Snapping out of his reverie, Ram stubbed out his cigarillo in the malachite ashtray on his desk and took a sip of the Armagnac. He relished its warmth on his palate and the fiery trail it made to his stomach. Within moments, its warmth seemed to spread throughout his body, suffusing him with the glow of well-being.
I must celebrate, he told himself. Yes, I must mark this day in a very special way.
Setting down the crystal snifter of Armagnac, he picked up the alligator-bound Hermes address book on the desk and flipped to the Gs. There it was, her name and number. Denise Girard. He would call her and arrange to get together this evening. Perhaps they would have a light dinner first. Then he would take her to the tiny fourth-floor walk-up on the rue des Rosiers that he'd retained possession of all these years. The same apartment in the old Jewish quarter that the Levants had given him so many years ago.
He could bring her here or take her anywhere, for that matter. After all, she was beautiful, sophisticated, and well-mannered. But he preferred taking her here tonight. With the right drugs, he could get her to do almost anything, and for that, the little apartment was perfect. The neighbors, primarily gays who'd invaded and begun to gentrify the neighborhood, asked no questions, being the misfits they were. He picked up the telephone and dialed her number.
Although a magnet to women, he'd managed to stay unattached. No matter how beautiful or rich the various women in his life had been, he'd always ended their affairs quickly and with minimum fuss. He didn't want the unnecessary complications that inevitably arose from relationships with women, and had always found it more expedient to hire one when he felt like it.
Denise picked up at the other end of the line. 'Bonjour,' she said in a breathy voice.
'I want to see you tonight,' Ram said.
'Oh, it's you,' Denise replied. 'I ... I... of course. What time?'
He heard the initial hesitancy in her voice, and he smiled slightly at her obvious change of mind. Money always talks. 'Eight o'clock,' he said. 'We'll have a little dinner.'
'Where?' she asked. 'How shall I dress?'
'Nothing too fancy,' Ram replied. 'I'm in the mood for simple bistro fare.'
'Okay,' Denise said, disappointment in her voice.
'See you then.'
'Ciao.'
He replaced the receiver in its cradle, leaned back in his chair, and smiled with satisfaction. He would have a good time with the whore tonight, and although she wouldn't want to see him for a while, she would inevitably be drawn back by the money and the drugs. And once again she would let him do whatever he pleased. He felt a familiar hardening in his trousers and finished off the Armagnac, setting the empty snifter down with deliberation. Anything, he thought. Anything I want.
CHAPTER 4
Allegra sank back onto the plush banquette and, panting hard, untied the satin bows at her ankles and slipped out of her high-heeled shoes. Wiggling her toes and massaging her feet against the thick carpeting, she took a sip of the champagne in her glass. Ah, that's better, she thought, setting the glass back down. She glanced at the black Louboutins that lay on their sides at her feet, like fallen monuments. Beautiful as they were, they weren't made for dancing. At least not the relentless way Todd goes at it, she thought with amusement. She'd almost forgotten that he was an indefatigable dancer, and tonight he was absolutely a dancing fool, refusing to sit out a single number. Allegra finally had to take a break.
The DJ was spinning a spectacular dance mix, and they'd been on the dance floor for at least thirty or forty minutes. She wasn't sure because she'd lost all track of time, but her feet had started killing her. Dehydrated, she wanted nothing so much as a long, cold drink of water. She looked toward where she'd left Todd wildly gyrating with Candie Gundersen, but didn't see them.
Thank God she was out tonight, Allegra thought. The young blond beauty, a giantess of about six feet three inches in height, was a fixture on the downtown art and club scene whom they both knew slightly.
She took the last sip of her champagne, then put back on the uncomfortable shoes. Standing up, she took her beaded bag and started weaving through the crowd that stood between her and the bar. They were watching the action on the dance floor or gathered into little clumps engrossed in conversation. How they can hear one another I'll never know, she thought. She loved the music, but it was deafening. A space opened up, and turning sideways, she slipped through it. In the distance she could see the bar. As enormous as it was, it was jammed with people four and five deep.
Allegra didn't find the scene off-putting as she sometimes did. Tonight, on the contrary, she was enjoying being out among the trendy revelry and away from her workshop.
