. He's been under the radar for almost a decade. Now for the really big news. Looks like he could be a serial killer. No kidding! Details when you get back. Chelsea is still sick. She's staying with me for the foreseeable future. Safe travels."

  "Holy crap. A serial killer?" Colleen exclaimed. "That's horrifying."

  "You know what's really scary about that, I mean besides the obvious. When I met him he said he was a law student bartending his way through college. He was a fun guy with a killer smile—damn. I didn't mean to say that. What I'm trying to say is, however you imagine a serial killer might look, it's nothing like him."