Billionaire for Hire Read online

  It was interesting news, but I wasn’t going to give Zane the satisfaction of admitting that. Instead I lifted a shoulder. “Go figure.”

  He let out a huff of breath. “Anyway, the reason I called,” he continued.

  “Yes, why did you call?” I asked.

  It certainly seemed it wasn’t so we could go out and have a good time together. And since he wasn’t going to let me have any fun with his receptionist I was really wondering why I’d taken the time to come over here.

  “I need your help.” There was no more joking in his tone.

  Gone was my cocky, smart-ass friend and here instead was Zane the businessman.

  Or, more accurately, Zane the deadly serious SEAL.

  THREE

  I’d seen this side of him when he’d worked a case for me earlier in the year.

  That the serious version of Zane was back was intriguing. That he wanted my help, even more so.

  “You need my help?” I frowned. “On what?”

  I mean I could help him with business advice if he needed it, although his father could do that also.

  Then again, those two got along like oil and water. Or more accurately like gasoline and fire.

  My attention was redirected when Zane used a remote control to turn on a flat screen television I hadn’t noticed hanging on the side wall.

  A few taps of Zane’s fingers on his computer keyboard and the screensaver showing his corporate logo switched to what looked like a website. Specifically the home page of a charity event.

  “You have any connections with anyone at this thing?” Zane asked.

  I read the name of the event and the not-for-profit it benefited and neither rang a bell.

  “Can I see who’s running it?” I asked.

  Zane clicked some more and the page showing the names of the event committee and donors appeared. He scrolled down and finally I saw a list of some of the more high profile guests.

  It was like a who’s who of the rich and famous of the Hamptons. Actors. Designers. Celebrity chefs. Corporate moguls.

  “Yeah. I know quite a few.”

  “Think you could wrangle a ticket?”

  “A ticket to this event?” I asked, surprised at the question.

  He nodded.

  “Probably. And why would I want to do that?” I asked.

  It was a ten thousand dollar a head fundraiser. One of those things you attended because you had to, kissed a bunch of cheeks, ate tiny food from silver platters, drank strong drinks if you were lucky, and then left the moment the speeches by the organizers were done.

  “Because I asked you to,” Zane began. I raised a brow as he continued, “and because you owe me one.”

  It seemed Zane was going to keep me waiting yet again for information. I had more questions than ever but he was correct, I did owe him.

  Apparently it was time to pay up.

  “I can make a call and see. But why do you need me to get you a ticket? You’ve got plenty of connections.” I would think Zane having a senator for a father-in-law would open all sorts of closed doors.

  “I already called and inquired about tickets. Apparently it’s very exclusive and sold out—or so they claim. You think you can make the cut and get in?”

  It sounded like a challenge. The bastard knew I couldn’t resist a challenge.

  “Sure. No problem. But why do you want to attend this thing anyway?”

  I stood and pulled my cell out of my pocket, before sitting again. I scrolled to my contact list while Zane watched me.

  “The ticket is for you to attend, not me,” Zane informed me.

  I stopped my scrolling and glanced up, frowning. “Me? Why me?”

  “Very good question. Given how exclusive this event is, my muscling my way in would look odd. Your attendance, however, wouldn’t raise any suspicions.”

  Zane was right. The Hearsts had a strong social footprint and plenty of real estate in the Hamptons. And the family, myself included, had a history of philanthropy. My wanting to attend wouldn’t raise any questions.

  In fact, the only oddity in this whole situation was that someone from my family wasn’t already on the guest list or the planning committee.

  I nodded my agreement. “Makes sense. That still doesn’t tell me why you want me at this event in the first place.”

  “I’ll explain that when you get off the call and have the ticket secured.”

  “Full of intrigue, I see.” How SEAL-like of him. I drew in a breath. “All right. I’ll give it a try. And I suppose I’ll be footing the bill for this ticket?”

  I raised my gaze to his before going back to scrolling through my contact list.

  “Relax. GAPS will be covering all your expenses.”

  More and more interesting, but I could see I wasn’t getting any answers from him until I had proven I was worthy. And to do that, I needed an official invite to this purportedly exclusive event.

  My path to getting a ticket was clear. I had a standing invitation to stay at my Uncle Bunky’s place in Bridgehampton anytime I wanted, but I figured at his advanced age he didn’t have any current connections to get me a ticket. My aunt, however, did.

  I stopped at the number I’d sought and hit the screen to make the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Aunt Anne. It’s Brent.”

  “Brent. Good to hear from you. It’s been too long since we’ve seen you.”

  “It has. I was hoping to correct that and spend some time at Uncle Bunky’s soon.”

  “That’s wonderful. You’ll have to visit us in Water Mill. We’re here at the farm.”

  Exactly what I wanted to hear. “I’d love that. Um, while I have you on the phone, do you know anything about the charity event in Southampton next weekend?”

  “The one being held at the Prentice place?” she asked.

  “That’s the one. I believe it’s to benefit a literacy not-for-profit. I’d love to attend. I need a focus for next year’s corporate donations and this charity is a perfect fit. But I heard the event’s sold out. They’re not letting anyone else in.”

