Secret Affair with the Millionaire (The Rochesters) Page 2

  With the help of the Schofields’ finance department, Dane had come up with a reasonable bid proposal, but he still had to sell it, and that’s where his inexperience in the hotel business was likely to let him down.

  Saffron shook her head. “Don’t know why you’re bothering. You’re rich and free. You could do whatever you want, go wherever you choose.”

  “I know.”

  Instead of pandering to his dad, he could be out there searching for his mystery woman. Olivia. She was out there somewhere; she could even be strolling outside his dad’s building right this minute. The night they’d spent together was branded in his mind forever. One sizzling night of sex and laughter and connection. The next morning he’d woken to an empty bed. The plummeting of his stomach still lingered.

  The hotel where they’d stayed naturally refused to hand out information on their guests. He had a PI working on the case. So far, no luck. As soon as Dane was finished with this hotel bid, he’d get back to tracking his woman down. Sure, there was always the chance that meeting her again would be a letdown, but she was worth the risk. And besides, he’d never be able to rest until he’d found her.

  “I hope you win,” Saffron said, breaking into his thoughts. “It’d be cool if Eric wasn’t in charge of everything.” She grimaced as she fiddled with her earphones. “Dad says when he goes, Eric will be my guardian. Ugh. Can’t think of anything worse.”

  Dark memories clawed at Dane. Memories of Eric crowing over him, shoving him, punching him. Loser. Jackass. Mommy’s boy. His gut clenched. He could understand why Saffron didn’t want Eric controlling her life.

  The front door to the penthouse opened. His brother Eric strolled in and smirked at them.

  “Hey, it’s Dumb and Dumber.”

  Dane cocked his head. “Hey, it’s The Biggest Loser.”

  Saffron smothered a giggle. Eric threw her a poisonous glare before returning his attention to Dane. “Watch your tongue, shrimp.”

  When Dane was a boy, he’d never stood a chance against his larger, stronger brother. But in the twelve years since he’d left home, he’d gained several inches and a whole lot of muscle. He was heavier and taller than Eric now. Plus, he’d been in enough bar brawls to know how to take care of himself.

  “Or what?” Dane spread his feet apart and folded his arms. “You’re gonna give me one of your special noogies again?”

  Eric puffed out his chest. Go on, Dane silently dared him. Take a swing at me. Just one.

  “Don’t need to,” Eric snapped. “I’m going to enjoy watching you fall flat on your face all by yourself today. You don’t stand a chance of winning the bid.”

  Something about the arrogant shithead loosened Dane’s tongue. “Oh yeah? Care to put a bet on that, bro?”

  “Betting? Is that how you scrape by these days?”

  “I scrape by okay. Is fifty grand too rich for you?” Jesus, what was wrong with him? He never bet on anything, but Eric always knew how to get under his skin.

  Eric gave a scoffing laugh. “You’re on.”

  “Good. When I win, I’ll give your fifty grand to Saffron. She can buy a Merc with your dough.”

  Saffron chuckled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  “Shut the fuck up.” Eric took a menacing step toward his sister, but she scampered away, still grinning. “That little bitch—”

  Dane interrupted him. “Jesus, Eric, she’s your sister!”

  “Half-sister, and she’s still a bitch.” Eric wiped his mouth. “When Dad goes I’m going to enjoy making her life miserable.”

  Dane stared at his brother. Shit. Eric had everything—money, power, position, and the lion’s share of their father’s approval. But it wasn’t enough. He’d bullied Dane, and now he’d turned his attention to Saffron, and she had no one to protect her. Except for Dane. He could talk to his dad, try to get him to show an interest in Saffron. But first he had to impress Martin by clearing that hurdle he’d set him.

  Suddenly, there was a lot more riding on this Gilbert bid than Dane had anticipated, and he wasn’t sure he was up to it.

  ***

  As they approached the Gilberts’ mansion, Dane tugged at his cuffs and cricked his neck. He wasn’t used to suit and tie. When he was running his motorcycle retail business back in Texas, he’d show up to work in jeans, leather jacket, and boots. But now, as a representative of the Schofield empire, he wore a hand-tailored, charcoal gray suit with a white dress shirt and silk tie.

