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Finally, she released her clenched fists, raised her gaze and focused on Ashley. There were obviously things she could not disclose, which would make her having to see Michael difficult to explain. She cleared her throat.
“I’m going to tell you some things. Some are not going to make any sense because of the things that I can’t tell you. Understand?”
Ashley blinked in confusion. “Not really, but go ahead. I’ll piece it together.”
“Well, you already know about me and Michael’s past...”
Ashley nodded.
“Last night he didn’t take me for drinks. He had his driver take me to his home on Sag Harbor, the home he said he’d had built for me and him.”
Ashley sucked in a breath of surprise, but didn’t interrupt.
Mia swallowed. “He kissed me. And I didn’t stop him.”
From there the rest of the story poured out: how she felt, her confusion, even what happened between her and Steven, her guilt.
She rubbed her forehead as if the action could rub away the thoughts and images that tramped through her brain.
“Wow,” Ashley murmured after Mia had finished. “And I guess the reason why you have to go see him is the part you can’t tell me.”
Mia nodded.
“Why not let me go with you?”
“I wish I could but I can’t. All I can say is that it’s bigger than me and you and I promised that I would do this.”
Ashley blew out a breath. “I respect that. But can I offer some advice?”
“I could use some.”
“Be clear about the why. Be sure that you’re doing this because you have no choice and not because you subconsciously want to rekindle your relationship. Because if you do, you owe it to Steven to be honest with him about your feelings.”
How could she explain that it was a combination of both? A part of her felt duty-bound and another part wanted to see what life would be like again with Michael. In addition to which, she wanted to prove that he couldn’t be capable of the things he was suspected of. And she hoped that her own misgivings would not cloud her judgment.
Ashley pushed up from her seat. “If you change your mind, I’m free all afternoon,” she said with a soft smile. She turned to leave.
“Wait!”
Ashley turned back around.
Mia stood. “If I take you with me, you have to promise not to ask any questions, no matter what happens.”
“Gee, Mia, you sound like some kind of spy or something.”
Mia snatched up her purse and tote bag. She looked Ashley in her eyes. “Or something.” She headed for the door, leaving Ashley pinned in place by her declaration. “Coming?”
Ashley hurried behind her boss and wondered what she’d gotten herself into.
Chapter 8
“No point in circling the block again,” Mia groused, looking above and below car tops and along the tightly packed street as she inched down 56th Street. Michael’s office on Madison Avenue was in the heart of Manhattan. But parking on Madison was out of the question. “It’s mostly either No Parking Anytime or For Commercial Traffic Only.”
“There’s a garage about a block down on your right,” Ashley pointed out.
Mia signaled then eased into the right lane in front of a yellow cab and zipped across the intersection before the light changed. The Quick-Park parking garage was franchised throughout the city. Their trademark black-and-gold signs were like beacons of salvation for harried drivers.
Throughout the thirty-minute drive, Ashley had refrained from asking questions, basically making small talk or keeping quiet, which totally went against her grain. This entire scenario had Ashley deeply concerned about Mia. Mia had said there were things she couldn’t tell her, and heaven only knew what that meant. She just hoped that whatever Mia had gotten herself involved in was not going to get her hurt, and she didn’t mean physically.
During the months that she’d spent working with Mia, she’d come to admire and respect her. Mia was forthright, professional, loyal to her friends and able to charm the most difficult clients. She ran her business with precision, and she conducted her life with the same kind of order and attention to detail—all without breaking a sweat. Which was why it was so unsettling to see her like this—totally distracted, edgy and, for lack of a better word, scared. Those were words Ashley would have never associated with Mia, and Ashley vowed to stick by her side and see things through.
* * *
Mia unsnapped her seat belt, pulled down the overhead mirror and reapplied her lipstick, which she’d pretty much chewed off during the trip.
For an instant she froze. The look in her eyes that was reflected back at her was one of uncertainty and confusion. And she knew that it had more to do with her twisted feelings for Michael than her ability to do her job. Yet both were intricately intertwined, and she couldn’t see one without the other. But she had to.
She felt Ashley staring at her and turned. “I may need your help.”
Ashley’s honey-brown eyes widened ever so slightly. “Sure. Whatever you need.”
Mia offered a tight-lipped smile, flipped the mirror back in place, grabbed her purse and tote and hopped out.
The attendant handed her a ticket and asked how long she would be.
