Dangerous Love (7 page)

“You could never bother me, sweetheart.” She squeezed Faith’s hand. “You carry too much on your shoulders. Letting others help now and then isn’t a sign of weakness. It shows that you know your limitations. Ah, listen to me lecturing you now when things are looking up. Bring Kenneth to the house sometime for one of our Sunday picnics. I’d like to meet him in a less formal setting.”

Not again. Faith needed to nip her aunt’s incessant meddling in the bud. In the past year, Estelle had gone all out to get her a husband. She sent eligible men to Faith’s store on baseless errands and enlisted her cousins’ help in inviting their friends over to the house for family dinners. No matter how often Faith explained she wasn’t ready to settle down, her aunt just brushed her protest off. ‘I want to see you happily married like Jade and Ashley,’ was often her response.

Faith glanced at the others to make sure they were concentrating on their conversation and food, then leaned closer to the older woman.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, Aunt Estelle. Ken and I are not in a relationship. What we have is a business arrangement.”

Estelle chuckled and patted Faith’s hand. “That’s how your uncle and I started, too. One minute I was busy scouring L.A. for a decent a house for the new Cedar-Sinai pediatric surgeon, the next he’d swept me off my feet. Within a year, Lex was born and we were a family.”

Family. The word echoed in Faith’s head, bringing with it an ache she hadn’t felt in years. Images of her mother drifted through her mind, echoes of her infectious laughter filling her with nostalgia. What it would be like to have someone special in her life? To find the kind of happiness her mother had found with her father at the beginning of their marriage?

Snapshots of her mother before she died replaced the earlier ones. The sad eyes. The tears. The happiness hadn’t lasted. Even now, Faith wondered if her mother just couldn’t cope with being married to an über-disciplined military man or whether the incessant criticism from some of her father’s people had taken a toll on her. Had she regretted giving up her career and her friends? Granted, showgirls just couldn’t fit in with the highly-educated and industrious Fitzgeralds, and despite her great beauty and talent, her mother couldn’t have danced forever. But cutting off her Vegas friends had been a bit drastic in Faith’s opinion, even if it was for a man who’d gone against his family’s wishes and married her.

Faith sighed. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate her parents’ sacrifice. She did. Her mother had wanted a stable home for Faith away from glitzy Las Vegas, and her father could have easily eased his guilt with child support and given up his responsibility toward her. But once he learned of her existence, nothing had stopped him from doing the right thing—courting then marrying her mother. So why then was Faith wary of relationships? Was it because of her parents’ turbulent marriage or Sean’s betrayal?

Since she had no answers, Faith pushed aside the irritating thoughts and nibbled on her salad. She only half listened to her aunt who was going on about love and marriage.

Barbs walked back into the room with a beaming face, and everyone stopped talking.

“Well?” Estelle asked.

“He approves of our plans. We’ll meet with him tomorrow before we go to Sean’s.”

Faith closed her eyes and smothered a curse.
I’m going to kill him.

***

Ken closed his cell phone and grimaced. Just when he thought he had everything figured out, he got blindsided by a bevy of meddling socialites. Did they think he was running a reality show for bored Hollywood wives? Who the hell was Barbara Riggins anyway? One minute he was explaining why she and her friends shouldn’t be involved in his investigation, the next he was agreeing with each and every one of her arguments.

“There’re people beside Sean O’Neal who’d love to see Faith’s career crash and burn. That’s unacceptable to me and my friends, Mr. Lambert. Don’t you think we should work together to thwart their efforts? Do what’s right for Faith? Or don’t you care about her career?” she’d fired at him.

Disagreeing hadn’t crossed his mind because he would have come across as an insensitive jerk with little interest in Faith’s career. Barbara hadn’t given him a chance to ask who’d want to see Faith’s career fail or why before she moved on to another reason why they had to work as a team. So he’d done what any sane man did when confronted with a strong-willed woman, went along with her suggestions. But he had no intention of working with them. His team was well-equipped to deal with O’Neal.