  “You should have had a shave,” Martin said, sitting opposite him in the chauffeured limo.

  Dane fingered the stubble on his jaw. He kept his two-day-growth carefully trimmed, but of course to his dad it just looked like he was too lazy to bother. Maybe the Gilberts, who were in their seventies, would think the same thing. Damn.

  Seated next to his dad, Eric gave him another smirk.

  “At least your goddamn tattoos are covered up,” Martin continued to grumble. “Don’t want the Gilberts thinking my son is some gangster.”

  “Tattoos are pretty mainstream these days,” Dane said.

  His father shook his head. “The Gilberts don’t live in the real world. They do things their own theatrical way. That’s why they’ve invited all the bidders to their house, and in secret, too. We won’t know who we’re up against until we get there.”

  “We?” Eric turned to his father. “What’s this ‘we’ business? Dane has to get the Halifax Hotel all by himself. That’s the challenge you set. You can’t help him.”

  Martin waved off his son’s objections. “Yes, yes. Dane’s on his own. But I’m curious to see who the competition is.”

  “Plenty of people want to get their hands on that hotel.” Eric smiled at Dane. “I’d say your chances of winning are less than one percent.”

  Dane smiled back at him. “Get your checkbook ready, bro. I’m not losing today.”

  But as they walked up to the Gilberts’ mansion, he wondered what he’d let himself in for. A butler greeted them at the front door and showed them through to a huge reception room hung with enormous chandeliers and gloomy portraits of long dead ancestors. It felt like he’d walked into Downton Abbey, Dane thought as a server offered them crystal flutes of sparkling champagne. About thirty people mingled in the reception room, all of them in formal suits, the women included.

  The Gilberts came up to welcome them. The septuagenarian brother and sister were small and spry, Lizzie wearing a long floral dress, white gloves, and ropes of pearl necklaces, while Humbert sported a cream suit, cream loafers, and white Panama hat.

  “Oh, my.” Lizzie peered at Dane’s stubble after they’d shaken hands. “That’s an interesting look, young man.”

  “Lizzie, he might be one of those hippy fellows,” Humbert said.

  “Really! How interesting.”

  As soon as the Gilberts moved on, Eric said to Dane, “I don’t think they’d be happy selling their precious hotel to a ‘hippy fellow.’”

  Dane was about to answer back when his father nudged Eric. “Look over there. It’s the Rochesters. Why do they have to turn up? Damn Rochesters.”

  Following the direction of his father’s scowl, Dane saw two men standing on the opposite side of the room. They were both tall and immaculately dressed, exuding success and confidence.

  “So those are the Rochesters,” Dane said. “Our mortal enemies, right?”

  Eric turned on him. “Don’t joke. The Rochesters are a bunch of hyenas always stealing from under our noses.”

  Since Dane had returned to San Francisco, he’d heard plenty of grousing from his father about the Rochesters. Their rivals ran a very successful business, which was why he’d checked into one of the Rochesters’ hotels in Lake Tahoe under a false name two weeks ago. To see what the opposition was doing so right. Only problem was, the sultry woman in the room next door had completely distracted him from his mission.

  “Huh, Ralph Rochester.” Martin shook his head. “Didn’t realize he was getting involved again.
And that’s his son, Kirk.” He turned to Dane, rubbing his hands. “Well, this puts more fuel in the rocket. If the Rochesters are in this race, then you definitely have to win it for us.”

  “You don’t stand a chance,” Eric scoffed.

  “Be quiet, Eric. I’m talking to Dane.”

  What was happening? His father favoring him at Eric’s expense? Surprised, Dane focused his attention on his father. “Why don’t you like the Rochesters? Is it personal?”

  “No time to go into that now.” Clapping a hand on Dane’s shoulder, Martin lowered his voice. “Just remember you’ll be doing me a huge favor if you get one over them, son.”