  “Pfft. We’ll see about that. How many tickets did you need?”

  She’d reacted exactly as I’d hoped. It seemed no Hearst could resist the lure of a challenge.

  “How many tickets do I need? Hmm, let me see.” I eyed Zane, looking for an answer. He held up one finger. “Just one should do it. It’s work so I won’t be bringing a date.”

  “Smart boy. That way you can network . . . and flirt with all the pretty girls.”

  “Exactly. You know me so well, Aunt Anne.”

  “I should. I’ve known you your whole life. All right. I know the event chair. Let me make a phone call. Is this number the best one to call you back?” she asked.

  “It is. I look forward to hearing from you. And thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  I disconnected the call and raised my gaze to Zane. “Now would you like to explain?”

  “Do you have the ticket?” he asked.

  “I will in a few minutes.”

  “Then I’ll explain in a few minutes.” He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, settling in for the wait, I guessed.

  Bastard.

  I leaned back and folded my arms. I could wait with the best of them.

  “So, where you staying in Virginia nowadays?” Zane asked. “Middleburg or someplace equally snooty. Rubbing elbows with the horse set. Playing polo on weekends.”

  I guess we were going to make small talk until I either got a ticket or not. And, apparently, he was going to take a few jabs at me and my lifestyle while we did it.

  “Nope.” I shook my head, not at all sorry to disappoint him by blowing his guess regarding my living arrangements completely out of the water. “I’ve got an apartment in one of the buildings a couple of blocks from the King Street Metro.”

  “Really?” His eyes widened. “I’m surprised.”

  I laughed. “You shouldn’t be. At thi
s point in my life, with the amount of hours I work and all the traveling I do, the things I look for in a home have become a bit more practical. Such as being able to drop off my dry cleaning with the concierge on my way out. Besides, what the fuck would I do with a horse?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Beats me. I never understood the appeal myself.”

  I snorted. “You wouldn’t. If I remember correctly you never even had a dog growing up. Do you now?”

  “No. I’ll get around to it—one day.”

  I had a feeling that one day would be when Zane’s new bride Missy popped out the first Alexander baby. Then he’d be trading in his second-floor walk-up for a house with a yard and a picket fence.

  My cell rang and interrupted my thoughts about Zane’s future progeny. I glanced at the display and smiled.

  “That’s her. Get ready to explain yourself.” I shot him a warning glare and answered the call. “Hello.”

  “You’ll have one ticket waiting for you at the door under your name at the event. She said you can bring a check that night.”

  I knew Aunt Anne could do it. Grateful as well as victorious, I said, “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “It was nothing. Seriously. At least one Hearst should be on that guest list, if not more than one. It was their oversight.”

  “My thoughts exactly, but I do appreciate you making the call. I’ll be in touch when I get to Long Island and we’ll make plans.”

  “Perfect. Give our love to your parents and sisters.”

  “Will do. And please tell my ever elusive cousin Amanda I’ll expect to see her there when I visit.”

  “I certainly will. See you soon.”

  “Sure thing. Bye.” I hit the button and tossed the cell onto the desk between us. “The ticket is secured. Now talk.”

  Even now he paused, like he was reluctant to bring me into the loop.

  Finally, he leaned back in his chair and drew in a breath. “Everything I’m about to tell you can’t leave this room. You can’t tell your family. You can’t breathe a word of it to your latest squeeze. You tell no one. Understood?”

  Zane pinned me with his gaze, as if sizing up if he could trust me or not.

  “Yes.” I waited but he still didn’t talk. I shook my head at the fact he didn’t trust me. “Zane, do you know how many family secrets I’m carrying around? Not to mention confidential Hearst Corp. business? I sit on the board of directors. Even our meeting minutes are top secret. I can keep your secrets. I promise.”

  After another pause, more annoying and longer than the first, he nodded. “All right.”

  He clicked the computer keyboard and then spun his chair to face the television on the wall.

  I did the same and saw the image had changed from the event page to a picture of a dark haired, middle-aged man.

  “Who’s that?” I asked, not recognizing him.

  “He is Alexey Mordashov, currently the richest man in Russia.” Zane spun in his chair to face me again. “And it would look really bad if someone took a shot at him while he was attending a charity event in the Hamptons next weekend. Which is where you come in.”

  My eyes widened as I shifted my attention from the screen to Zane. “Me?”

  FOUR

  With all of Zane’s hired muscle and firepower at his disposal, I was his choice of bodyguards for this Russian billionaire?

  What the hell?

  “Would you like to explain that?” I asked, still recovering from the shock of Zane’s statement.

  “It’s pretty simple. I’m figuring Mordashov getting killed on American soil might cause a bit of an international incident, so we’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

  I heard his words, spoken as casually as if we were discussing the weather, but they still didn’t make any sense. Particularly the we, since I was apparently now part of that we.

  “Why is that our responsibility? Isn’t there the Secret Service to handle important shit such as keeping high profile visiting foreigners alive?”

  Zane shook his head. “US and Russian relations are complicated. The White House can’t appear as if they’re giving preferential treatment to a Russian billionaire attending a party in the Hamptons.”