“No more than an hour.” She turned and walked up the ramp and out onto the busy street.
Michael’s offices were on the five-hundred block of Madison Avenue, surrounded by the headquarters of all the major banks both domestic and foreign and the leading financial institutions, Schwab, Deutsche Bank. His office was at 554-11 Madison on the twenty-second floor.
The duo pushed through the glass-and-chrome revolving doors. They were stopped at the security check-in desk, and asked to produce identification and sign a logbook.
Ever since 9/11, all the major New York City office buildings had instituted this procedure. Mia often wondered what possible good it would do and what kind of deterrent it was for someone who really wanted to do harm. There was no way to prove that anyone’s ID was legitimate.
Her friend Danielle’s last Cartel case was a perfect example of what people could do with ID. Dani’s identity theft case even added an additional element of finding famous look-alikes who were used to gain access to parties, offices and homes with the purpose of stealing unsuspecting victims’ identities. The successful outcome was all in the news, with no mention of Danielle or the Cartel, of course.
No matter how careful you were and no matter how many safeguards were put in place, someone, somewhere, was working to breach your defenses. The Ladies Cartel was a testament to that truth. Besides, she reasoned, if someone intended to get in and blow up a building, the logbook would be destroyed in the process. It was all quite arcane and silly in Mia’s mind, but if it offered some sense of security, she supposed it was useful.
Mia and Ashley walked side by side to the second bank of elevators after signing in.
Mia watched the dial of the elevator as the lights did a countdown. “I may need you to keep his executive assistant—and possibly Michael—busy,” she said without looking at Ashley.
“Sure. No problem. Busy I can do.”
The elevator doors slid open and deposited a half dozen people into the lobby. Mia and Ashley were the only two to get on.
“If I say I want to use the restroom, I’m going to need you to keep everyone occupied. At least for five minutes. If we get to sit in Michael’s office, I’m going to need you to get him out of it.”
“How?”
“We’ll think of something.”
The bell dinged and the doors slid open.
“This would be so much more fun if you told me what you couldn’t tell me,” Ashley said under her breath.
Mia tossed her a look and stepped off the elevator. The directional signs indicated that the Avante Enterprises offices were to the right. They turned toward a set of glass doors.
A receptionist looked up at their approach. “May I help you?” Her perky voice came through the intercom embedded in the wall. Mia recognized it from the phone call. She stepped closer to the intercom.
“Mia Turner. I have an appointment with Mr. Burke.”
The door buzzed, along with the sound of the lock disengaging. Mia grabbed the large chrome handle and pushed the door open.
“If you will have a seat, I’ll let Mr. Burke know you’re here.”
“Thank you,” Mia murmured and took a seat with Ashley right next to her.
“Nice digs,” Ashley said.
“Hmm.” Interesting, she thought, as she took in the décor of the reception area. The colors were in sharp contrast to the house on the harbor. Here black dominated, with gray and burgundy accents. The colors and coordinating décor spoke power, style and control. All nouns easily associated with Michael Burke.
Moments later, a woman of about thirty with a cap of silky black curls outlining a perfectly made-up face approached them. Mia instinctively knew this was Ms. Executive Assistant.
The woman’s chocolate chip–pinstriped suit jacket hugged her narrow waist, fanned out ever so slightly to caress her hips, and the above-the-knee-length skirt showcased the legs of a dancer—long, lean, perfectly formed and strong. She seemed to instinctively know one from the other and extended her hand to Mia.
“Ms. Turner. I’m Brenda Forde. I believe we’ve met via phone.” She directed intense honey-colored eyes at Mia, all the more disconcerting because of their lightness against her flawlessly brown skin and the fierceness that hovered in them.
Real or contacts, Mia wondered in a comedic moment.
“Yes. We have met, haven’t we? Always good to put a face with a voice.” She released the butter-soft hand and turned to Ashley. “This is my executive assistant and business manager, Ashley Temple.”
Ashley extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Brenda gave a short nod of her head. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll get you settled in the small conference room. Michael...Mr. Burke is on a business call. As soon as he’s done, he’ll join us.”
There goes that us again, Mia thought. She smiled and followed Brenda down the short hallway and was led to a room with, unfortunately, a glass door and walls.
“Please make yourselves comfortable. Would you like something to drink while you wait?”
“Some water for me,” Mia said.
“Water is fine,” Ashley added.