  Dane’s chest tightened. His father was practically hugging him and calling him ‘son’. When last had that happened? Never. Things were changing, and all because of this challenge.

  If he beat the Rochesters and won the bid, then he’d gain Martin’s approval. He’d be able to honor his mom’s dying wish. He’d also be in a better position to help Saffron. And he might even be able to build that bridge between himself and his father. He’d always thought he didn’t need any relationship with his father. But the weight of his father’s hand on his shoulder showed him he was wrong. No matter how far he’d come, no matter how independent and rich he was, he was still that son who wanted to please his dad.

  “I’ll try my best.”

  The two Rochesters were staring at them across the room. The older one—Ralph—muttered something to his son while he glared at them, his face mottled, his teeth bared. Jeez, did people hate the Schofields that much? Dumb question. He knew firsthand how ruthless his father and brother could be. Turning back to Martin, he saw the same antipathy scoring his cancer-hollowed face.

  All this conflict. Did he really want to be part of it? Old instincts kicked in; the only way he knew how to survive. He stepped away from his family.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, and, before they could protest, he spun around and walked away.

  He was pushing past a knot of people, when a flash of platinum blonde hair caught his attention. He halted, all his attention locked onto the petite woman walking away from him, her short, silky hair gleaming like frosted silver. He sucked in a breath. That hair, that figure, that swing of her hips. It had to be…

  “Olivia.”

  She kept on walking. He strode forward, his head buzzing, his footfalls heavy. Seeming to sense his presence, she glanced over her shoulder, then stumbled to a halt. Blue eyes widened as pure shock washed over her face.

  “Arlen?”

  His ribs ached as he sucked in a breath. He couldn’t believe it. Here, of all places…

  People were glancing curiously at them, but he had eyes only for her. Fine, delicate features emphasized by the feathery, pixie haircut. A slim figure, supple as a dancer. Gray suit, gray pumps, and pearl earrings. Somehow the clothes didn’t look right on her, not the woman he knew from that one, unforgettable night.

  Her gaze swept over him. “Wow, you look, um, different.” She wore the same dazed expression he must have. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.” But the answer was already dawning on both of them. “Are you…”

  Before he could complete the question, two men appeared behind her.

  “Holly?” one of them asked her. “We’ve been looking for you.”

  Holly? Was that her real name? What the hell was going on?

  A soft flush rose in her cheeks. “Sorry, Dad. I, er, got distracted.”

  Dane tore his gaze away from her to glance at the men.

  Oh, fuck no. This could not be happening. Ralph and Kirk Rochester stood on either side of her. The woman he knew as Olivia. The woman he’d been searching for, the woman he couldn’t forget.

  “Holly,” he said, eyes locked onto hers. “Is that your real name? Holly Rochester?”

  Her throat moved as she swallowed. “Yes.”

  “And you are?” Ralph asked abruptly. His lowering brow told Dane that he’d already spotted him with Martin and Eric.

  His stomach clenched, but he lifted his chin. “Dane Schofield, sir. I’m here with my father and brother, Martin and Eric Schofield.”

  Ralph made a guttural noise in his throat before he put his hand on Holly’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get some clean air somewhere else.”

  Holly threw a puzzled glance at Dane but didn’t protest as her father and brother led her away.

  Chapter Two

  Holly tried to get her breathing under control as she and her brother and father made for the opposite end of the reception room. Her brain was still swirling, trying to make sense of the last five minutes.

  Arlen wasn’t Arlen after all. He was Dane. He’d used a fake name; just like her. Whatever his name, he looked insanely hot, the tailored business suit highlighting his chiseled-jaw sexiness, the raw surprise lighting up his unusual green eyes.

  She twisted her head, attempting to locate him in the crowd, but there were too many suits in front of her, and she was too short. Where was he? Why had she let her family whisk her away as if she had no brain to think for herself? And why had her father practically hissed when the Schofield name was mentioned?

  “Remind me again,” Holly muttered to her brother. “Why can’t we breathe the same air as the Schofields?”