Ken headed back to the indoor basketball court off the gym’s foyer. Inside, five sweating, shirtless men threw three-pointers and teased each other like a bunch of pubescent boys, waiting for him to join them. Ken often looked forward to these three-on-three games, but now all he wanted to do was hurry back to the office and get to work. Faith had sounded worried, which didn’t sit well with him.

“Hey, Lambert!
 
You playing or what?” one of his friends called out.

His head wouldn’t be in the game if he stayed. “Not tonight, guys. Work beckons. Let the kid take my place.” Ken jerked his head toward the younger man who’d been watching their game the past ten minutes.

His friends waved the teen over and went back to the game without giving him a hard time. The group had doctors, cops, and a former buddy from the bureau. Bailing out during a game wasn’t uncommon.

Ken picked up his water bottle from where he’d left it on the raised dais that ran along one side of the court and headed toward the front entrance of the gym. As he walked to his car, his mind raced. Who could have filmed him and Sean? He tried to remember the customers inside Faith’s store at the time and drew a blank. Maybe one of her employees, someone loyal to her and not O’Neal.

It didn’t matter who’d done it. Faith wanted the matter resolved and he knew exactly what to do to make it happen.

He stopped by Taco Time on his way home, pulled up outside his Artesia Square condo and pressed the garage opener. He’d lucked out when he got this place in Gardena. The buildings were new, the neighborhood quiet, and his place bordered affluent single family homes.

The silence inside the house was jarring after the music in his car. He flipped on lights, made a beeline for the living room and turn on the TV to ESPN. The background made him feel like he wasn’t alone.

Funny, he’d never minded being on his own. But that was what he got for letting Faith get inside his head. He still didn’t understand how she did it. He’d had relationships before, bedded his share of beautiful women, but none could hold a torch to Faith. The woman was unforgettable. From her glossy auburn hair to her endless perfectly toned legs, the stubborn glint in her blue eyes when she challenged him to the vulnerability that appeared in their depth when her guard was down. He wanted it all.

Ken headed for the second bedroom he’d converted into an office. He dropped his dinner onto the desk, powered his desktop, and scratched his chest. Hell, he stunk, but the shower must wait.

Finding the video Faith mentioned wasn’t hard. Ken chuckled as he watched the footage and munched on burritos. Slugging Sean had felt good. Despite what he’d told Faith, he wanted the video deleted. His company was known for being discreet. A public brawl didn’t exactly exemplify that policy.

He contacted the site moderator and left a brief message. Hopefully, the owners respected privacy laws and banned videos posted without participants’ consent. Just in case they took their time responding…

Ken grabbed his cell phone and punched in Sly’s number. Getting information by hacking into a system was something he only sanctioned as a last resort and when the situation was dire. “Do you have time to do me a favor?”

“Sure, boss.”

“I need info on a person who uploaded a video online. I’m e-mailing you the link.”

“Okay,” Sly said slowly as though he was preoccupied. “I can use back routes to get their I.P. address and get you what you want.”

“Route it through my system at work.” If anyone traced the infringement, he wanted them to think he did the hacking, not Sly.

“Boss, that’s not necessary. I plan to bounce the signal all over the place they’ll never trace it back to me.”

Ken shook his head at the boy’s cockiness. Unfortunately, too many hackers had made that mistake and wound up in jail. “We do it my way or not at all, Sly. That’s an order. Call me back when you’ve gotten something. Oh, and don’t mention the video to anyone in the office.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Ken hung up and started researching Barbara Riggins and her friends. Amateurs taking matters into their hands bugged him. Ones who made you to do their bidding and made it seem like it was your idea were downright dangerous. Getting background info on these women should prepare him for tomorrow because he intended to send them scurrying back to their country clubs and charmed existence.

The more he read on each woman, the more he realized just how mistaken he’d been. These weren’t your average Hollywood wives. Barbara Riggins, a former talk-show host, was now a producer/director power couple with her husband. They had released several successful off-beat comedies under their production company. The buxom blonde Monique VanderMarck was the modeling industry it-girl before Twiggy. He had no idea who Twiggy was, but the article gushed about her. VanderMarck now wrote scripts for multiple teen television series. The others had equally impressive resumes—Eliza Goldschmidt and her ability to write scripts which her husband turned into blockbuster movies and Sissy and her chick flicks and documentaries.

