Fool Me Forever (Confidence Game) Read online

  “What can I say? We like to fly under the radar.”

  This was a room full of seriously wealthy people and their representatives. “I need a proper answer.”

  He sighed and reached for both of her hands, and she let him take them. “We’re wealth redistributors, just like any charity, but a little more aggressive about it. We take from rich narcissists and assholes who don’t know how to respect their good fortune, and we give to people who’ve never had a chance and causes that are worthy. We make our own rules, and we don’t need the scrutiny that comes with being part of an industry. We wouldn’t be at an event like this unless there was a purpose.”

  And Lenny had spied their purpose across the room with Princess Ketija by his side.

  The Sherwoods fancied themselves as Robin Hoods for the new millennium. She’d never figured that for a literal truth, just good PR. To learn their whole business plan was to use crime to support charity obligations was a stunning reveal. It was strange to realize she owed him an apology for thinking only the worst.

  “I’m sor—”

  He stopped her words with a quick kiss. “Don’t. Nearly everything that comes out of my mouth from now on will be a lie.”

  Right. Where was her head? Morality wasn’t supposed to be this confusing. You weren’t meant to have a father who lied to you your whole life and a fake boyfriend who broke the law in a way you could almost forgive.

  Her crowd estimate was eight hundred, based on the number of circular tables set for ten. It was still a surprise when they were shown to one of the head tables. The one where Cookie Jar was taking his seat.

  “This came from under a Dixie cup,” Halsey said close to her ear, making her shiver, as he pulled out her chair and she sat. “I didn’t want you to think I was coasting on past achievements.”

  She didn’t have time to think anything because she had to remember her part, made significantly easier because she didn’t have to find a way to bump into Cookie Jar; he was across the table from her.

  “Miss Lenore,” he said. “We meet again. It is always lovely at events like this to see familiar faces.”

  “It’s good to see you again, too, Mr. Prime Minister,” she said. Her ability to fake warmth had been handed down from dear old Dad.

  There was no need to invent more conversation, because Ketija arrived and instead of taking her seat beside Cookie Jar, she lifted the white tablecloth.

  “Is something wrong, Princess?” Cookie Jar asked, half rising from his seat.

  “Only if Miss Lenore is wearing more interesting shoes than mine,” Ketija said, making a good showing of peering under the table in Lenny’s direction.

  Lenny did a little tap dance in her heels and Ketija laughed. “You don’t need to be worried that I will have you kidnapped for your footwear tonight.”

  “I’m not sure if I should be insulted,” Lenny said and then raised the tablecloth and peeked beneath it to see Ketija was wearing almost identical shoes.

  “I think it’s perhaps me who should be insulted,” Cookie Jar said. “You did not tell me your charity was such a high-profile friend of Ossovia.”

  She smiled. The line she’d rehearsed to his statement was about how ambitious D4D was. She had a better line now. “It’s Halsey’s charity that got us invited tonight.”

  Cookie Jar wagged his finger at her, jovially. “You did not tell me that, either.”

  Lenny chanced a look at Halsey; he was leaning across the empty seat to his other side to listen to what another guest was saying, but he was conscious of her, reaching a hand back to graze her thigh. He’d explained he would not directly approach Cookie Jar, that their scam would only work if Cookie Jar wanted what Halsey appeared to have. It was a treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen strategy.

  “Halsey’s family has a charitable foundation. I wasn’t aware until tonight how extensive their development funding is.” She shook her head. All this time she’d been so focused on the fact her date was a thief, she’d ignored that he did it for a good cause. “He could afford to boast a little, you know.”

  “A modest man,” said Ketija. “How refreshing.”

  Lenny’s breath snagged, because it was a bold thing to say, but Cookie Jar laughed. “You are quite right. To my discomfort, I admit modesty has never been one of my virtues. I am boastful and wicked,” he said wickedly with a virtual twinkle in his eye and the kind of confessional tone that was designed to be endearing. “I must make amends. I may need some instruction.” He turned to Ketija. “Perhaps the princess will indulge me and teach me better manners.”

