Chapter 3
With his office door open, Dylan had an unrestricted view of his bullpen. The commotion caught his attention and had him sighing.
He should have known. Pushing away the file he had been perusing, he sat back and watched as his sister charmed the men in blue.
It was certainly not the first time. And chiding her about coming to the precinct wearing one of her outrageous designs was going to cause a riot.
She was also armed with two boxes of donuts. She certainly knew how to get their attention.
When the noise level increased, he decided it was time to intervene. Pushing back his chair, he rose and strolled from his office into the general area.
And wasn't surprised that no one noticed him.
"I'm assuming crime did not take a holiday. The break is over. Mason, stop ogling my sister's breasts and get me the file I asked for. Stevenson, if I don't see your hand moving away from her thigh, you're going to be in big trouble."
He turned to Regina, who was sitting on Stevenson's desk, long legs crossed, the skirt, if it could be called that, slipping to show skin.
"Get off the desk and into my office. Christ, Gina, could you be more obvious?"
"All right, boys. You heard the boss. Get back to work."
Sliding off gracefully, she blew kisses and preceded him into the office. Closing the door behind him, Dylan sent her a baleful glance before going to sit on the edge of his desk.
"I saved a cruller for you."
"That's not going to work." His eyes wandered over the sheer hot pink lace of her blouse.
The skirt was a rust brown linen with thigh-high slits on both sides. Strappy sandals completed the outfit.
Her locks were piled on top of her head in a careless knot. Bangles were piled high on both wrists.
"I had to talk to you."
"The phone works and I don't have time. You do this deliberately."
For some reason, he was angry. He had seen the way his men eyed her like a piece of meat, and it bothered him.
"Why the hell don't you start wearing clothes?" He got up to pace the length of his desk.
"You're twenty-eight years old and walk around like a hormonal teenager. When the hell are you going to grow up?"
The smile that had been curving her lips fell apart to be replaced by flashing anger.
"I'm my own woman and I can wear whatever the hell I want.
How dare you criticize my tastes in clothes!
Do I judge you for wearing those boring as hell suits that make you look like a bloody banker?
No, I don't, because it's your choice, and for your information, I happen to know just how old I am. "
His anger deflated like a pricked balloon and had him feeling guilty.
"I'm sorry." Walking back to the desk, he sat down, his expression contrite.
"You're right." When she just sat there staring at him, he pushed off the desk and came to sit next to her.
"Gina, I'm sorry. I just saw them staring at you like... like-" He passed a hand at the back of his neck and felt foolish.
"They were staring at you, and I wanted to get all big brother on them. Old habit."
She relented enough to hand him the pastry bag. "I don't need protecting," she told him stiffly.
"I know. Forgive me?"
His hopeful expression had her grinning. Leaning over, she kissed him on the lips, then took a deep breath.
"Please hear me out before you say anything."
He frowned at her but nodded.
"I found a backer for my agency."
His eyes lit up in excitement.
"Honey, that's wonderful. Who's it?"
"I would like you to hear me out before you make any comment."
He was immediately suspicious. "What's going on, Gina?" he asked her with a frown.
"You promised to listen."
"I am. Spit it out."
"God, I hate when you talk to me as if I'm a bloody suspect."
"Then stop acting like one. Spill it."
Taking a deep breath, she plunged on. To his credit, he sat there and listened to every word.
Not even a change of expression or even a raised brow indicated what he was thinking. When she was finished, he still continued staring at her.
"Are you going to say anything?" she asked, nervously.
"I'm still processing. The guy is paying you two million dollars to pose as his wife. Did I get it right?"
"Yes."
"And his grandfather is dying."
"Yes."
"Are you sure he is?"
"What? Why?"
It was her time to frown.
"What if the old man's playing a trick on Muldoon? To force him to settle down. If that's the case, then you'd be stuck in a fake marriage with your hands tied."
"He's not pretending. He really is dying. His doctors-"
"Could have been paid off. The man has enough money to make that happen."
Settling back in the chair, she shook her head at him. "When did you become this cynical and suspicious of everything and everyone?"
"Since I became a cop and have seen the darker side of humanity," he told her grimly.
"There has to be another way for you to get the money. I don't like this."