'Scusi,' an extremely tall young man said in a heavily accented voice as he bumped her side. His deep, resonant voice was raised so she could hear him over the music.
Allegra turned and looked up at him. He was very handsome, deeply tanned with longish dark hair combed straight back, dark eyes full of mischief, and a square jaw. 'It's okay,' she said with a smile, raising her voice as he had.
His high forehead creased in a frown. 'Don't I know you?' he asked. Then his lips spread in a smile, exposing gleaming white teeth. 'Yes, I'm sure I do. It was Positano last summer, wasn't it?'
Allegra shook her head. How many times had she heard this or a similar pickup line? 'No,' she replied good-naturedly. 'In fact, I've never set foot in Positano.'
'Saint Moritz, then,' he said, unwilling to end the game. 'Last winter. Yes. At the Corviglia Club.'
'I hate to disappoint you, but I haven't been there, either,' Allegra said. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to get some water.'
His handsome features collapsed into a mask of mock disappointment. 'No, no,' he said. 'You must allow me to get it for you.'
'That's really not necessary,' Allegra replied.
'I insist,' he said. 'Look.' He gestured to the crowded bar. 'I'm a regular here. They know me well, so I can save you time.' He looked at her with a theatrical plea.
Why not? she asked herself. She had to admit that he was extraordinarily good-looking, and his manners were impeccable. 'Okay,' Allegra said at last. 'Why not?'
'Come with me,' he said, gently placing a hand on her arm. 'I'm Carlo, by the way. Carlo d'Annunzio.'
'Allegra,' she said, following him into the crush of bar patrons.
He turned and smiled down at her. 'Ah. You're Italian, also?'
Allegra shook her head. 'No,' she said. 'I hate to disappoint you again, but my mother just happened to like the name.'
'I see,' he said. 'So you are Allegra. And that's it?'
She looked at him with puzzlement.
'No last name?' he said, his eyes twinkling. 'That's okay. I understand. After all, I could be a serial killer.'
'Sheridan,' she said obligingly.
'Stay right here on this spot, Allegra Sheridan,' he said, pointing a finger downward, 'and I'll have your water in a flash.' He turned and elbowed his way into the crowd, politely excusing himself as he went, one arm held high in the air, gesturing toward the nearest bartender.
Allegra turned and looked back toward the dance floor, but still saw no sign of Todd or Candie. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned back. Carlo, already.
'Mademoiselle,' he said, smiling as he handed her a tall glass of ice water. 'Or is it madame?'
'Mademoiselle,' she replied, 'and you really were fast. Thank you very much.'
'It's nothing,' Carlo replied with a shrug. 'I told you. They know me. Well, cheers.' He lifted a glass of pinkish liquid and waited for Allegra to follow suit. They touched glasses and took sips of their drinks.
'What is that you're having?' she asked.
'It's champagne,' he said, 'with a shot of Campari. Would you like a taste?'
Allegra shook her head. 'No, thanks,' she said. 'Water's perfect. I'm so dehydrated from dancing.'
'Of course,' he said, 'you would be. I'm sure every single man in this place has asked you.'
'Tha
t's nice of you to say, but actually, no one's had the chance,' she responded. 'I've been dancing with my friend since we got here.'
'And where is this friend of yours now?' he asked.
'Dancing with someone else,' Allegra said.
'You've been deserted?' His eyebrows went up, feigning surprise. 'I can't believe a man would desert a woman as beautiful as you in a club like this, where nearly every man is on the make.'
Allegra laughed. 'You're too much.'
'What do you mean?' he asked, pretending innocence.
'You know very well what I mean,' she replied. 'You—' There was a light tap on her shoulder, and she turned around expecting to see Todd. 'Sylvie!' she exclaimed.
Sylvie Javelle air-kissed her on both cheeks in the continental manner, then stood back. 'Don't believe a word that Carlo says because he is a terrible womanizer,' she said. Allegra noticed that she was wearing what appeared to be Chanel couture.
'Ah, Sylvie, cherie, how could you?' Carlo began, holding his arms out to her. She quieted him with kisses and returned his hug.
'You know I'm only making a little joke,' she said with a laugh. 'I'm so glad to see you both.'
'So you two know one another,' Allegra said.
Sylvie arched a thinly plucked brow. 'You might say that.'