  Ketija smiled, but it was less dignified than it was predatory. “Prime Minister, I would be delighted to instruct you in reforming your, what do they call it, humble bragging, but I am a mere engineer who is more interested in building a power grid so Ossovians have adequate supplies of electricity.”

  The prime minister’s laughter was loud and accompanied by rattling glassware as he shook the table. Lenny hated him all the more for how charismatic he was, but she admired Ketija’s attempts to keep his ego in check.

  When others joined the table, Lenny was surprised to find herself seated next to ninety-two-year-old, Ida Dalton. She wasn’t just any exquisitely dressed, dripping in jewels, ninety-two-year-old with the surname Dalton; Ida was a Dal-Industrial Dalton. A member of America’s wealthiest family.

  “I’m the black sheep,” Ida said, in introduction. One of her rings was a diamond skull and crossbones. Lenny had to look twice to be sure. “Every family has one. I never married, though not for lack of invitation from terrible, boring men. Couldn’t see the point of it. Or motherhood. More than enough people have children. I did missionary work that was considered beneath me for years, collected art, was a patron to hundreds of brilliant painters and writers, and had mad passionate affairs you could hardly imagine. Now I come to events like this and terrify people by being older than God, and looking it, and not caring what I say.”

  Lenny was a little intimidated and a lot fascinated by Ida. “I think my family is probably a whole flock of black sheep. I’m Lenore Bradshaw.”

  “Not that Bradshaw who ran a Ponzi scheme and went to jail?”

  “My father.”

  “Oh, my dear, goodness, you are more notorious than me.”

  “Being notorious doesn’t seem to have slowed you down.”

  “Not at all, though I had no disadvantages. It’s not the same for you. Half the fashionable part of the city will snub you, and the other half will make sure you’re locked out of their circles forever. No matter what you do, you will always be disreputable by association.” Lenny’s expression must’ve given away how she felt about that because Ida added, “I hope you don’t have delicate ears. Fuck them. You are not your father, any more than I was my family.”

  And now she was in love with Ida Dalton.

  “What are you doing here?” Ida nodded toward Cookie Jar. “You know he’s probably not all he’s cracked up to be. No man is.” Lenny stumbled over a response, and Ida pounced on it. “What do you know about him? I’ve heard rumors. Nothing of substance, but still.”

  She recovered, whispering, “I’ve heard rumors, too.” It was the most she could admit to.

  “What about your beau? He’s a looker. Is he a decent man?”

  Lenny glanced at Halsey, who was introducing himself to new arrivals at the table. “He’s a little disreputable,” she said from behind her hand.

  Ida laughed. “The handsome ones often are. I imagine your father has rather messed up your view of confident men. They can be a problem. Some of them were never taught their place in the world, their responsibilities. My only regret in being so old is I’m not yet old enough to see more women in charge of things. I refuse to die until we have a succession of women in the White House.”

  “That sounds like a good plan.”

  Ida patted her hand. “And what are we going to do about you?”

  “I’m going to prove you wrong about the disadvanta
ges of my family, and you’re going to tell me about your wild affairs, which I promise not to leak to the tabloids.”

  That pat on her hand became a light pinch. “I never kiss and tell. But I want all my love letters published after I’m gone to embarrass everyone. Shame you’re not in publishing. I’d consider giving them to you. It’s still my opinion your father has screwed things for you, my darling girl, and I am sorry for that. But what we’re going to do is have our photograph taken with the princess, I’m going to make sure it goes in all the right social pages, you will be able to say Ida Dalton is my friend and I consort with princesses, and some of those dreadful snobs with money will wonder about that. Fuck them,” she said, making a toast to the room in general with a raised glass. “I assume you have a charity, and I’ll make you a good donation, but my advice is to find a way to live your life from the outside looking in. You’ll be surprised how much easier that will make things when you stop caring what people think.”

