The Secret Heiress

by Judith Gould

  Bianca felt that familiar frisson of excitement that these words caused, but before she could respond, a voice interrupted them.

  “Bianca. How are you?” Adrian asked.

  “Oh, hi,” she said. “I saw you at a distance, but never got close enough to say hello.”

  Adrian’s gaze shifted from her to Frans and back again. “I take it this is your date?”

  Bianca nodded. “Adrian, I’d like you to meet Frans. Frans, Adrian Single. He’s one of my bosses at PPHL.”

  Adrian and Frans shook hands. “I hope you’re having a good time, Frans,” he said.

  “Oh, yes,” Frans replied, casting Bianca an adoring glance. “I always have a good time with her.”

  “I see,” Adrian said with a smile.

  “Can you keep a secret?” Bianca asked him.

  “You know I can,” Adrian replied.

  “Frans and I are engaged,” she said.

  “That’s wonderful news, sweetheart,” he said. He kissed her cheek, then clapped Frans on the back. “You’re a lucky man.”

  “I know,” Frans said, all smiles.

  “I’m so happy for you both,” Adrian said.

  “I haven’t told my father yet,” Bianca said, “so please don’t say anything, Adrian.”

  “You know I wouldn’t do that. I’m sworn to secrecy, so I won’t tell a soul. But I’ll tell you what.”

  “What?” she asked.

  He chuckled. “The way you two are acting, everybody’s going to know, so you’d better tell him soon.”

  “Is it that obvious?” she said with a laugh.

  Adrian nodded. “You can hardly keep your hands off each other.”

  Frans and Bianca laughed. “It’s true,” Frans said. “We’re hopelessly in love.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Adrian said. He took a sip of his drink. “I’d better mingle, so I’ll see you later.”

  Bianca hadn’t planned on springing her news to her father tonight, but she felt emboldened by Adrian’s reaction. He’d been genuinely pleased, she thought, and hadn’t acted surprised at their difference in age. It hadn’t seemed to matter at all.

  “Why don’t we go see my father?” Bianca said, turning to Frans. “I want to introduce you.”

  “Okay,” Frans replied.

  Bianca led the way through the crowd, twisting this way and that to where she’d last seen her father talking with Sugar. When they finally reached him, Angelo was sitting at a table, nursing a drink. At the sight of his daughter, he rose to his feet.

  “Bianca, cara,” he said, kissing each of her cheeks. “I wondered where you were.”

  “Dad,” she said, “I want you to meet someone.” She made the introductions and noticed the assessment her father’s eagle eyes made of Frans. He was appalled by the young man’s lack of a shirt, his sweat-drenched chest, low-rise pants, tribal tattoos, and long hair. She was thankful that Frans had a firm handshake, despite his casual, devil-may-care posture.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Frans said enthusiastically.

  “A pleasure to meet you, too,” Angelo Coveri replied tightly.

  “Frans, do you mind if I have a few words alone with my father?” Bianca asked.

  “No, of course not,” he said, grinning. “I’ll take a stroll. See you at the bar inside?”

  “Great,” Bianca said.

  When Frans was out of earshot, Angelo Coveri tapped the table with a demanding finger. “Who is he? Some of the Eurotrash Niki hangs around with?”

  “No, no,” Bianca said. Oh, God, she thought. This is not going to be easy. “Frans is one of the top models in New York. He’s in a campaign the PPHL fashion division’s launching.”

  “The same thing if you ask me,” Angelo Coveri said. “Where’s he from?”

  “Germany.”

  “Eurotrash, just like I thought.”

  “Dad!” she exclaimed. “You don’t even know him.”

  “I know enough already,” he said harshly. “He’s a model, for God’s sake. No job for a man.” He looked at her with hooded eyes. “And don’t think I didn’t see the way you were throwing yourself all over him.”

  “Father,” Bianca said, stomping a stiletto heel on the stone terrace. “Will you give me a chance to say what I wanted to say?”

  “Fire away,” he said.

