The Royal Marriage Arrangement. Rebecca Winters
a deep breath, she said, “I’d still like another opinion. Who’s the manager of the House of Savoy?”
“Mr. Bernard Hudson. I’m afraid he’s occupied with the showing of the Ligurian diamond.”
“Will you tell him these are Kathryn Carlisle’s jewels? When he learns of this situation, I know he’ll want to talk to me.” By now Alex was desperate enough to use her mother’s name for leverage.
“You don’t understand. He won’t be available until tomorrow. I’ll ask my secretary to make you an appointment with him.”
“Surely he can spare five minutes? I’ll wait.”
“Impossible. Now I’m very sorry, Ms. Grigory, but I’m afraid you’ll have to leave my office because I have other clients to see.” He shut the case, leaving her holding the bracelet.
Her body tautened. “Look, Mr. Defore…I flew all the way from Los Angeles for this appointment. My return flight is booked for tonight.” Her hand tightened around the bracelet, which according to him was nothing more than paste. “By tomorrow I’ll be back on the West Coast. I have to talk to him!”
She fought not to lose her temper in front of this composed jeweler, who was probably paid an indecent sum of money not to lose his.
“At the risk of repeating myself, Ms. Grigory, there’s nothing more I can do for you at present.”
“Your manager has to eat lunch sometime today. Since he’s on the premises, I can’t believe he wouldn’t take out a moment to see me.”
“I’m sorry.” The jeweler was implacable.
“What kind of a man are you?” she cried out in torment. “You can at least call him on the phone. Tell him who I am. Inform him this is a matter of life and death!” Without hesitation she grabbed the phone on his desk and held the receiver in front of him.
Maybe it was the fact that her five-foot-nine height gave her the advantage over him, or possibly it was the narrowing of her eyelids with their slightly tilted shape. Whatever the explanation, he finally took the receiver from her, but then hung it up.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw his hand move to press a button on his console. He was probably summoning security. So be it. Alex had come to New York on a mission.
Alex’s mother had once accused her of being incredibly stubborn like her father. She’d been born Alexandra Carlisle Grigory. The one picture she had of her father showed him to be a tall man who’d died when Alex was just nine months old. Like her mother’s death, the police still hadn’t determined if his was accidental or staged to look like one.
The few people who knew she was Kathryn Carlisle’s only offspring remarked that she must have inherited her father’s genes. Michelle had once told her, “Your father gave you great bones, and your eyes are exactly the same gray as Greta Garbo’s—you could be her double!” Nevertheless, Alex and her mother had been as different as apples and bananas.
Kathryn had been of medium height, and curvy. On or off the set, the platinum-blond bombshell had been the ultimate drama queen.
Alex on the other hand had unruly dark blond hair with nothing remarkable about her looks, even though Manny, like Michelle, had also insisted there was a similarity between her and Garbo. Alex had laughed off both their comments. They might think she looked like a film star, but Alex preferred to work behind the scenes where she transformed other people who acted in front of the camera.
Selfishly neglected by her mother and tragically deprived of the father she never knew, Alex had learned to function on her own from an early age. She had no extended family, but did have a few close friends that she could rely on. However, no one understood the extent of her grief, or her shame….
The pitiful legacy from both her parents had left a burning stain on Alex’s soul. Now the questions surrounding her mother’s death had left new scars on Alex, whose conception, according to her mother, had been a mistake from the beginning.
Kathryn Carlisle had been a film-star idol. She had been like a brilliant comet who had swept in and out of her daughter’s existence once every millennium for only brief moments without an atom of motherly love. Alex had been raised by a trail of nannies from the age of three weeks old, and there’d been no anchor in her life except for Betty, the nanny who had taken a liking to her and who had introduced her to Michelle, head of the makeup department at one of the film studios.
When Alex had been set adrift physically and financially by her mother when she turned eighteen, Betty had been instrumental in getting her her first job in the makeup department. Alex had started off just helping out at first, but then over the years she had continued to work there while she attended college and after.
Michelle had said she was a fast learner with a natural talent. In time she paid a salary that allowed Alex to get a modest apartment and take care of herself. After her apprenticeship, Michelle had asked Alex to stay on. Lately she had hinted that she planned to give Alex more responsibility and a raise.
Alex was grateful, of course, and she’d never want to hurt Michelle’s feelings, but she’d always had a dream of doing something else. Tragically it seemed out of reach now that she was saddled with her mother’s debts and needed to find a fast way to pay for them.
Surely Mr. Defore had made a mistake, or the bank hadn’t realized there were two jewel cases in the vault. One way or another Alex would straighten things out. It would be too excruciatingly painful to go home without the money.
She simply couldn’t do it.
* * *
While the thirty-four-year-old crown prince of Castelmare sat in the security room of the House of Savoy chatting quietly with Carlo, one of his bodyguards, other local security guards manned the monitors of the twenty-four-hour surveillance cameras. They’d been strategically placed around the store to watch for anything out of the ordinary.
This stop in New York represented the last leg of a long trip that had taken Lucca around the world on business for his country. Unfortunately, he had no more excuses to stay away from Castelmare. The dreaded reunion with his parents was coming and inevitable. When he returned home this time, there’d be no escape from certain matters that would change his life forever.
Suddenly his attention was caught by the American woman he could see in the monitor. She was obviously upset, and he found himself listening intently. It seemed there was a situation developing in Defore’s office.
Lucca’s ears picked up the word Grigory, a name associated with the old Russian aristocracy. Curious, he turned to one of the computers and logged into several Web sites including the store’s archives.
When he found what he wanted to know, he moved closer to the monitor with its black-and-white screen. That’s when he heard another exchange that gave him pause. The woman battling with the head jeweler was Kathryn Carlisle’s daughter?
He was stunned because he didn’t know the Hollywood film idol even had children—he could see no physical resemblance.
Like all hot-blooded Italian males, Lucca appreciated a beautiful woman. He’d seen one of the star’s films several years ago during a flight to Asia. The tempestuous actress, whose life had come to a tragic end like all too many American A-list celebrities, did have exceptional looks with her come-hither blue eyes and champagne-blond hair. Yet it appeared the only thing she’d passed on to her offspring was her legendary, impossible temperament. Like mother, like daughter.
Defore didn’t make mistakes. For that exact reason Lucca had appointed him to be head jeweler three years ago. Naturally he couldn’t help but be fascinated by the woman’s refusal to take Defore at his word. Evidently she was as spoiled as her mother and even more naive.
How could her daughter not have known the troubled star with her uncontrollable hunger for money would have run through her own finances a long time ago and had hocked her jewels as a last resort?
When