  “No, I guess not. So then what about private security? Hell, this is a job for GAPS.” From what I knew, Zane and his company’s security team could handle this with their eyes closed.

  “Exactly. It is a GAPS job. And I’m bringing you in on it.”

  I shook my head. “I really don’t understand. I’m supposed to be this guy’s bodyguard instead of you? Why? Just because it’s a fancy fundraiser? You own a tuxedo. I’ll give you my ticket. You can use my name. No one will care.”

  “It’s not the dress code preventing me from going in. It’s Mordashov himself.”

  As I sat there, open-mouthed, still trying to absorb it all, Zane leaned forward.

  “Look, this guy is the son of steel workers. He’s a completely self-made man. He fancies himself a man of the people and he doesn’t think he needs security.”

  “But you disagree.”

  “I do, and so does the client. So we’re going to provide him with security without him knowing.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean? Why what?”

  “Why is his life in danger?” I clarified.

  I mean you can’t throw a rock in the Hamptons without hitting a billionaire so why was this Russian any different?

  “Mordashov has this idea. Some sort of hi-tech online educational ecosystem that would educate a person from kindergarten to after retirement. Lifetime learning, he calls it."

  "How is he going to do that?" I asked, thinking this man's concept sounded interesting.

  "I guess it focuses on retraining for different workforce needs at different stages of life . . ." Zane's forehead creased with a frown. "I don’t know the specifics. His mission isn’t the point."

  "What is the point?" I asked, still not getting why I was here or why anyone would want to kill Mordashov.

  "That he’s already aggressively acquiring the corporations he needs to do it and he’s got his eye on more he’s planning to scoop up in the US. That and his eighteen and a half billion dollar fortune could make him a target.”

  “Then if you and your client,” whoever the hell this mysterious client was, “are that concerned, just tell this Russian guy he has to have security while he’s here whether he thinks he needs it or not.”

  “Like I already told you, we tried and he refused.”

  “So what? Tell him that’s just too bad. He has to have a bodyguard.”

  Zane pressed his lips together and shook his head. “It’s not that simple. He’s only going to be in the country a short time. Literally less than a day. It’s just easier to not have him or anyone else know that we’re concerned or that we’re protecting him. I can cover him from his plane to the event and back again. It’s easy enough to have one of my guys replace the driver. But inside the event, an uninvited stranger suddenly showing up with a ticket will stick out. Raise suspicions. You being there won’t.”

  Again, I didn’t understand. “But what can I do? I’m not trained.”

  “You’ve got two eyes, don’t you?”

  I rolled those eyes now. “Yes.”

  “And two ears?”

  I was getting more than annoyed with him and his game by the second. “Yes, of course.”

  “That’s all you need. Well that, and the communications device I’ll give you. As I said, my guy will be parked right outside the house. This thing goes sideways, he can be inside in seconds. All we need is a set of eyes and ears inside the party. Keep an eye on who he talks to. You see anyone or anything suspicious, anything out of the ordinary, you let us know.”

  “That’s it?” I asked, understandably skeptical.

  “That’s it.” He nodded. “I trust you.”

  “Do you?”

  He cocked his head to one side. “You wouldn’t be sitting here i
f I didn’t.”

  I had my doubts about that, because Zane’s whole story reeked of bull shit to me. I might not know some of the things he did as a veteran Navy SEAL, but I knew business. And I had my suspicions about why this mysterious client really wanted eyes on Mordashov.

  More likely they were watching to see whom he met with while on US soil, perhaps to determine which corporations where in his crosshairs for future acquisition.

  That theory made a hell of a lot more sense than this guy refusing security when his life could be in danger.

  I eyed my good old prep school buddy and wondered. Was the client lying to him? Was he lying to me? I might have to resign myself to never knowing the truth.

  Still, I figured my best chance to find out what was really going on might be to just go through with it. See things with my own eyes.

  Jaw set, I said, “Okay.”

  “Good. Oh, and I need you to block off an hour or two this week for you and me to go to the gun range.”

  My eyes popped wide. “The gun—” I cleared my throat as it tightened. “Why?”

  I had a bad feeling I knew the answer before Zane said, “I want to make sure you’re comfortable with a handgun. And I want you to get used to wearing a leg holster.”

  A leg holster? Jesus. Maybe I was wrong about this being about business because the corporate takeovers I’d been privy to didn’t involve weapons.

  My narrowed gaze met Zane’s. “How do you know I even have a gun permit?”

  “That information wasn’t hard to find. Besides, I’ve known you forever. I know your family has a gun collection and I know you got your permit so you could legally inherit that collection.”

  “That’s the word you seem to be missing the meaning of. It’s a collection. I don’t shoot them. We certainly don’t carry them around in leg holsters.”

  “I happen to know that you do shoot them on occasion. I was there for the skeet shooting competition you set up that summer senior year. Remember?”

  Shooting skeet was sport. This, what Zane was suggesting, was—I couldn’t even put a name to it. Or maybe I could. It was crazy.

  I shook the idea of this insanity out of my rattled mind. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Half of the collection is in California. And the weapons here on the East Coast are all antiques and locked up at my parents’ house.”