Heated Secrets (Rose Garden Apartments Book 1)

by Elizabeth Lennox

  “I’m not losing anything, you little shit!”

  Mikey shrugged. “I got a call from someone at Gataki Industries, who announced they are looking at alternative sites for their employees. Right now, I have five thousand employees who might be leaving my district. Including their families, that’s about twenty thousand people who pay taxes and ten thousand potential voters.” He paused, letting the news sink in. “And Gataki is big enough that if they leave, several others will too. Some smaller, some that will see Gataki’s move and wonder why they would stick around.” He moved towards the doorway. “Apparently, you’ve pissed off a pretty powerful man.”

  Bernard snarled. “I’m a powerful man!”

  Mike moved towards the still-open door. “Sure, you are Bernie…but you’re not in the same league as Gataki,” Mike replied flatly.

  “You need me!” Bernard bellowed.

  Mike snorted. “Nowhere near as much as I need Drako Gataki.” He walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  “Don’t you walk away from me!” he shouted, but Mike continued to walk, ignoring the man who had always seemed all powerful.

  “I agree,” the last senator commented, as he left without saying anything, but his disgust was evident.

  Bernard ground his teeth, furious with Mikey who would be crushed once Bernard figured out how best to do so. Nobody walked away from him! Bernard was the most senior senator, the most respected. When the President of the United States needed something done in the Senate, he called Bernard! Damn it, those fools didn’t know who they were messing with!

  A movement to his right caught his attention and he turned, glaring at the only remaining man, still sitting silently in a chair in the corner.

  “And who the hell are you?” Bernard sneered.

  The man came forward. Bernard knew he was in trouble. His first sign was the bad suit he wore. His lackeys were ordered to get a whole new wardrobe. If his minions didn’t spend at least a thousand dollars on a suit that fit properly, then Bernard wasn’t willing to deal with them. Image was everything, Bernard preached continuously.

  He’d polished his image as a gentleman statesmen for decades! He’d eaten those disgusting meals at nursing homes and retirement communities, charmed the ladies who giggled when he told them how lovely they were. He’d read stories at schools, ignored the disgusting brats when they leaned against him and wiped their snotty hands all over him! Those suits were then burned, because there was nothing worse than snot on a good pair of slacks. Bernard had even gone down to the homeless shelter every damn Thanksgiving to help serve. No way would he eat that swill though! Hell no! He might walk around hugging babies, but when he went home, Bernard showered away the filth before sitting down to a fully catered Thanksgiving meal and admired his pristine family, minus those irritating brats that his wife called grandkids. Yeah, the grandkids looked nice in family photos for the campaigns, but he didn’t want them anywhere near his dinner table!

  Hell, he barely wanted his wife and kids there!

  The man stepped forward, pulling a piece of paper out of the inside pocket of his jacket. “I’m Dean Meyers,” the stranger said. “I work for the FBI. We received word of financial discrepancies in your last campaign, Senator Von Deuch.”

  Oh hell! Bernard numbly took the piece of paper and looked at it. It was a search warrant.

  “But I suspect that we’ll be expanding the investigation. You’ll hear from my office later this week.”

  And then he was gone.

  Bernard slumped back in his leather chair. The search warrant demanded several files.

  “Senator, there are–”

  Bernard lifted his hand, silencing Monica. When he looked out at his office, there was a team of people in FBI jackets sifting through the filing cabinets. Glancing at the search warrant, it said that the FBI was working in conjunction with the Federal Election Commission and listed that they were looking for specific files pertaining to…he blinked, muttering expletives under his breath. The FBI was looking for files on someone else! And he’d just announced about thirty more felony violations that he would certainly be investigated for as well.

  Then something occurred to him. Gataki! Mikey had mentioned Drako Gataki was pulling his employees out of the state? Where had he heard that name?

  When it came to him, Bernard was ready to spit nails!

  “Tell my wife that I’m on my way home.”

  Monica stepped back, understanding that the vile bastard was neck deep in doo doo and sinking fast. She’d never seen him so angry before and she wasn’t sure what to do.