"There's no other way, and I did not tell you in order to ask for permission. I already agreed."
His eyes flashed.
"Your impetuous nature is going to get you into trouble. You just told me you're going to be living with a complete stranger as his wife-"
"It's a big house."
"Regina-"
"Enough!" She held up a hand.
"All I'm asking is that you come to the wedding-"
"The fake wedding."
"Yes, dammit. I'm doing this, and I would like the only family I have to be supportive-"
"I'm not the only family you have," he reminded her quietly.
"Don't!" She lunged to her feet, turning to him with flashing eyes.
"Don't mention his name, don't say that he's my family. You're my family. After mom died, it's just you. Don't-" She took a shaky breath and closed her eyes briefly.
Dylan rose slowly, regret stamped all over his face.
"I'm sorry, baby." He reached for her, ignoring her effort to resist him, and drew her into his arms.
His heart twisted when he realized she was trembling, and he silently cursed the man who had done this to her, to both of them. He had ruined their lives, made it almost impossible for them to have lasting relationships.
"All right," he murmured, rubbing his hands up and down her back soothingly.
"I'll be there. But he'd better not be trying to trick you. Did you tell him I carry a gun?"
Her burst of laughter had him smiling in relief.
"I did."
"And that I'm the worst big brother ever?"
"He knows."
Easing her back, he took her chin in his hand and felt the grief at that haunted look on her beautiful face. He would give anything to rid her of it.
"Okay, honey. I'm on board. But only because I'm a sucker for your very plain face."
Her smile came and relieved him of the guilt he was feeling. "You are a sucker."
Going on her toes, she kissed him softly. "Thank you."
"Now go on your way. I have crimes to solve."
"Eat the pastry." With a jaunty wave, she left.
He waited a few minutes before going behind his desk to do his research. He wanted to know everything there was to know about the Muldoon family.
* * * * *
She went back to the building. She couldn't have stopped herself if she chained her wrists with zip ties.
The money was in her grasp. All she had to do was to go along with being married to a man who was set to inherit billions.
She could ignore the knots in her stomach and the sheen of perspiration running down her back.
Marriage was not in the books for her. There was only a slight pang because she wanted children.
But there were ways to accomplish that without a wedding ring or a man. She could do insemination, and she had been thinking about it.
She hadn't said anything to her brother, but there was that. Or adoption.
There were millions of children not only in this country, but around the world who could benefit from a loving home.
She was getting two million dollars. As soon as she entered into this fake marriage, the money would be hers.
He thought she was materialistic and shallow, but that's fine too. His opinion did not really matter.
They were entering into a business deal. It was nothing personal, and she would get her dream.
She had taken a cab because parking was a bitch at this time of day. She stood on the slightly crumbling sidewalk and gazed at the storefront building.
It was tucked between a jewelry store and a bakery and was quaint and charming. It just needed a little cosmetic renovation.
A paint job here and there. The owners had used it for a dance studio that had gone belly up two years ago.
Now they were selling.
She could practically hold it within her grasp. She would not have to do much to the interior.
A modeling agency with a difference. She already had the name.
"Natural Beauty." It might sound corny, but that's exactly what it was going to be.
No airbrushed models who existed on coffee and cigarettes. She would take in real people, ones with curves, lines on their skins, lumps, and warts and all.
She wanted normal people to see that nothing was out of their grasp.
She had been modeling long enough to be disgusted by the rat race. Yes, she was fortunate to be born with a beautiful face and a body made for wearing furs and painted on jeans, as one photographer had told her rapturously before he tried to get her into bed.
Her girls and guys would be treated with respect, not just objects. She had been inside several times.
She knew every crevice and corner of the building. The paint was peeling in places, but that could be sorted out easily.
There was a reception area already. She would add some colors, bold orange, red, green, blue.
Her signature.
All she had to do was to endure living in a mansion for the duration of three months. Tamping down the panic, Regina continued to keep her gaze on the building until she was calm enough.
Marriage was a fraud, something that was designed to trap you and keep you in utter despair. Like her mother.
Oh God!
She pressed a hand to her stomach. Not now, please not now.
Turning away, she walked towards the café to grab a glass of iced protein coffee and calm herself.
* * * * *
"Thanks for meeting me."