'A little bit,' Carlo said, shrugging.
'Allegra, I've been trying to get you on the phone. Did you get my message?'
'No,' she said. 'But I haven't listened to the machine.'
'We've got to talk,' Sylvie said.
'What's up?'
'Hmmm, not now,' Sylvie said, looking from side to side as if expecting spies to be eavesdropping. 'Later. In private.'
'You don't have a drink,' Carlo said. 'What would you like, Sylvie? Or have you had plenty of medication?'
'Oh, Carlo, aren't you funny?' she said, looking at him mischievously. 'But you're a darling. I'll have a cosmopolitan.'
'I'll be back in a minute,' he said.
'Thank you, Carlo,' she said, watching him leave. She turned back to Allegra. 'Isn't he a hunk?'
'He's very good-looking,' Allegra agreed, 'and he knows it.'
'Oh, yes,' Sylvie said, nodding her head. 'You're right about that, but still. . . he's not unbearable about it.'
'Who is he?' Allegra asked.
'He's with an investment company downtown,' Sylvie said. 'From a very good family in Turin.'
'You know everybody,' Allegra said with a laugh.
'If I don't, you do,' Sylvie said. 'Where's Todd, or is he out of town?'
'He's dancing with Candie Gundersen,' Allegra said. 'Or at least he was the last time I saw him.'
'Aha, the giantess,' Sylvie said. 'How are things between you two?'
'Oh, God, Sylvie, who knows?' Allegra replied. 'What about you? Who're you with?'
'Ahhh, Jean-Pierre,' she said with a Gallic shrug of her shoulders, as if the subject bored her.
'So is it serious with you two?'
'God, no!' Sylvie exclaimed. 'It is impossible. Jean-Pierre can't be serious for five minutes. Not with anybody. He's probably screwing somebody in the loo right now.'
Allegra laughed, nearly choking on her water. 'How do you put up with it?' she asked.
'How could I bear him otherwise?' Sylvie retorted. She saw Carlo returning with her drink.
'Here you are,' Carlo said. 'A cosmopolitan.' He handed it to Sylvie.
'Merci, Carlo,' she said. 'You're a lifesaver.'
'And another glass of water for you, mademoiselle,' he said to Allegra.
'You didn't have to do that,' she said, 'but thanks.'
'My pleasure.' He turned to Sylvie. 'Is Jean-Pierre here?'
She nodded. 'Somewhere.'
'I think I'll have a quick look for him,' Carlo said, 'but don't worry, I'll be back soon.' He winked and headed off.
Sylvie and Allegra laughed. 'He's so crazy,' Sylvie said, 'but so amusing.' She took a sip of the cosmopolitan.
'So he and Jean-Pierre are friends, I take it?'
'Yes,' Sylvie nodded. 'They've known each other for years. They went to school together in Switzerland.'
'Oh,' Allegra replied. 'I must be practically the only person in New York City who didn't go to school in Switzerland.'
Sylvie flapped a hand breezily. 'Who cares about things like that, cherie? It's meaningless now.' She looked around them, then leaned in toward Allegra. 'Anyway, can you talk now? If so, let's go somewhere we don't have to yell to be heard.'
Allegra nodded. 'Sure, why not?' She was curious as to what Sylvie wanted to discuss. They had met several years ago when a mutual friend had introduced them. Sylvie had bought a piece of jewelry from her—the first of several choice pieces—and they had been friendly ever since. But they had never really been confidants, sharing secrets like best girlfriends.
'Good,' Sylvie said. 'Let's go upstairs, then.'
She led the way and Allegra followed until they reached the expansive
staircase. When they were seated in a darkly lit, uninhabited corner, Allegra was the first to speak. 'Okay,' she said, 'what's this all about?'
Sylvie leaned in close to her again. 'You swear you will not discuss this with anyone? Not Jason? Not even Todd?'
Allegra looked at her with surprise, but nodded. 'I promise,' she replied, putting her hand on her heart and laughing.
Sylvie did not return her laughter. 'This is very serious,' she said solemnly, 'and really must be kept secret, Allegra.' Her voice dropped to a whisper. 'It has to do with my boss, Hilton Whitehead.'