  “Well . . . ,” Bianca began, looking down at her elegant Manolo Blahnik shoes as if they could inspire her. Now she wondered how she could possibly tell her father what their plans were. His initial reaction to Frans was so negative that she doubted that she could accomplish anything, much less convince her father that she was taking a wise course of action. I have to be honest with him, she thought. He knows me well enough to know when I’m holding back.

  Taking a deep breath, she gazed up into her father’s eyes. “I’m in love with Frans,” she said, “and we’re engaged.”

  Bianca watched as he struggled to restrain himself from shouting at her. His face flushed, and he gritted his teeth. After a few moments he said too quietly, “If you like the sex, fine. Screw your brains out. But marry somebody like that? He’s half your age, Bianca. It’s absurd that you’re even considering such a thing.”

  “Do I need to remind you that my mother was half your age when you married her?” Bianca retorted. “And she was still half your age when you got divorced.”

  “No,” he said. “You don’t have to remind me of a damn thing.” He paused and took a sip of his drink. “I just don’t want to see you make the same mistake. We’re the only real family we have left, Bianca, you and I, and I hate to see you do something that’s going to be a catastrophe.”

  Tears suddenly sprang into her eyes.

  Angelo Coveri stared at his daughter for a moment. “Wipe your tears away,” he said, “and go find your young German. We’ll talk about this later. This is neither the time nor the place.”

  “Okay,” she replied. She kissed his cheek and turned to go. “We’ll talk about this later.” She paused, then added, “But I’ve made up my mind.”

  He heaved a sigh. “So go. Find your horny Kraut.”

  When Niki saw Frans walking alone on the beach, she slipped off her shoes and danced down to the water’s edge, where he was idly kicking at the incoming waves. Hearing her approach, he turned and smiled.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hello,” she said, returning his smile. “What’s your name?”

  “Frans,” he replied, his attention back on the water.

  “I’m Niki,” she said.

  “I know,” he said with a laugh. “It’s your birthday, and you are Bianca’s boss.”

  “Yes,” Niki replied, “I am.” She slipped out of the diaphanous gown she was wearing and dropped it onto the sand. The gold fish scales that covered her nipples and crotch were intact, serving as the briefest of bikinis. “Why don’t we take a swim?” she asked. “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

  If he found her costume alluring, he didn’t let on. “Talk? About what?”

  Niki picked up an air mattress that someone had left on the beach and shoved it out into the water, then followed it, walking in up to her waist. “Come on,” she said. “We can swim out to look at the barge.” She pointed to the long barge that would be used for the fireworks display, anchored fifty feet or so offshore. It was decorated with ten-foot scallop shells, behind which the fireworks crew hid.

  “I don’t have a bathing suit,” Frans replied as an excuse. He swam in the nude all the time, but he didn’t relish the idea of swimming naked with Bianca’s boss.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Niki said. “Who needs a bathing suit? Besides, aren’t you wearing underpants?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then take off your trousers and swim in your underwear,” Niki said. “I think you’ll be glad you did.”

  “Why?” Frans asked.

  “Because of the proposition I have for you,” Niki said.

  Frans did
n’t like the sound of that, but he realized that she was Bianca’s boss, and he didn’t want to make her angry. Finally, he said, “Okay, but I should get back to Bianca soon.”

  “This won’t take long,” Niki assured him. “Here, get on the air mattress, and I’ll swim alongside.”

  Frans took off his trousers and left them on the beach, waded out to where she held the air mattress, then scooted up onto it and spread out lengthwise, staring up at the starlit sky.

  “Perfect,” Niki said, beginning to paddle with her feet. “You can relax while I tell you what I have in mind.”

  On the beach Adrian Single watched them from the sandy spot where he’d come and sat down with his drink. He had been taking a break from the party, but now he was intrigued with the scene being enacted before him. He could hear much of what Niki was saying and was certain that he knew what she was doing. Poor Bianca, he thought. She’s finally found someone she really loves, and Niki decides she wants him for herself.

