Girl Undercover 6 & 7: Emma's Secret & The Truth Page 4

  “Not really,” I replied, not sure why I felt that it was the better reply.

  “Good,” Janine said and did another set of leg presses.

  ***

  Ian insisted that we go to Bergdorf Goodman to shop for a dress and shoes for me, so that’s where we ended up at five o’clock later that day. I only had two hours before my appointment to get my hair blown out and in this time we had to not only find a dress and shoes for me, but also get my nails done. Needless to say, we were pressed for time and had to move quickly. A slender, elegant woman in her thirties came up to us as we entered the women’s department and asked if we’d like a personal shopper to help us find what we needed.

  “That’s alright,” Ian said. “I’m her personal shopper.” He jabbed a thumb in my direction.

  “I understand,” the woman said and I could tell that she was struggling not to wrinkle her nose. “Best of luck to you.”

  “Come on,” Ian said and took my hand before I could stop him, pulling me deeper into the huge luxury department store. He moved with so much confidence and ease from one designer display area to the next that he just had to have frequented stores like this one often.

  We finally stopped at the area where Donatella Versace showcased her clothes. While Ian flipped through a rack of incredible dresses, I discreetly took a peek at the sales tag on one of them and nearly choked when I saw how much it cost.

  $3,999.

  Clearing my throat, I let go of it. Well, for a man that could afford a suit that cost $75,000, four grand must be almost cheap, I reminded myself.

  “Try on these three,” Ian said behind me. I turned around to face him. He was holding three tiny dresses in his hands, two black ones and one red. “I think they’ll all look great on you. I’ll be outside the dressing room so you can show me how they fit.”

  “Thanks,” I said and took them from him, scanning our surroundings for a dressing room.

  “They’re right over there,” Ian said and indicated a sign in a corner.

  “Oh,” I said and hurried over there.

  It took me less than a minute to slip into the first black one—it was a tube dress that ended mid-thigh and left very little to the imagination. I twisted and turned inside the spacious cubicle to view myself from every angle. I couldn’t believe this little thing cost so much money. It looked pretty cheap if you asked me. Cheap as in trashy.

  “How’s it going?” Ian asked. Judging from how clearly I could hear him, he must be standing right outside the door. This dressing room had an actual door.

  I opened it to show him. He whistled and grinned.

  “Mmm, hot,” he said. “Though probably not right for the restaurant we’re going to. Try the other two.”

  I disappeared back inside and put on the red one, which was longer but equally as tight and with several cutouts that revealed lots of skin. I went back out to show Ian. He took me in while rubbing his chin for a long moment. Then he came up to me and ran a finger along the part of my waist that was bare. Goosebumps formed all over me and I took a step back.

  “Very sexy,” Ian whispered, “but not quite right either. Try the last one.”

  I scurried back inside my dressing room, annoyed with myself that I’d let on just how much Ian’s touch had affected me.

  I removed the red dress and replaced it with the last black one. When I looked at myself in the huge mirrors, I knew this was the one. It was just the right length, short enough to reveal lots of leg yet long enough not to ever be considered trashy. It was form-fitting but not so tight I could barely breathe and the décolletage revealed the right amount of breast.

  Knowing full well just how good I looked, I walked out with my chin held high.

  Ian’s chameleon eyes widened a touch as he saw me. “Now, that’s what I call a smashing dress. Take it off so I can pay for it.”

  After we had paid for it—that dress set Ian back six grand—we headed to the shoe department where Ian picked up two pairs of shoes for me, a pair of strappy ones and a pair of pumps. Neither he nor I could decide which ones fit better. Since he didn’t mind plunking down a thousand a piece for them, I didn’t object. Then we both had our nails done at the department store’s own salon. As mine were still drying, we jumped into a cab that took us to the hair stylist Ian had picked out where I also had my makeup done, per Ian’s insistence.

  At seven thirty, we were ready to head to Le Bernardin.

  Chapter 4

  “Are you nervous?” Ian whispered in my ear as we walked toward the restaurant’s entrance.

  “Of course not,” I muttered back, lying. I was more nervous than I cared to admit even to myself and I wasn’t sure why. So what if our little mission failed? I could live without knowing exactly what these politicians were discussing, couldn’t I? It was no big deal if Ian didn’t manage to get that tiny recording device onto the table. He had yet to tell me exactly how he would plant it there without anyone realizing what he was doing.

  Just focus on your part of the assignment, he kept telling me when I asked about it.

  We walked through the sleek revolving glass doors and into the restaurant. I could instantly tell that Ian was comfortable in the softly lit, elegant surroundings. More comfortable than I was, like he belonged in extremely expensive establishments such as this one. Not that I originated from the hood or anything, but I wasn’t exactly born with a silver spoon in my mouth, either. My parents were solid middleclass people, both of them still working.

  We stopped at the hostess stand and Ian told the girl with the high ponytail behind it that we were about to have a bite in the lounge.

  Continuing into the lounge with its shiny, wood paneled walls and odd glass decorations, we took a seat at the end of the long bar. The deeper inside the lounge we were, the harder it’d be for Janine or any other unwanted person to spot us were they to venture in here. A male bartender sailed up and took our drink orders.