  Ida took a breath, and Halsey used the opportunity to introduce himself. When the seat closest to him was claimed and he stood to pull it out, Ida leaned against Lenny’s arm and said, “Embrace the disreputable, my dear. That’s where you’ll find all the sexiest men, all the good rogues and scoundrels and heartbreakers. And from experience I can tell you, they are the only ones worth having in your bed.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Halsey went to work reluctantly the moment they took their seats at the table. It meant he couldn’t be as attentive to Lenny as he wanted. Attentive. Understatement. He wanted to attend to the raging flood of desire flashing between them. To give her all the answers she deserved with his lips pressed on hers and their tongues doing all the talking. He wanted to touch her skin and smell the paradise of her and make her forget what a bad idea hooking up with him was.

  He wanted to wipe from his consciousness the whole concept of being the next worst thing that happened to her.

  More than ever, he wanted to take her to bed and show her who he was under the surface of quality clothing and criminal activity. But that had to wait. He wanted to help her get her restitution and her revenge more. The victory would last longer, because Lenny would do exactly what she’d promised—flirt with him, use him, and then get the hell away from him. He loved her for the righteousness of that.

  First thing he did was subtly swap some name tags, so Baiba Jansons was on his right and Lenny was on his left.

  Cookie Jar had noted their presence, but all Halsey gave him was a nod of recognition while Lenny worked the conversation and her connection with Ketija. Sonny had to want what he was going to sell, and the only way to get that to happen was to make what he was selling unobtainable. That meant making himself unapproachable while he made everyone else at the table admire him.

  This was the kind of thing Cal and Zeke did as easily as breathing. He was already uncomfortable, and he’d barely begun, and he wasn’t a fan of the hyperaware state his body was in because of Lenny, all his senses working overtime. He took in Ketija’s sassy response to Cookie Jar’s boasting. He could hear Ida Dalton telling Lenny her life story. He knew the first course about to be delivered was lobster ravioli and that Tyrell and Eliza Washington two seats over were in oil and gas and funded cultural exchanges.

  It was a relief when Baiba arrived at the table, because he could focus on her and on Cookie Jar’s response to that. He pulled her chair out, and as she sat, he said quietly, “Object to every piece of advice I give you.”

  “Delighted to see you, Mr. Sherwood. I will take your advice on that,” she said for others to hear.

  As the starter arrived, he engaged Baiba and Tyrell Washington about cryptocurrency investments, talking about stunning gains, and the way blockchain and bitcoin would change the world. He made it sound like it was a gold rush for those well enough connected. This was the trap he was setting for Cookie Jar.

  “Is it really safe?” Washington asked. “I’ve heard it referred to as the mother of all bubbles. I’ve watched the dramatic gains and the equally dramatic falls. It’s exceedingly volatile, to say the least.”

  “You need to choose your cryptocurrency carefully. Mine is pretty much fire rated,” Halsey said.

  “It is simply not suitable for a young nation,” said Baiba. “And frankly, no one knows how safe the blockchain system is. I believe you’re pumping and dumping, as you high-flying finance types do, Mr. Sherwood.”

  Halsey disagreed. Reeled off a bunch of stats. Baiba scoffed. Tyrell Washington tried to keep up, and Cookie Jar waved away a distraction to eavesdrop. So far so good.

  As they paused to eat, Baiba muttered, “I am enjoying being objectionable, but I don’t understand how that helps.”

  “Isn’t it true that in politics the greatest hostilities are reserved for those on your own side?”

  She laughed and then spoke to her plate. “It is indeed, and I see that you are positioning yourself as not on my side so that my enemy might see you as a friend.”

  Halsey dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “Do you think it’s working?”

  “More wine please,” Baiba said to a waiter, and Halsey had his answer.

  He turned to Lenny. “Has Ida totally warned you off me?”

  Lenny smiled around a forkful of food. After she swallowed she said, “Ida is a role model.”

  He raised a brow at her. “Not looking good for me, then.”

  “Oh, I think Excel Boy is acquitting himself nicely.” She patted his shoulder like he’d seen Ida pat her hand. It was a there-there gesture, but since her gaze was mischief incarnate, he was well and truly encouraged. Right now, there wasn’t time to do more than play at boyfriend.

