Unmistaken Identity Read online

  He glanced at the screen. Franklin.

  Let the good news rain down.

  “What’s up?”

  “Mr. Robson. We’re hitting some obstacles with the permits in New York. I think you should be there in person tomorrow to resolve them.”

  Fucking New York and the mess it was turning out to be. Flying there used to be a pleasant change, now it was a nuisance. “I’ll fly out tonight. Send the info.”

  He hung up on Franklin. If Wes weren’t such a control freak, he’d let Helen handle Franklin and New York. It’d serve the old boy right.

  A long flight with nothing but his fury to keep him company.

  Unless…

  He punched in Mara’s number. “You awake?”

  She chuckled. “It’s almost noon. I’m on my way to see Mom. Are you feeling better?”

  He grimaced. Her concern sounded genuine. She was good. “I’ve got special plans for tonight. We’re going out and it’s a surprise.”

  “But—”

  “Saying no isn’t allowed. Have I got a surprise for you. I’ll pick you up at five.”

  He heard the smile in her voice when she finally said yes.

  Yeah. He had a surprise, all right.

  ***

  Giddy butterflies danced in Mara’s stomach as she raced out to meet Wes. How long had he been parked out there? She’d expected him to come to the door. She’d happened to peek out and had seen him sitting and staring straight ahead, his profile barely discernible in the fading daylight.

  When she crawled in, she gulped at the predatory look he gave her. Streetlights gleamed over his dark hair and shadows shaded his eyes. His dark green Henley and black jeans added to the sinister effect.

  “Ready for the surprise?”

  Her first instinct was to say no. The change from how he’d left last night to this set off faint alarms. “Absolutely.”

  He leaned over and brushed her lips with his. “You’ll have to wait.” With a wink, he tore off.

  He didn’t talk much so she tried to guess what he had planned. When he started slowing down and making turns, she couldn’t believe it.

  “The airport?”

  He grinned. “Just wait.”

  She’d never flown anywhere, none of it was familiar, but he seemed to be driving places most normal people wouldn’t.

  What was he pulling?

  “Come on.”

  He pulled her out in the brisk air and she had to trot to keep up with the hold he had on her hand.

  A small white plane with blue lines sat with blinking lights. A small set of stairs ran down from an open door.

  “Sam?”

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Surprise.”

  He hustled her inside and her eyes widened at the sophisticated cabin. What style would her old friend have called this? Business mogul contemporary?

  A man in a pilot’s uniform shut them into the plane and her chest squeezed in a burst of claustrophobia. He avoided looking at them as he disappeared back into the cockpit.

  Wes settled her into a puffy leather chair, and as she stared around her, not sure if she should be thrilled, or scared, or both, he buckled her in. Somehow, she heard the click over her pounding heart. Wes sat next to her and buckled himself in.

  She craned her neck over the seats. There was no one else on the flight. This plane and the way it screamed make it rain fit the image of Wes’s head shot, the one Ephraim had showed her. Modern, upscale. She could imagine him in a suit by a designer she couldn’t afford to hear the name of, relaxed in a chair, swirling a glass of the Macallan he’d ordered the night they’d met.

  The Wes she pictured in this plane, looming in that office tower by Arcadia, was not the Wes she’d come to know, the Wes she thought she’d known.

  A man’s voice filled the cabin from a hidden speaker. “Sir, prepare for takeoff.”

  Wes leaned over. “I promised to cover all the safety measures with you in order to fly with minimal crew.”

  “What’s going on?” A tendril of unease snaked through her. A man who was pretending to be another man was stealing her away at night on a private jet.

  Mothers everywhere probably felt like it was too absurd to warn their daughters about situations like this.

  “Sam?”

  He did a double take at the tremor in her voice and asked in an incredulous voice, “You’re not scared, are you?”

  “You have a private jet?”

  His expression shut down. “Business is good.” He shrugged, his tone flat. “What can I say?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. She was so in over her head. He’d grown up manipulating people; what had she been thinking when she’d thought to fool him? Confronting him as soon as she found out was what she should’ve done. Hindsight shows the target on a fool’s ass, old Sam had always said.

  “I’ll save the real surprise for when we’re in the air.”

  Her fingers curled to unhook her seatbelt as panic threatened to set in. “Take me back.”

  The plane lurched forward and she gripped her seat, white knuckling it all the way through taxiing. His hand landed on top of hers.

  “Relax.” His voice was surprisingly soft. “I have some business in New York, but I had something really important to talk with you about. Two birds, one stone, and all that.”

  As the plane sped up and the roar of the engine grew louder, she gulped, not wanting to be one of the birds he was dealing with.

  He held her hand all through takeoff until the cabin light dinged that it was safe to move around.

  He unbuckled himself and stood. “Lemme show you around.”

  She got to her feet to discover her knees were wobbly. She didn’t fear Wes. He might be a monster in business, but while this situation and how he was acting sent warning flares up left and right, he would never physically hurt her. Seduce her, yes. Fly her to a strange city… They were flying to New York? She had to work in the morning. Could she use her cell phone to call Chris and see if he could open?

  “If you have to use the facilities, it’s that door there.”