Ken sat back and shook his head. They were a rainbow of strong, smart, and driven women, and no way in hell could he intimidate them into doing anything against their will. That left him with one option.

“I need you to play bodyguard to a bunch of Hollywood A-list celebrities,” he said into the phone after speed-dialing a number

Rod laughed. “That’s what I’m talking about. Where, when, and for how long?”

“The Fashion District, tomorrow. They have an appointment with a designer.”

“Does this have anything to do with the hot babe that came looking for you yesterday? Is she going to be there?”

“She’s not a babe,” Ken snapped. “Ms. Fitzgerald is a client and must be treated with respect just like all of our other clients. And yes, this is about her case. I’ll need you to stay glued to her friends during their appointment and use the opportunity to bug every room you enter. Whatever questions you may have about the case, I’ll answer first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds like a plan. So I take it Ms. Fitzgerald is off limits because she’s a client,” Ron said.

Ken felt like an ass for snapping at Rod, but now the man was screwing with him. How could he put his intentions in terms the Cuban would understand? “Not because she’s a client, Rod. She’s off limits because she’s mine.”

CHAPTER 6

“Have a seat, Ms. Larson.” Faith indicated the chair across from hers and studied the woman as she walked across the room.

“Please call me, Jennifer,” she said and shook Faith’s hand.

Jennifer Larson was the first interviewee for the hair and make-up stylist position Faith had advertised on Craigslist. The job, though temporary, was vital to her upcoming show in New York. From what she could see, Jennifer had flare for fashion. Her outfit wasn’t trendy but she’d accessorized it with the right shoes and a purse from last year’s must-haves, a vintage belt and jewelry.

Faith sat after her guest did. “Your hair’s gorgeous.”

Jennifer smiled and patted her asymmetrically cut mane. “Thank you.”

“Did you do it yourself?”

“No, one of my girls did. I really appreciate this opportunity to show you what my salon can do.”

“You have an impressive resume.” Faith opened the folder in front of her and skimmed down the list of fashion shows Valhalla Stylists had worked on. She’d gone through every entry in detail, but one thing bothered her.
  

“I noticed that the references you gave me didn’t include the past two years.”

Jennifer scooted to the edge of her chair, her hands clasping her purse tighter. “I spent the last two years expanding my business and just opened a salon in Burbank.” Her smile wavered, but her gaze didn’t. “However, you’re right to question why I stopped working with designers. During my last job, I made a terrible mistake I’ve regretted ever since. I had an affair with the man I worked with. His fiancée found out and blackballed me. It’s been two years and I hope people have forgotten. Ms. Fitzgerald, I want to work in shows again. If you give me a chance, I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

Something cold crawled up Faith’s spine. Their stories were so similar it was spooky. The fashion industry was catty and gossip spread faster than a virus. What were the chances Jennifer had heard about her and Sean and was betting on being hired because of their similar pasts?
  

“Have you applied to other designers and been rejected?”

“Your ad was one of the few I’ve answered. You are the first one to interview me,” Jennifer added with a tiny shrug.

Faith understood her dilemma too well. Sean had blackballed her too, making it impossible for her to find work or sponsors. Despite Jennifer’s honesty, the nagging doubts hounded Faith.

“What made you choose me from the other ads?”

“I love your work and have shopped at your store before, but above all, I love doing shows. It gives me a chance to be creative and daring. The other ads were for local, smaller events.”
 

“If I hire you, how would you go about choosing the right hairstyle for my designs?”

Jennifer’s eyes sparkled. “I’d study your collection first then sit down with you to discuss your vision and concept for the show. Hairstyle and make-up can go in any direction, so I’d propose several styles that make your designs stand out without stealing attention from them. Then together, we’d decide on the best ones that make the entire collection gel. I can work with natural hair or weaves. My people are versatile.”

And very efficient from what Faith had seen. She clicked a key on her laptop and a video started to load. “I watched the DVD you sent with your resume. Did your people record it?”

Jennifer chuckled. “No. The designer’s PR team did. She was kind enough to give me a copy.”