“I’ll be right back.” She picked up a remote from the table and pointed it at a television mounted onto the wall. The CNN studio filled the screen. “Michael likes CNN,” Brenda said with a smile that held a challenge.
“I remember,” Mia tossed back, unable to help herself and secretly delighted in seeing Ms. Executive Assistant flinch before she walked out.
“Meow, meow,” Ashley sang. “At least let me know when to duck out of the way of the claws. What was that about?”
Mia quickly gave her the rundown of her earlier conversation with Brenda.
“You think they’re seeing each other?”
Mia gave a slight shrug. “If not, she certainly wants to. Not that it’s any of my business,” she added quickly.
Ashley bit back a smile.
Mia reluctantly pulled her glasses out of her purse. She took a good look around the room. The conference table took up most of the space, surrounded by eleven chairs, five on each side and one at the head. Two computer stations braced one wall. With her growing knowledge of electronics and technology, she noted that there were microphones built into the table, which let her know that conversations here were recorded. The wall panel that controlled the television also controlled the screen that could be lowered from the ceiling. She was pretty sure it included teleconferencing, which would account for the video camera in the back of the room.
Her instincts told her this room was used for meetings much more sensitive than who would be the next R & B star, which gave her even more reason to want to tap it. What solidified her resolve was the camera that she’d spotted hidden between the panels on the wall. It was no bigger than a quarter and to those who were none the wiser it looked like an imperfection in the wall. A hidden camera would certainly limit what she could get away with in this room. The ideal situation would be to find Avante’s control room.
Mia glanced toward the door. Brenda and Michael were coming in. Mia couldn’t miss the adoring look that Brenda gave Michael as he held the door open for her. Mia took off her glasses and returned them to her purse.
Ashley stole a look in Mia’s direction as the doors swung open.
“Mia.” Michael came right to her, braced her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Had to bring backup, huh,” he teased, whispering in her ear. He stepped back and looked her in the eye, as if she was the only person in the room.
Mia swallowed over the tightness in her throat. The intoxicating scent of him momentarily clouded her thoughts. “Michael, my executive assistant, Ashley Temple.”
“My pleasure, Ms. Temple,” he said, finally focusing on something other than Mia. He shook Ashley’s hand, then turned back to Mia. “Would you prefer to talk here or over lunch?”
“Here is fine. Ashley has prepared a PowerPoint presentation for our proposal. Then we can have lunch. If that works for you.” She smiled sweetly.
“Not a problem.”
Ashley took the printed copies out of the leather folder she carried, along with the CD of the presentation. She handed out the literature.
Mia’s heart pounded. She hoped that Michael would allow them to use the computer to run the program and not just the projector.
“All this technology is not my thing,” Michael admitted. “That’s Brenda’s area of expertise.” He tossed his hands up in the air in a gesture of exasperation.
“Is your computer linked to the video screen?” Mia asked.
“Of course. I’ll get you set up.” Brenda went to one of the computers and turned it on. She lowered the lights then depressed a button on the wall panel and the screen descended. “You can load your CD.”
Ashley went to the computer and inserted the CD.
Mia’s heart was pounding. If there was one glitch in the program that she’d embedded on the CD, they were toast. After Ashley had completed the PowerPoint proposal, Mia had volunteered to put it on the CD. Later that evening, Mia wrote a code—with the help of Jasmine at Cartel headquarters—that would track the activities of the computer and was activated when the PowerPoint was shown.
What it gave Mia the opportunity to do was look inside the computer files in addition to mirroring every keystroke.
The screen filled with MT Management’s logo and its tagline, “Your dream event is our reality.”
For about ten seconds the screen froze then flickered. Mia held her breath. Jasmine had warned her about this and advised her not to panic. She’d been meticulous about entering the code. She’d gone over it three times to be sure she’d typed in the correct HTML string.
The first screen finally opened and Mia exhaled as Ashley’s voice gave the text and images verbal support.
While everyone was engrossed in the presentation, Mia felt around inside her tote bag, which she held on her lap beneath the table, and unzipped her “go bag”—her little carryall that held some of her tools of the trade. It looked like a makeup pouch. She felt around for the recording disk that looked like an eye-shadow pot. She had to unscrew the cap and lift the disk out. It was no bigger than a dime and nearly slipped from her fingers. One side was sticky and would adhere to any surface, virtually inconspicuous. She pressed the sticky side underneath the table, felt it to be sure it was secure then dropped the circular pot back into her go bag.