  She spotted the narrow lavatory door.

  He swirled his hand where he stood by a glossy wooden table surrounded by four plush chairs. “This is my meeting room. You’re where we sit during takeoff and landing or when we want to ignore each other.”

  “We?”

  “My staff.” His piercing blue eyes pinned her in place. “If you want a drink, we have a fully stocked wet bar.”

  A glass of something strong sounded appealing.

  She forced her feet to move. “I need to use the restroom.”

  Shuffling past him, she kept her gaze riveted to the red carpeted floor with each step instead of him.

  “You don’t look well. There’s a bedroom beyond the toilet, if you need to lay down—after we talk.”

  She closed her eyes and paused briefly. Wes Robson had a private bedroom in his private plane. How charming. Was it an exclusive club?

  Why did it break her heart to think of him dallying with randoms in his plane?

  The lavatory made her bathroom look gloriously spacious. She leaned on the pristine sink counter, all two inches of it, and stared at her reflection.

  What was Wes up to? What had changed for him to surprise her? How much more could he do to her other than take her livelihood away?

  She took a fortifying breath and unlatched the door.

  “I didn’t think you were ever coming out.” He took a step toward her, the familiar heat in his gaze. “Do you feel like lying down?”

  “No,” she said abruptly. No matter what he was up to, she’d be putty as soon as he touched her.

  He stepped back, calm mask back in place. “Okay. So…have a seat.”

  She chose a plush chair on the opposite of the table from him. He took a seat.

  They watched each other, like poker players not knowing what the other’s hand held.

  She glanced out the window. Nothing but black sk
y. “How long is the flight?”

  “About two more hours.”

  “Then New York, huh?”

  “Excited?”

  “I have no money, no luggage. And I work in the morning.” She ran her hands up and down what had to be leather armrests. When he didn’t reply, she struggled to find a neutral topic. “How was your day?”

  A haughty lift of a brow. “Informative. And yours?”

  “Fine. I had a nice visit with my mom.”

  His right eye twitched. “How is Wendy?”

  “She’s well. I haven’t told her I’m losing the store. Stress isn’t good for her.”

  Another near wince. Could she appeal to his sensitivities?

  “Why don’t you open another store again?”

  “Money. Not all of us have it.”

  “But you do.”

  “Pardon?”

  He reached down to a briefcase and withdrew a folder. “You have, in fact, over a million dollars.”

  She quit stroking the chair. He’d said his day was informative. Now she knew why. And this was how he wanted to talk about it, by mixing her in with New York business.

  “What’s this about, Wes?”

  “It’s about—” His steel gaze glared at her as it dawned on him what name she’d used. He rested back, a mask of calm in place. “I guess I don’t need to introduce myself.”

  Her hands twisted on her lap. “I didn’t know who you really were until last Saturday, when you visited the store. One of the guys recognized you and enlightened me as to who my new boyfriend was.”

  “Boyfriend?” His voice filled with derision. “Were we exclusive?”

  Ouch. Like a rabbit punch to the sternum.

  “I was,” she said in ragged whisper.

  His only tell was the muscle jumping in his jaw. “And you happily played along.”

  “I wanted to show you how normal people lived since you seem to think I did something so atrocious.”

  Rage clouded his features. “Do normal people stop at cemeteries with their new boyfriends? That was dirty, Mara.”

  She swallowed. He was correct, it’d been a desperate move and one that probably had torn him apart.

  “He was my friend and I miss him. I thought you’d finally see how much he meant to me and that I wasn’t using him.”

  “You seduced him.”

  “I did not. And I resent that because I have breasts, you think I’d use them to get what I want in life. Do you do that when you’re working? Have sex to get a contract?”

  His expression turned incredulous. Well, there was that about him. His work ethic didn’t cross the line even if he did in other ways.

  “Sam and I were friends.”

  He barked out a laugh. “I have a good friend and at no time have I ever thought to offer him any of my properties or holdings for a mere dollar.”

  The tension drained out of her. He didn’t believe her and countered with arrogant confidence every point she made. So, this was the real Wes. The man people faced in the boardroom. The guy a whole neighborhood in New York despised.

  “Is your friend on the brink of losing his home and the care his mother needs?”

  “He works for a living.”

  She recoiled like she’d been slapped. “I work hard for what I have.”

  He flung a sheet of paper across the table. “Except for the cool million that was given to you.”

  She scooted to the edge of her chair to double check the paper. “My trust? Is that what you’re talking about?”

  “Who’s William Kostopoulos?”

  She stood up and threw the sheet back at him. He flinched but the paper only fluttered to the floor. “My grandfather.”

  The cabin wasn’t large, but she had a good five steps to pace in anger.

  “Your mom was never married. He’s not a Baranski.”

  She planted her hands on her hips and faced him, leaning forward. “Have your people do a better job. My mom took her stepdad’s name. My grandparents divorced when she was a baby. My grandma remarried and they moved out of Greece. Grandpa Kostopoulos died when I was young, but he distributed his wealth to all his grandkids, me and the ones from his second wife. I told you I had a soft spot for Greece. Get it? Arcadia.”