Watching it had landed Jennifer on Faith’s short-list. The video chronicled the make-up and hairstyle selection from conception to the final choice.

“I have a few questions about your decisions here. Maybe you can explain them to me.” Faith turned the laptop so it faced Jennifer, then walked around the desk to join her.

The stylist explained every step in the pre-show process, making Faith chuckle a few times. At the end of video were pictures of hairstyles and make-up from other shows. Jennifer’s enthusiasm was contagious, and from her portfolio, she’d be a wonderful addition to the Falasha team. Still, Faith wasn’t ready to make that decision until she’d interviewed the other two people on her list.

Faith turned off the DVD player and got up. “Thank you for stopping by, Jennifer. I promise not to make you wait too long for my decision. Expect to hear from me by next week.”

Jennifer nodded, thanked Faith again, and left.

Faith walked to the fridge at the corner of the room and retrieved a bottle of water. She unscrewed the top, took a swig, and mulled over the interview. Hiring a hair/make-up stylist could mean one less thing to worry about. She glanced at her watch. Her next appointment was due in less than thirty minutes, which gave her a small window to make calls to New York.

She picked up the phone and punched in numbers.

“Elegance Modeling Agency,” a female voice answered after two rings.

 
“May I talk to Marcela, please? It’s Faith Fitzgerald of Falasha.”

“She’s expecting your call, Ms. Fitzgerald. Just a second while I put you through.”

Faith didn’t wait long before Marcela Radcliffe came on the line. “Hello, darling. When do you get in?” she purred in a British accent. Even after living in the U.S. for fifteen odd years, she still sounded stiff and formal.

“Sunday afternoon.”

“We must do dinner while you’re here. I told my girls you’re the one who threw it all away. They can’t wait to work with you.”

Faith laughed. “Threw it away? I never had it to begin with, Marcella. You’re just being kind.”

 
“You know me, luv. I never say anything I don’t mean. You would have landed a Victoria Secrets contract if you hadn’t walked away.” She chuckled then continued. “Now about your show, I’ve lined up enough girls for you to choose from, including a few that are size twelve like you requested. Send me your itinerary, so I can finish the go-see scheduling.”

 
Once she finished with Marcela, Faith leaned back against her chair and sipped her water. Talking to Marcela often brought a smile to her lips. Faith had signed up with Elegance Modeling Agency during her first year in college, went to numerous go-sees without landing a high-profile runaway job. She hadn’t been scrawny enough. Like then, her hips were a tad wide and her chest too endowed for couture designs except for swim wear, which she modeled quite a bit. Her experience taught her to appreciate the work that went into modeling.
 

When she’d contacted Marcela about using her girls, Marcela had been more than accommodating. Models were booked fast during Fashion Week and they didn’t come cheap, especially the ones sought after like Marcela’s. But she had given Falasha a decent discount. If things went according to plans, the show would translate into profit. Faith hoped to leave New York with a list of retailers interested in her collection. Having L.A. Fashion Market a month later would give her enough time to prepare for the global buyers who flocked California Market Center to place orders.

Faith threw the empty water bottle in the trash and frowned. The culmination of her five year goal to have her designs in retail stores was so close. Excitement and nervousness vied for dominance inside her. Hip, younger designers popped out of the woodwork every year. Throw in the ones who got instant exposure through television shows like Project Runway or pop artists branching into fashion, and the competition kept getting stiffer. This was her chance to make her dream a reality. Failure wasn’t an option.

Her cell phone rang, interrupting her reverie. She didn’t check the identity of the caller, just picked up the receiver and brought it to her ear. “Yes?”

“I need your help.”

Ken. A gentle wash of warmth settled in her midsection. She’d chosen not to call him last night after he ignored her suggestion. Bet he was already regretting his decision not to listen to her about her aunt and her friends, which was probably why he was calling.

“Good morning, Ken,” she said, keeping her voice upbeat.

“These women are driving me nuts. Don’t say ‘I told you so,’ Faith, or I’ll make you pay. Last night, I tried convincing Barbara that I had everything under control and got nowhere. Now there’re clucking around, turning my office into some fancy café. Barbara even brought her imported coffee from Lord-knows-where and tiny scones specially made for her with soy milk. I had to try them,” he growled.