  “They’re our main competitors,” Kirk said. “Especially in the past few years. They own a chain of budget motels, but they’re appear to be expanding into high end boutique hotels, exactly where we operate. Martin Schofield is as ruthless as they come, and Eric’s just as bad. They undercut their competitors by cutting costs to the bone. Brutally effective, but not sustainable in the long run.”

  “And Dane Schofield?” Her tongue tripped over the name.

  They took up position next to an enormous vase filled with hydrangeas. She still couldn’t see him. Maybe that was a good thing; she hadn’t stopped tingling from top to toe, shivering with…excitement. No man had ever affected her like this; she didn’t know if she liked it or not.

  “I’ve never met him before,” Kirk said. “Though I know Martin Schofield has two sons, so maybe he’s the prodigal son returning to the fold now that his father’s ill.”

  “His father is ill?”

  Her brother nodded. “Don’t know the details, but his son Eric has stepped in for a lot of the day-to-day business.”

  “So maybe Dane doesn’t have anything to do with their hotel business,” Holly said.

  “He’s still a Schofield,” her father snapped. His face had turned gray, and his usually immaculate hair was slightly mussed.

  “Dad, what’s wrong?” Her father was normally so reserved and remote. The only thing that worked him up was art. But now he was shaking, and he looked like he wanted to punch someone.

  “The Schofields are snakes. Just remember that, Holly.” His eyes narrowed on her. “Why were you talking to him anyway? Do you know the man?”

  “No, of course not!” The lie sprang to her lips before she could think it through. “I—I didn’t know who he was until he introduced himself.”

  “You mean he tried to chat you up? At a business meeting?”

  A flush crawled up Holly’s neck. No way could she ever tell her father exactly how she’d met Arlen, AKA Dane. Her brother might be more understanding, but he’d still be very unimpressed. Right this moment, all she could do was deny everything.

  “It wasn’t like that,” she muttered.

  Before her father could speak again, the Gilberts moved to the center of the room, and Humbert tapped a spoon against his champagne flute until the crowd fell silent.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for coming today. Lizzie and I are so pleased to see you all. It’s very gratifying to know there are this many people eager to take the Halifax Hotel under their wing and give it the attention it deserves. The Halifax has been in our family for many years, and it holds a special place in our hearts. Sadly, we haven’t done it justice,
so now we’ve made the difficult decision that it must be handed over to a younger generation, one that will cherish it as it deserves.”

  Standing beside him, Lizzie nodded and wiped a tear away.

  “The Halifax is no ordinary hotel,” Humbert continued. “And this bidding process will not be ordinary either. We are not simply looking for the highest bid. We’re looking for more from our successful bidders. And to that end, Lizzie and I have devised what we call the Gilbert Challenge.”

  A buzz of murmurs broke out before Lizzie called for attention.

  “The challenge will be conducted over two weeks, after which Humbert and I will take a week to decide on the winner. Naturally, we expect the successful bidder to offer us a fair price for the Halifax, so don’t go thinking you’ll get a bargain if you win.” She laughed and wagged a finger at the crowd. “The challenge will consist of two rounds. After the first round, Humbert and I will decide who will progress to the second and final round. Each company who wishes to participate in the challenge must nominate one contestant. He or she must be willing to spend the next two weeks, starting on Monday, solely on the challenge.” Smiling, Lizzie waved her arms. “Well, isn’t this much more exciting than your normal bidding process?”

  A flash went off, and Holly saw a man with a camera in front of Lizzie and Humbert.

  “Oh, and be prepared for some media attention.” Lizzie gestured to the man with the camera. “This is Pete Martell from The Bay Chronicle. He’ll be reporting on the Gilbert Challenge.”

  Ernest conversation broke out as people huddled together to discuss the announcement. Holly craned her neck, surreptitiously searching for Dane, but there was no sign of him. Maybe he had already left. Her heart dipped more than she expected. He wouldn’t do that, would he? But, then again, she had run out on him the last time…

  “Trust the Gilberts to come up with their own nutty way of doing business,” Ralph said with a sigh. He tilted his head at his son. “So, you’re up for it, right?”