'Hilton . . . Whitehead,' Allegra said slowly, as if testing the name on her lips. Her curiosity was more aroused than ever. She knew, of course, that Sylvie worked for the somewhat elusive software billionaire, but she also knew that Sylvie never discussed him, his business, or his private life with anyone. Allegra remembered that he'd made her sign a ten-page confidentiality agreement before giving her the job.
Sylvie leaned in closer and put her hand to Allegra's ear. 'He has a proposition for you,' she whispered, 'and he wants to meet with you tomorrow morning.'
'A proposition?' Allegra said. 'For me?' She pointed her fingers at her chest. 'I don't even know the man, Sylvie.'
'Yes,' she said, 'but he knows all about you. He's asked me more than once about one of the brooches you made for me. You know, the one that looks like a dollop of caviar?'
'Yes,' Allegra nodded, remembering with fondness the brooch made of hundreds of little gray pearls. 'But what about it?'
'I told him that you know all about jewelry,' Sylvie said. 'How you are an actual gemologist and all that. Not just a designer.'
'So?'
'So, he wants to talk to you about something,' Sylvie said.
'But what?' Allegra asked, beginning to become exasperated with Sylvie's vague answers. 'If he wants a piece of jewelry designed and made, then why doesn't he simply come down to the atelier and place the order?'
'I'm not permitted to discuss that,' Sylvie said mysteriously. 'You must come to the office to discuss it with him.'
Allegra emitted a short, nervous laugh. 'But why? I just don't get it. Even rich people come to the atelier.'
Sylvie shook her head. 'No, no, cherie,' she whispered. 'He can't do that. It's far too confidential a matter for that. Come to the apartment tomorrow morning about eleven o'clock. He will explain everything then.'
Allegra looked at her, but she finally nodded. 'Okay,' she said. 'I'll be there, but I don't know why.'
Sylvie hugged her, then drew back and cried merrily, 'Merveilleux. I'll see you at eleven.' She opened her gem-studded minaudiere and took out a thick vellum business card. 'Here's the address,' she said.
Allegra took the card and slipped it inside her beaded bag. 'Okay.'
'Remember. Not a word of this to anyone,' Sylvie said. She air-kissed Allegra on both cheeks, then stood up. 'Now I will try to find Jean-Pierre. Are you coming downstairs to have some fun?'
'Yes,' Allegra replied, ge
tting to her feet. 'And I should probably hunt down Todd.' But she wondered if she could have fun until her curiosity was satisfied regarding the billionaire Hilton Whitehead.
'How about a nightcap, baby?' Todd asked, nuzzling the nape of her neck.
'Don't you think we've both already had too much?' Allegra asked with a helpless giggle. She finally managed to unlock the lobby door and pushed it open.
'Oh, come on,' he said. 'You know me better than that.' He followed her into the lobby and encircled her with his arms from behind, hugging her to him and kissing the back of her neck. 'The night is young, Ally.'
'It's almost three o'clock, Todd,' Allegra pointed out, 'and I've got an appointment on the Upper East Side at eleven o'clock in the morning.' But even as she said the words, she could hear the unmistakable sound of surrender in her voice.
'That's never stopped you,' he said, squeezing her tightly. 'Besides, eleven o'clock's a lifetime away.'
Allegra pushed the elevator button. 'Okay,' she said, turning to face him, 'but just one little drink.' She held up a finger.
He kissed her finger and looked into her eyes. 'I promise,' he said. 'Just one.'
Allegra was spread out on the couch in the living room, her head in Todd's lap. He'd lit the candles on the coffee table and put a soothing trance mix on the CD player. They were nursing the second of the straight Stolis on ice that he'd poured.
'Did you have a good time tonight?' he asked, running his fingers through her hair.
'Uh-huh,' she said. 'I had a good time. And I know you did. You and Candie. She's just like you. She can't stop dancing once she starts.'
'Jealous?' he asked.
'Of you and Candie? Ha! Why would I be jealous?'
'Well, you shouldn't be if you are,' he said. 'I saw you spending some time with the Italian Stallion.'
'Who?'
'Don't give me that,' he said. 'You know exactly who I mean. Carlo d'Annunzio. I saw you talking to him.'
'You did?'
'I sure did,' he said, 'and everybody knows what a cocksman he is.'
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