  His only reaction was the slight narrowing of his eyes. Her grandparents’ story didn’t move him? Good grief, the real Wes was intimidating. And heartless.

  “Cornering me in this plane was despicable.”

  He didn’t stand but leaned forward in his chair. “Me? Between you and Sam, I don’t know who makes me more sick.”

  Not even a raised voice and here she was quivering from hurt and anger.

  “He loved you. And I didn’t seem to make you sick all those times we had sex.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Occupational hazard.”

  She blew out an exaggerated puff of air. Her heart seized like a vice had tightened around it with the stark realization he in no way cared for her. At all.

  “Explain why an old man latches onto a woman in her early twenties.”

  “He had no children that spoke to him and I had no father.”

  “Still with the ‘just friends’ story?” He reached back into that damn case and extracted two more papers.

  He had more on her. Her heart hammered and dread rose. Please, no.

  “What about Dr. Jake Johannsen? Were you two just friends? His wife—excuse me, ex-wife—didn’t think so.”

  Her face grew cold as blood drained from it. He went there. Took her personal nightmare and used it against her.

  “Jake was a sexual predator.”

  “Was that why you fucked him for a better grade?”

  Hot tears rolled down her face. “Did you see the rest of my grades? As and Bs. Did you ask yourself why I was suddenly failing? Because I certainly didn’t understand. And maybe I would’ve thought about it if my mom hadn’t been so sick and if I hadn’t been making myself sick trying to care for her.”

  Wes settled back and crossed one leg over the other and clasped his hands in front of his stomach.

  At least he was willing to listen.

  “I couldn’t afford more school. I didn’t know about my grandfather’s trust because I was still twenty-one. Mom didn’t tell me partly because she didn’t believe it herself and partly because she knew I’d use the money for her.”

  Mara paced. Tears dripped onto her shirt. “Then Jake was all ‘let’s talk in my office’ and he was so understanding. I poured my heart out to him. He didn’t wear a wedding ring, you know. No pictures around the office.”

  She didn’t quit moving. Wouldn’t look at Wes. She hadn’t told anyone but her therapist what had happened.

  “I didn’t plan to sleep with him; I wasn’t interested. Then May rolled around and I was sitting five points below a D. ‘D for degree,’ right? I was so desperate. He listened to me, kept telling me it’d be okay. And I let my guard down and he made his move. I said no, but he said he wanted to help, and I was smart enough to know I wouldn’t pass if I didn’t have sex with him.”

  She shoved her bangs out of her face. “He was a handful of years older than me so I didn’t think it’d hurt anyone else. Then he kept wanting it, and there were only two more weeks of school. I just had to make it two more weeks and I’d be done and get the passing grade.” All those emotions rolled back. Humiliation, stupidity, the shame. Turned out she still hated herself for it. “But turned out he had a wife and she found out what his late hours meant and she gunned for me hard. I couldn’t blame her.”

  Drawing in a ragged breath, she faced Wes, who hadn’t moved. “I’m certain he tampered with my grade, and I even made the accusation, but the wife had more pull than I did. I didn’t graduate and was looking for a job when we got news of the money from my grandfather.”

  “Convenient explanations, all of them.” His lip curled in disgust.

  Her temper snapped. “What do you want, Wes?” she shouted and abruptly lowered her volume. �
�I’m not the villain. I had a successful and generous grandfather and a piece of shit professor. Sam had no friends. All he had were memories of his time with you.”

  “Yet he spent all his time with you.”

  “So. What,” she spat.

  “Do you know how much that strip mall is worth?”

  She flung her hands out. “I don’t give a shit.”

  “Ten million.”

  Much of her anger drained. “Bullshit. It’s a run-down, old building.”

  “Look what it’s surrounded by. I quoted list price. It would’ve assessed at much more. You were going to fleece Sam for ten million. Oh, I’m sorry. Nine million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars.”

  “He wanted to help me because he knew you wouldn’t,” she hissed. “You’re too much like your mother.”

  Wes shot out of his chair. “I am nothing like her.”

  He glared at her and stalked around the table. She backed up and with startling clarity realized it wasn’t because she was scared, but because the real Wes was more potent than watered-down Wes.

  “I’m sure Sam told you a lot in your time together.”

  “He did. Because that’s what friends do. Unlike you, he supported me.”

  “It’s what men around you seem to do. Support you a whole lot.”

  She reared back. “You’re talking about my grandfather.”

  Now Wes’s hands were planted on his hips and he towered over her. “I’ll have to verify who he was to you.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Regardless, your track record with a professor doesn’t shine a positive light on your relationship with Sam.”

  “I was taken advantage of.” She bit out each word.

  “So you decided to do the same to an old man? You’re a millionaire and it wasn’t good enough for you.”

  “Are you serious? How far do you think a million will go if my mom lives ten years? Twenty years?” She choked back a sob because she doubted her mom would make it that long. “And let’s see, factor in at least two hospital stays each year, plus her medication? I’ll be lucky if that money lasts a decade.”

  Wes’s attention was zeroed on her, but for once, he seemed to consider her explanation.

  She swiped at her eyes. “I’m glad you met my mom because you probably wouldn’t even believe I have one.”