  “I’m going to stretch my legs a moment.” The plan was to absent himself from the table to increase his scarcity and hopefully his value, like DeBeers and its stockpile of diamonds. He leaned in to Lenny and spoke quietly. “Then I’m going to go say hi to Ketija and turn that into a conversation with Cookie Jar. I need you to interrupt me when I give you a cue.”

  Her eyes went wide. “What kind of a cue?”

  “I’ll rub my forehead as if I have a headache. Come and interrupt and find a way to drag me off.”

  She nodded, and he moved to stand. “Want me to come with you? You’ve hardly eaten a thing,” she said.

  Nerves. “I’ll be starving later.” He stood, and she followed him.

  “Wait.” She put her hand to his face and whispered, “You can do this.” Then she kissed his lips.

  The temptation to wrap her close, take the kiss from reassurance to reclamation, was enormous. It was a wrench to pull away, and it meant something that she watched him leave.

  Goddamn, she was probably worried he’d short-circuit. He hoped the smile he shot back at her had swagger.

  He found his way out of the ballroom, stood on a balcony overlooking the city with the smokers, and worked at settling his thoughts. Then he went back to the table to find dessert waiting. He put his hand on Lenny’s shoulder briefly for the comfort of the contact before moving across to Ketija.

  His heart was beating loudly in his ears, and though they weren’t, it felt like his hands were shaking. He engaged Ketija, asked how long she was staying in New York, and listened to her answer while her date ate his praline bread pudding somewhat aggressively. He might’ve played being standoffish too hard. Cookie Jar wouldn’t look around, and if Halsey had to start a conversation with him, he’d already lost some of his mystique.

  Lenny rescued him by appearing at his side. “I’m going to steal you,” she said to Ketija, gesturing across the table to Ida. “We thought we’d have a glamour shot together.” She made eye contact with Cookie Jar. “You gentlemen will have to play nicely while we’re away.”

  Damn, she was marvelous.

  She moved off with the princess, and Cookie Jar said, “Baiba is a fiscal conservative. She does not have the final decision. I heard your argument about cryptocurrency. I am interested in what you were saying. I believ
e it is fitting for a young nation like Ossovia to be at the forefront of new ideas. Please sit.”

  When they were alone and there were no more interruptions, Halsey was going to thank PowerPoint Girl with all the calculation he had. He would chart a course to her pleasure, graph her reactions, and make a 3D model from her responses. He’d do it again and again until she was sated and saved and mathematically exhausted from the way he wanted to love her.

  For now, he sat beside the despotic prime minister of Ossovia and got on with the business of conning him.

  Twenty minutes later, Lenny and Ida returned to the table, and Halsey had infuriated Cookie Jar by refusing to sign his country up to his special investment round, on the basis of not wanting to be responsible for any potential losses. “It would be irresponsible of me. You’re not an ordinary investor who can afford to lose big.”

  It was a slight, and he meant it that way.

  “I have sufficient funds available,” Cookie Jar snapped.

  “Private funds?”

  “Family wealth.” That hadn’t existed a mere five years ago and had been stolen from sources like D4D. It was likely Cookie Jar had dipped his thieving fingers into half the charities in the room tonight.

  Halsey shook his head. “No. I run an exclusive fund. American investors only. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but you don’t fit my investor profile.” Now that was more than a slight and slightly less than an outright insult, and it had the desired effect. Cookie Jar’s expression narrowed to thunderous, and he slapped his napkin on the table. Just as he was about to stand to stalk off, Halsey said, “I understand you’re building a palace.”

  It was time for the bait and switch.

  “It is a house for the people. A gift to Ossovia. A tourism destination,” Cookie Jar said.

  It was a private fortress with a moat from what Sherwoods’ surveillance had indicated.

  “I wonder if you might be interested in acquiring some art? I only ask because I’m aware you are a lover of the rare and valuable. It’s a passion we share.”