  “So what do we do now?” I asked Ian as soon as the bartender disappeared. “How do we find out if they’re at their table?”

  “That’s easy,” Ian replied. “One of us can go check. Though I believe the better way would be to just ask the hostess if the Williams party has arrived. According to the email, that’s the name they made the reservation in, remember? Williams as in Senator John Williams of Illinois.”

  “Do you think she’d give us that information?”

  “Maybe not if we go together, but if I went up alone, I’m sure she’d give it to me.” Ian put a hand on my arm and gave me an annoyingly confident smile. “What do you think of that approach?”

  I swatted his hand off me and rolled my eyes. “Yeah, you could probably squeeze it out of her one way or another. I’ve seen you in action.”

  “Okay, let me just have a sip of my gin and tonic first. Then I’ll go.”

  The bartender returned with our drinks, placing a glass of white wine before me and the mixed drink before Ian. I gazed jealously at Ian’s glass, wishing I had ordered something stronger than wine. I felt like I needed it in order to go through with what I was about to do.

  Damn, what is wrong with me? I’m acting like I’m about to get executed.

  Disgusted with myself and the sudden streak of wimpiness that kept assaulting me, I grabbed my wine and had a large sip.

  “Are you okay?” Ian asked, brows raised. He brought his own drink to his lips and had a sip.

  I had another big sip of wine before putting the glass back down. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

  “You have a big scowl on your face. You can’t go in looking like that when you go up to their table.”

  I gave him a smirk. “Don’t you worry, bloke. I’ll take care of my part. Now go see if they’re even here.”

  Ian put his glass down. “I’ll be right back.”

  I watched him as he made his way up to the hostess stand, leaned onto it and served the girl a smile that would floor most women. She giggled and began squirming, playing with her ponytai
l as he kept talking; it was clear that she was enjoying herself. Her eyes went down to the stand and after some time they returned to Ian. She nodded and said something. He gave her another killer smile, a nod and then returned to me.

  When he sat down, his eyes went to my wine glass.

  “Want another one?” he asked.

  “Why do you…” After having lowered my gaze, I understood why he was asking; my wine glass was nearly empty. “Sure, why not? What did the girl say?”

  “That they arrived half an hour ago.” Ian waved over the bartender and indicated my glass. “We should get this party started shortly, so you need to chug that wine if you require the strength of alcohol to talk to these people.”

  I glared at him even though he was correct—the prospect of talking to these people made me so nervous I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to go through with it unless I got some more wine into my body. It was beyond pathetic. Luckily, the bartender was soon back with another glass for me. I had three big sips, then I forced myself to put it back down and get to my feet.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” I said. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “That’s my girl. And remember that you’re drop dead gorgeous. All you really need to do is go up and say hi, the rest will work itself out. They’ll all be busy staring at you the way everyone else is staring at you in this room.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” I knew I looked better than I’d ever looked before wearing this insanely expensive dress and the strappy heels, and that the hairstylist and makeup artist had done wonders with me. But there were quite a few good-looking women at this restaurant. We couldn’t count on all those people around the table staring at me because I was so incredibly smashing as Ian kept saying. I needed to actually keep them engaged with my conversation to make sure they didn’t see what he was up to.

  “Break a leg,” Ian whispered into my ear right before I took off into the dining room.

  I was somewhat familiar with the layout as I had checked it out on the Internet earlier today. Finding the table where Janine and her crew were seated should be a breeze.

  I spotted them almost as soon as I stepped into the elegant, softly lit space. They were thankfully seated in the middle of the room, which should make it easier for Ian to swing by and get the recording device onto the table. I noted that Damon Chatterly was there, seated next to Janine. She must be pleased he made it, I thought. In addition to the governor and Janine, I recognized several of the other people. All of them were prominent politicians in the country, senators, congressmen and one more governor. I also noted that I had seen all but one of them at Nikkei. More than a few times. If Ian finds out these guys are all members and I didn’t tell him, he won’t be happy, I thought, guilt streaming through me.

  Taking a deep breath, I strode over to the table. No need to postpone what had to be done.

  I stopped a few feet away from Janine under a light fixture to be sure she could see me clearly when I called her name. I cleared my throat.

  “Janine! Hello!”

  As expected, the senator turned her head in my direction. She smiled politely at the sight of me, but I could tell that she didn’t recognize me.

  “It’s me, Jamie, your trainer.”

  “Oh, Jamie!” The senator’s smile grew wider. “You look so different out of your uniform. I didn’t recognize you. Are you here on your date?”

  “Yes, we’re having a bite out in the lounge.” I jabbed my thumb in that direction.

  “Lucky fellow,” Governor Chatterly said. “You look lovely, Jamie.”

  Now everyone at the table was staring at me.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Well, I just wanted to come up and say hi. One of my friends works in the kitchen and it’s her birthday, so I wanted to surprise her with a gift.” I waved the small gift bag that I held in my hand. “How do you guys like the food here? It’s great, right?”

  “Yes, the amuse bouche are delicious,” a round man I recognized as the governor of Illinois seated near me said. “What does your friend do?”

  “Um, she’s the pastry chef,” I said.