He sounded so aggravated, she chuckled.

“It’s not funny,” he snapped.

She laughed. “You should hear yourself.”

“Faith,” he threatened.

“Okay. How can I help?”

“Come and help me get rid of them. They’ve commandeered my office and hijacked my investigation. I’m afraid to leave, or I’d come pick you up myself. How soon can you get here?”

Faith rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going anywhere, but she felt sorry for him. He was dealing with a formidable team. “Why are you afraid to leave?”

“They’ll steal the rest of my employees. Rod and Duncan are already in their pockets, the dimwits,” he said with disgust. “My assistant is a movie junkie and their number one fan. It’s like being in the Twilight Zone.” His voice dropped as he added, “One of them can’t seem to keep her hands to herself. I think she’s at my door right now trying to get inside.”

Faith burst out laughing. “Sounds like Sissy found husband number three.”

“Not interested.”

“You’d better not tell her that because she’ll only consider you a challenge. Play along and she’ll leave you alone. Easy conquests bore her. So what have you told them?”

“I offered to have Rod escort them to O’Neal’s office and act as their bodyguard. They wanted to know why. So, I explained Rod’s real reason for accompanying them.”

“Which is?”

“To bug the place and take some pictures. That turned out to be the wrong thing to admit because now they want to do it. Can you believe that? The transmitters we use are delicate and expensive. The last thing I need is amateurs playing around with them. Just a second.” He said something to someone in the background before getting back on the line. “Listen, I understand their loyalty to you, but this is my investigation and they’re screwing with it. Get over here and explain to them why I need to work alone.”

Faith sighed. “I’d like to help, Ken, but I can’t. I have an important interview—”

“Reschedule.”

“I can’t,” she added in an exasperated voice. “But I’ve been in situations like this with them before, so this is what you should do. Give them a part to play, nothing big or dangerous. You’ll be amazed how nice they are once they get their way.”

“I thought my mother was bad,” he added softly.

Faith smothered a chuckle. “Maybe they’ll be happy after helping today and leave you alone. Why are you bugging Sean’s place?”

“We haven’t been able to get anything useful from his phone or place him anywhere near one of your people, but that doesn’t mean he’s not guilty,” he added quickly as though to reassure her. “We need to figure out who he’s communicating with. I have someone trailing him now, but I’d be happier once we have audio and video feed from his workplace. Rod can take care of the audio today and we’ll install the video sometime in the next few days. Or should I say nights. We’ll be able to access his computers, safe, or wherever he stashes his designs.
 
By next week, we should know everything about the man, down to what he stole from you.”

The more Faith listened to Ken, the more his thoroughness impressed her. The annoyance in his voice faded as he outlined his strategy. Too often, she met people who hated their jobs and whined incessantly. It was refreshing to meet someone who actually enjoyed what he did for a living. Her only worry was the entire operation sounded expensive and he hadn’t yet told her how much it would set her back financially.

“Seems like you have everything under control,” Faith said, mentally searching for an opening to ask about the cost.

“Which is why your friends shouldn’t be here.”

“I also noticed the video of the fight is down. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, and it hardly qualified as a fight.”

Faith opened her mouth to respond just as a knock resounded on her door. Molly stuck her head through the opening. “Your next appointment is here.”

“Thanks,” Faith mouthed then added louder into the receiver, “I’ve got to go, Ken. If you get a chance, can you e-mail me the contract for the investigation? You never got around to giving it to me.’

“There’s no hurry.”

“Still, I’d like to have it on file. Let me know how everything goes.”

He sighed. “If they don’t drive me insane first, sure.”

***

Ken pushed the cell phone back in its holder and headed toward the door. Conversation stopped when he entered the main floor of his offices. Sly, Hailey, and the five women were seated around the visitors’ waiting area, sipping coffee and rehearsing movie scenes the women had written. Lucy was back at her desk on the computer, but Duncan was gone. Ken hadn’t expected him to hang around forever after checking in.

“What did she say?” Estelle Fitzgerald asked.

Ken cocked his brow. “What did who say?”

“Faith,” she said. “You were talking to her, right?”