  Monica looked around. She knew exactly where the safe was. And glory be, it was sitting open! Wide open! Holy mother of god, those pictures of her were right on top! Had the senator been in here, looking at them? Had he been…oh gross! She didn’t want to think what the man did when he was alone. Because God knew the man was vile and disgusting enough when he was around other people.

  With a yelp, she leapt at the safe and grabbed the pictures, stuffing them down the waistband of her skirt. There were a bunch of negatives too. Although she wasn’t sure if they were the ones that showed her naked, she grabbed them too, stuffing them into the inner thigh of her pantyhose.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she confirmed that the agents were focused on sifting through the files in the outer office. They wouldn’t find anything out there. Bernard didn’t keep his illegal records in the main office. He wasn’t that stupid. But Monica knew things. Stepping out into the office area, she approached the man who seemed to be in charge.

  “If there is something…specific you’re looking for,” she offered, staring up at him, willing him to understand the words she couldn’t speak. “Perhaps I can help?”

  The tall, scary man looked down at her. His blue gaze moved over her features slowly. Carefully.

  “I don’t think so,” the man replied.

  If Monica had ever thought about flirting with a man, this guy would be her dream candidate. But after working with Bernard Von Deuch for the past six years, she could honestly say that she hated men. She hated sex. Hated anything that had a penis. The things she knew about the senator – and many of his lackeys – made her skin crawl! That knowledge had turned her off sex for the rest of her life. All she wanted to do now was to curl up into a ball with her cat in her safe, quiet apartment, and pretend that the rest of the world didn’t need her. But every morning, she woke up and walked into this godforsaken office, trying to accomplish all of the tasks that the horrible, repulsive pig demanded of her.

  Wanting to help, but knowing that she had to be careful, she glanced towards the pig’s office, then back up at the man in charge. “Does the warrant include the senator’s office?” she asked meaningfully.

  The man’s blue eyes flickered, glancing behind her towards the open double doors.

  “Yes,” he said, wary and cautious.

  “Well, I don’t believe that the senator will be back. Perhaps now would be the time you should go through whatever files that warrant includes.” She said it slowly and pointedly, hoping that the man understood.

  Once again, those interesting blue eyes turned to the empty office. Then back at Monica.

  “I guess we’ll do that,” he agreed, nodding.

  The gesture seemed friendly enough, but Monica knew that he still didn’t understand.

  “There aren’t many files in the outer office,” Monica explained, following him at a careful distance. She had an aversion to being trapped, preferring to keep several feet of space between herself and men who were larger or more powerful. Or both. She’d learned the hard way not to allow herself to be trapped in this office.

  The agent looked around, obviously confused. He eyed the books on the shelf, and then peered in several of the cabinets. Monica knew that the senator kept only liquor in those cabinets. He was heading in the wrong direction, so Monica moved, standing towards the end of the senator’s polished desk.

  “It’s certainly hot h
ere in Washington, DC during July, isn’t it?”

  The guy turned his head, those interesting blue eyes narrowing. They looked at the desk, then at Monica.

  She knew that she wasn’t much to look at. She was frumpy, on purpose, and she wore no makeup. Her hair was a dull brown and she didn’t bother to do anything with it, preferring to simply pull it back onto a rough band at the back of her neck. In other words, Monica wasn’t pretty. She was plain and boring. It was a survival skill that she’d cultivated over the years. This guy probably dated women who were beautiful. Women who were confident and laughed and went to clubs to drink exotic drinks that cost twenty dollars or more. But those women didn’t buy the drinks! NO way! Those women were bought outrageously expensive drinks by men like this one. Men who had good careers and worked out. Men who knew how to play the game.

  Monica knew how to play the game. She’d been taught by the best. But she was a pawn. Not a player. She knew her role. She knew everyone’s role. She’d had to learn fast in order to keep out of danger.

  Tapping her forefinger on the edge of the desk, she tilted her head to the side. “Do you prefer summers or winters, officer?” she asked.