  “Frans,” Niki said, “I think you could do something better than modeling.” After seeing him with Bianca, she had wasted no time in finding out who he was and what he did.

  “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  “It’s a dead-end career,” she replied. “No future after a certain age.”

  “I know that,” he said, “but I’ll get into something else.”

  “You could come to work for PPHL,” Niki said, paddling with her feet as she held on to the air mattress. “We’re always looking for men like you.”

  Frans grunted noncommittally.

  “Just think,” Niki enthused. “With salary and stock options, I could make you a millionaire within a year. Why, you’d never have to fly commercial again.”

  Frans laughed. “That’s hard to believe.”

  “Believe me,” Niki said, “I can make it possible.” She stopped paddling and gave him a penetrating look. “Plus,” she added, “you’d have me.”

  Her directness both startled him and put him off, but he laughed lightly again. How to respond to this egomaniac without insulting her? He had met plenty of beautiful, rich women like Niki who thought they could simply buy him. They thought everyone had a price. If Bianca weren’t involved, he would tell Niki how boring her proposal was.

  “I could even finance a major movie deal for you,” Niki gushed. “With your looks you could be a real film star.”

  “I don’t think I can act,” Frans replied.

  “Oh, that’s not important,” Niki assured him.

  Onshore, Adrian looked at his watch. It was still over an hour and a half until the fireworks were due to go off, but he made a snap decision. Unclipping the cell phone on his belt, he pressed in the number for the crew foreman on the barge. “Estrellas!” he said in a low but firm voice, giving the signal for the fireworks to begin.

  In less than a minute, roaring rockets zoomed into the sky and burst into brilliant displays of multicolored light. The light began to fill the night sky, and the crowd gathered at Paradise Rock began to applaud with delight.

  “Goddamn it!” Nikoletta screeched as the spent remainders of the incendiaries began to shower down on both her and Frans. “The assholes are early!” She let go of the air mattress, all thoughts of Frans gone, and quickly began swimming back toward shore. Frans fought to contain his laughter while swatting at the hot cinders that continued to fall. He gave her a good head start before he slid off the air mattress and swam toward shore, deliberately aiming south of where Nikoletta was headed.

  The showdown with Nikoletta was soon in coming. Adrian had quickly joined Sugar, Bianca, Angelo, and Honor, who had clustered on the pool terrace to watch the fireworks together.

  “Where have you been?” Sugar asked him.

  “I was in the men’s room.”

  “What happened?” she asked. “The fireworks are early.”

  “I—” he started to answer, but Frans joined them, his hair dripping water, his white trousers wet from his soaked underwear beneath them.

  “What happened to you?” Bianca asked, taking his arm. “Did you get thrown in the pool or something?”

  “I took a quick swim,” Frans replied with a grin.

  “Maybe we should go to our room so you can dry off and change your clothes,” Bianca suggested.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Frans said.

  “We’ll see you in a bit,” Bianca said to her father.

  Angelo Coveri nodded.

  “She looks so happy,” Sugar said.

  “Here comes somebody who looks very unhappy,” Angelo remarked darkly, extending his drink in the direction from which Nikoletta came.

  Her hair, dripping diamonds and water, was plastered to her head. Nikoletta didn’t seem to mind, however. Her gaze was focused on Adrian, and although the expression on her face was neutral, there was fire in her eyes.

  She crossed her arms across her chest, pushing her golden fish-scale-encrusted nipples directly at him. “Why was the fireworks display early?” she snapped.

  “I’m so sorry, Niki,” he said. “I didn’t realize my watch was off. Way off, as it turns out.” He pretended to eye his watch as though it were to blame. “With all the traveling lately, somehow or other I reset it incorrectly when I went through all the different time zones.”

  “Niki, darling,” Honor filled in smoothly for her brother, “aren’t you going to say hello to your guests?”

  Niki glared at Honor momentarily, then relented. “Hi, Sugar,” she said. “Thanks so much for coming to the party.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, sweetheart,” Sugar said. “It’s everything a party should be.”