  “Good friend to have,” the Illinois governor said, grinning.

  What I had feared happened then—even though Ian and I had practiced simple lines I could drop to keep the conversation going, I found myself suddenly tongue-tied. All the politicians were smiling and looking like they didn’t mind to keep talking, but only if I said something.

  To hell with it, I thought. I wasn’t just going to stand there until someone started to look uncomfortable, not to mention embarrass Janine by showing what a socially retarded trainer she had. She was a client I particularly wanted to keep, so I just nodded and wished everyone a nice dinner. Then I left.

  I continued deeper into the dining room and made a U-turn when I reached the wall. Walking as far away from Janine’s table as I could, I made my way back to the lounge and the bar area. I sat down on one of the barstools at the end of the bar and waited for Ian to return to tell me how badly I’d performed out there.

  It didn’t take more than thirty seconds for Ian to appear in the doorway that led into the lounge. He smiled when he spotted me. He came over and sat down on the stool beside me.

  I looked away, ashamed.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Why are you sorry? Everything went great.”

  I turned to face him. Was this his idea of a joke? The calm before the storm? But Ian didn’t look mad or disappointed, quite the contrary—he looked happy.

  “You’re telling me you actually got that thing onto the table?”

  “Yes, I did. You didn’t see me put the candle holder on the table? Well, I exchanged it for the one I picked up on an empty table.”

  I stared at him, shocked. “That was you? I thought it was a waiter.”

  “Nope. That was me. It went a lot easier than I’d expected it to go. At first I’d planned to bump into the back of one the chairs and pretend I dropped something. Then I’d squat and grab the table for support as I picked up the thing I dropped from the floor. That would allow me to attach the device right under the table. In a restaurant as high end as this one, I thought it would be the only way to get the device anywhere near this group. But it turns out that not only did you do an excellent job keeping the attention of all those politicians, but all other waiters and busboys were so busy that no one noticed me picking up the candle. So I just switched it real quick. I think everyone must have thought I was just another waiter.” He motioned toward his dark tuxedo, black tie and crisp, white shirt. “Wearing this, I look very much like them, don’t you think?”

  An image of a couple of the waiters in the spacious dining room floated through my mind as I gazed at Ian. He was right; wearing that suit, he did look very similar. Especially since his hair was currently slicked back, exactly like it had been when we ate at the Standard to match his obscenely expensive suit that day. No wonder I hadn’t noticed him switching out the candle, and that no one else had either for that matter.

  “Did you know how the waiters dress here or is that suit just a coincidence?” I nodded toward Ian’s suit.

  He smiled. “Of course it’s not a coincidence. I’ve had dinner here before, so I knew what they look like. Generally speaking, though, that’s the way waiters at most four-star restaurants dress.”

  “Huh. Good work, I guess. So what do we do now?”

  Ian’s hand disappeared into his pocket and when it came out, he held two of those skin-colored, earplug-shaped listening devices. I took one from him.

  “We’re going to listen in on their dinner conversation,” Ian said and stuck his own into his ear. He waved over the bartender and ordered another round of drinks for us. “After you hear what these guys are discussing, you’re going to need some more alcohol in your body. It’ll lessen the impact.”

  I nodded and put my elbows onto the bar counter, getting ready to listen to the conversation that supposedly would change my life.


  “Where?” a female voice in my ear said. It sounded very much like Janine Eastwood.

  “Over here,” a male voice responded.

  People talking and laughing mixed with scraping sounds like chairs moving and shoes clacking against hardwood floor followed. The kerfuffle lasted for several seconds. I looked at Ian, who was returning my gaze. There was a look of intense concentration on his face.

  The sound of people talking diminished, then completely disappeared. Finally, all we could hear was the occasional scraping chair and some rustling.

  Just as I was about to ask Ian what he thought was going on, a high-pitched woman spoke, “This table is so much better, Clay.”

  More scraping chairs and rustling sounds.

  “They should’ve put us here right away,” a scratchy male voice replied. “They better comp us desserts for the inconvenience.”

  “Dessert?” The woman with the high-pitched voice sounded outraged. “They should comp us our entire dinner! We come here every week and the maître ‘d knows this is our table. Clay, you tell them that we won’t bring any clients to this restaurant ever again if they dare charging us for dinner. Oh, hello, Lisbeth! It’s so good to see you!”

  “Jaqueline!” Scraping chairs.

  “This doesn’t sound right,” Ian hissed. A shadow had fallen over his features. “I’m going back there to see what’s going on. Wait here.”

  I nodded and watched him disappear out of the lounge and back into the adjacent dining room. A couple of men were speaking in my ear now, discussing a recent tennis game, joking about the players. One of them had such a barking laugh it made my head hurt.

  No, this definitely does not sound right, I thought.

  Ian appeared again, striding toward me, not looking happy. As he reached me, he stopped and motioned for me to remove the listening device.

  “They’ve moved tables,” he said.

  I got to my feet. “What? Why?”

  “If I knew, I’d tell you.”

  I thought of the conversation I had just heard via the earplug and realized I had a pretty good idea why they had switched tables. I told Ian what I’d just heard and he groaned.