  The man’s eyes never wavered as he continued to watch her. Then slowly, step by step, he moved towards her. Monica’s heart pounded and she tried to control her breathing. When he paused more than five feet away, Monica stepped to the left, moving away from the desk, but not into the corner. Never a corner!

  Finally, the man pulled his eyes away from her and looked down. Finally, he saw the safe.

  “Hey Joe!” he called out, bending down to look inside. He pulled on a pair of protective gloves and started pulling things out of the safe.

  Monica breathed a sigh of relief. He’d found it! She blinked, fighting back the tears of relief as he made room for the crew that poured into the office. Quickly, she stepped out of the room.

  Monica closed her eyes, leaned against her desk, and sighed.

  Chapter 18

  Bernard burst into the house, slamming the door behind him, his fury so all-consuming that he could barely breathe.

  “Janice!” he bellowed.

  Immediately, his wife stepped out of her prissy office, her eyes narrowed with anger. “Bernard, what in heaven’s name are you doing home at this hour of the day? And why are you yelling? The household staff will…”

  “What the hell have you done, woman?” he demanded, spittle flying with every word. “What the hell have you done?”

  He watched as his wife stepped back, her hand to her throat.

  “I can’t imagine what has you so upset, Bernard, but you will not speak to me in that tone of voice!”

  Bernard pushed her back against the wall, his hands gripping her upper arms so tightly that he would probably leave marks. Good. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d marked a woman.

  “What. Did. You. Do?”

  Janice tried to push him away, but he was bigger than she was, and stronger.

  “I do a lot of things,” she snapped. “Perhaps you could be more specific?”

  “Gataki!” he yelled. “What did you do to piss him off, woman?”

  With a surge of fury, Janice found the energy to push her husband away. “Get off me, you son of a bitch!” she hissed. “Drako Gataki,” she spat, “had the audacity to romance Lilliane!”

  “So what?” he bellowed, throwing his hands in the air.

  “So what? The man is powerful, Bernard! He wasn’t controllable! He wasn’t one of the stupid lap dogs that you gather to do your bidding!”

  “He’s a damn powerful man, Janice! And you’ve pissed him off!”

  “So what?” she replied, her voice low and even. “I’m more powerful! And I warned him that I didn’t want him sniffing around our family. Lilliane was falling for the arrogant bastard. He isn’t good enough for us. So I gave him a simple warning to back off.” She breathed in slowly, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles on her dress. “And I told Lilliane that if she didn’t break things off with Gataki, then I would destroy him and his business.” She smoothed a hand over her hair, which still didn’t have a single strand out of place. “I have that kind of power, Bernard.”

  Her husband rolled her eyes. “Think so?” he asked, then waved the search warrant at her, almost smacking her face with it. “I think he just called your bluff!”

  Janice blinked, trying to focus on the paper. But she didn’t have her glasses. She sighed and grabbed the bifocals that she absolutely refused to wear anywhere but in her office. Bifocals implied that she was getting old. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

  As soon as she put them on, the words came into focus. Within seconds, her stomach dropped through the floor. “This is a search warrant?” she asked, turning to glare at her husband.

  “Nothing slips by you, ya stupid bitch!” he snapped, stomping through her office, picking up the Chihuly glass sculpture. He hefted it for a moment, then threw it overhand across the room. It shattered against the wall, shards of colorful glass dancing along the wood floor.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded. “That was a twelve thousand dollar sculpture, you ass!”

  “What the hell were you thinking, challenging Gataki?!” he roared right back. “Do you have any idea of what you’ve brought down on us?”

  Janice shrugged, unconcerned. “Tell me what’s going on. You know we can fix just about anything that comes our way.”

  Bernard stared at his wife, his eyes wide with a mixture of fury and fear, an expression she’d never seen on her husband’s face before. “Not this time, Janice,” he said softly. “You poked the wrong bear.”