  “Yes,” Angelo said. “A lovely party.”

  “Thanks,” Niki said sourly.

  She turned back to Adrian. “I don’t want anything like this to ever happen again. An hour and a half off is a serious miscalculation, Adrian. What if this had been a business deal, huh? It might have made the difference between winning or losing.”

  “I realize that, Niki,” he said, trying not to smile, “but it was an honest mistake. It won’t happen again.”

  “Darling, he’s passed through a thousand time zones in the last few days,” Adrian’s sister said in his defense. “From one continent to another. Surely you can understand.”

  “He travels like that nearly all the time, Honor,” Niki said with an edge, “and if he can’t do something as simple as turn his watch back, how am I to rely on him to conduct business on my behalf?”

  “It won’t happen—” Adrian began, but he didn’t finish his sentence. At the edge of the terrace appeared a lean and muscular paparazzo with a beard. He was raising his camera with both hands. Yet Adrian spotted an unusual metal glint below the camera, of a round silver silencer. As Adrian watched, the camera lens shifted its aim, and he saw the paparazzo raise the revolver directly at Nikoletta.

  Adrian instinctively gave Nikoletta a hard shove with his elbow, knocking her down onto the terrace. Grabbing one of the flaming tiki torches placed all around the pool terrace, he lunged at the man. The paparazzo stumbled backward as Adrian thrust the tiki torch into his stomach. Adrian threw down the torch and leaped on him, trying to wrest the revolver from the paparazzo’s hand.

  Suddenly a shot rent the air, and Honor saw blood splatter the stone terrace. She let out a bone-chilling scream, and Angelo stepped forward. Yet it was Adrian who rose to his feet and stood over the would-be assassin, placing a foot on each of the man’s arms.

  “Take this,” he said, handing the gun to Angelo.

  The assailant spit up at Adrian’s face. “I missed this time,” he snarled, “but next time we won’t miss. What happens to me doesn’t matter.”

  “Has somebody called security?” Adrian asked, trembling a bit now that the harrowing near miss was over.

  “They’re coming now,” Angelo said.

  While some of the partygoers had run into the clubhouse to escape the gunfire, others had gravitated
to the scene. The PPHL security detail pushed their way through the crowd, shouting for them to move out of the way.

  “Niki okay?” Adrian asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said at his side, scowling at the man who had tried to murder her. “But I hope he won’t be.”

  “Don’t you worry,” Adrian said grimly. “We’ll take care of him.”

  Honor put an arm around Niki’s shoulder. “I think you need a drink,” Honor said, still trying to calm her own frazzled nerves. “And maybe a change of clothes.”

  “I’ll have a drink,” Niki replied, shrugging off her arm. She shouted to the gathered crowd, “Spread the word, everyone. The party will continue as before. We won’t let some two-bit holdup man or whatever he is ruin my party.”

  Shouts of glee greeted this announcement, and the music started again. The violence was over. Dancing, drinking, and loud conversation resumed as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  The PPHL security detail handcuffed the man and put leg-irons on him, then told him to get to his feet. Adrian began going through his pockets.

  “Here’s his passport,” he said, holding it to the nearest light. Kees Vanmeerendonk. Amsterdam, Netherlands, he read, though he wasn’t sure what to believe. It could well be a false passport. “Hang on to this,” he said to one of the security force.

  He continued searching the young man’s pockets and pulled out a wallet. There was little of interest in it, a small amount of money. Then Adrian extracted a piece of paper. It was torn off a larger sheet and dirtied from handling. On it was a telephone number, handwritten and surrounded by asterisks.

  Adrian took out his cell phone and dialed the number, but connections on the island were often atrocious and that was the case now. “Take him to the manager’s office,” he told the security detail, “around the back way, away from the guests. I want as few people to see him as possible.”

  Kees Vanmeerendonk was escorted away, held under the arms by two of the security operatives. Adrian turned to Honor. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said. “I want to take care of this.”