  Chapter 19

  Lilly followed along behind the woman who had been appointed her babysitter, guard, and professional dresser. Gone were all of her pretty clothes. The maroon dress, the red one, and definitely that blue dress had been tossed into a trash bag.

  “Can’t we at least donate these clothes?” Lilly asked.

  Ruth shook her head firmly. “You’ve been seen in those dresses, Lilliane. They can’t be donated now. And we need to hurry. You have a wedding dress fitting in ten minutes.”

  Lilly followed, wondering what her mother had chosen for her wedding dress. Sylvia, Jennifer, and Carol had all texted her congratulatory messages. Lilly hadn’t bothered to reply, since she had no idea who she was marrying.

  Her only information over the past few days was the national news and she skimmed through it about every hour, looking for any hint that her mother had followed through on her threats to ruin Drako.

  So far, her mother had kept her promise to hold off on hurting Drako. The headlines today had been about union workers threatening a strike down in one of the southern states. There were rumors that some huge political scandal was unfolding, and a reporter had gotten wind of some big business moves. But so far, there weren’t any details.

  “Ms. Von Deuch?” a woman with a face layered with makeup and false eyelashes approached as she and Ruth stepped into a posh wedding gown shop. There was a quiet elegance in this store. The music played softly through hidden speakers and several other shop attendants stood at attention off to the right, smiling politely as they waited for instructions. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the leader gushed. “I’m Dora and this is my team.” She gestured to the three women wearing black dresses, each different in style, but similar in “feel”. Each of them nodded in greeting, but otherwise, they didn’t move.

  “Can I get you a cup of tea or perhaps a glass of champagne?”

  Ruth stepped forward. “She’ll have herbal tea. But we need to move quickly. There are only six weeks until the wedding. Ms. Von Deuch has several more fittings scheduled for the afternoon.”

  Ruth was a bit of a ballbuster, Lilly thought. The attendants moved quickly, each of them knowing their roles. Within moments, a steaming cup of chamomile tea was brought to Lilly, but it was understood that she wasn’t allowed to drink it. Not yet. No one, absolutely no o
ne, brought liquids anywhere near the designer dresses. Until it was bought, of course.

  The leader of the team disappeared behind a door, coming out moments later with a plain, boat-neck wedding dress with a full skirt. There were no embellishments on the dress. No lace. No pearls.

  Not that Lilly wanted a fancy wedding dress. Good grief, if she couldn’t marry Drako, then she didn’t want any wedding dress. But this was all part of the performance.

  “Oh, that is perfect!” Ruth gushed. “Isn’t it, Lilliane?” she asked pointedly.

  Lilly heard the sharp, warning in Ruth’s words, but chose to ignore it. “Where should I try this on?” Lilly asked.

  There was an almost imperceptible tightening of Ruth’s lips, but Lilly kept her eyes on the sales attendant.

  “Right this way, Ms. Von Deuch,” the woman said with a professional smile as she led the way to one of the dressing rooms.

  Lilly was a bit startled when the woman stepped into the dressing room with her. “I’m fine on my own,” she said to the woman.

  She didn’t smile, but instead, turned Lilly harshly to the side. “I’ve been informed that you are to be fitted for this dress, but with a ten pound weight loss.” Gone were the smiles. In place of a polite smile was a harsh woman who had obviously been warned that Lilly was not a happy bride. “We’ll need to do extra fittings, but it would be best if you lost the weight as soon as possible, Ms. Von Deuch.”

  Lilly fought back the tears, wondering if this hell would ever end. How long would her mother control her? How long before Janice would forget about Drako and let Lilly live her life on her own terms?

  Probably never, she thought, wondering where she could hide from her mother. How far did her mother’s reach extend?

  Lilly pulled out her phone and glanced down at the most recent message. “I understand.” That’s all Drako had said after she’d sent her resignation letter after that horrible morning. Two words. Eleven letters. Her heart had shattered after that message, but she hadn’t been able to ask him to clarify. Instead, Lilly had curled up on the awful, hard bed in her childhood room, crying her anger and impotence into her pillow so that her mother wouldn’t know.