French Kissing

by Nancy Warren

  “Stop!” Holden shouted, and started sprinting.

  “Arrêt!” Kimi echoed. Not that she thought the woman hadn’t stopped because she didn’t understand the English word. With one scared glance at them the woman raced away.

  Holden took off like a top sprinter.

  She followed as best she could, hobbled by the damned shoes.

  Kimi heard the throbbing roar as the engine of a van started up, and ran faster, so fast she was in danger of toppling onto her face.

  But years of experience in high heels came to her aid and she managed to stay upright while running as fast as she could.

  She rounded the corner to the exit—suspiciously empty of security—where both the dresser and Holden had disappeared seconds ahead of her.

  The woman looked around. Her face was pale and perspiring, but her sturdy leather flats and panic were helping her move faster than Kimi would have believed possible. The van was backing toward her down the alley, the back doors already open. It was one of Simone’s own vans, so would never have caused a raised eyebrow.

  Holden was gaining on the woman, but there was no way he could make it before she and the large bag clasped to her chest got to the van.

  “Throw the bag,” a voice yelled from the driver’s open window.

  Holden must have figured out the meaning of the words, for he tossed down his camera bag and tackled the dresser as she was about to throw the precious bag into the back of the open van. With a cry of surprise and shock, she fell to the pavement. The van screeched to a halt.

  Kimi ran forward. The bag had rolled along the dirty sidewalk, coming to rest against a lamppost displaying a poster about couture week.

  Before the van’s driver door had even opened, Kimi picked up the bag and turned to run it back.

  There was confusion and shouting behind her. She paused, bag in hand, knowing that if Holden was in trouble she’d have to stay. Simone might not get her moment of supreme glory, but she would get the dress back.

  But she saw that Holden’s buddies had made it in time. Two guys with badges and guns shouted to the driver of the van and the last thing she saw was the van driver raising his hands in the air.

  Holden rose off the street and hauled the woman up with him. “Go!” he shouted in her direction. Kimi turned and kept running.

  She did a reverse sprint and by the time she got back to Simone’s side, she couldn’t even speak. She tossed the dress over to Simone, who hadn’t moved.

  Simone looked at the bag and then at her.

  “Go,” Kimi panted. “Dress her yourself.”

  The woman’s sharp face lit up as she opened the bag. And suddenly the old Simone was back. Barking orders, removing the dress with tenderness.

  “It’s creased.”

  “No time to fix it.”

  The still-naked but once more perfectly made-up Arianne rushed forward, and in less than a minute looked the most radiant, most expensively dressed bride that Kimi had ever seen.

  “You’re a queen,” Simone barked at the model. “The greatest actress in the world. Now go.”

  Arianne seemed to grow even taller and with a nod, stepped forward to the runway.

  Kimi peeked out from behind the curtain, still trying to catch her breath, a vicious stitch still stabbing at her side. There had obviously been a bit of a long pause and she could see the model doing a final pose in the penultimate gown in Simone’s collection. It was lovely, of course, a sheath of silvery-white satin, sleek as a blade, with a tiny bounce of a frivolous train at the bottom.

  She gazed over the audience, sitting polite but anxious, waiting for the finale, for the gown that had been written about, speculated on, imagined but never yet seen. She noticed her father and Claudia, seated three back from the runway. With a sick stab of shock she saw Vladimir flanking her sister; the two were sharing a glance, as if to say, I wonder if we’ll get something this great for our wedding.

  She couldn’t believe he was even here, and her skin crawled at the idea of Claudia and that psycho together. She grew even colder when she realized that the only way he could be sitting there acting lovey-dovey was if he knew that she and Holden would never reappear to tell their story.

  Her eyes continued to scan the audience from her position behind the curtain and, inevitably, she spotted Brewster. The bald faced arrogance of the man astonished her. She wondered who the two had sent to the warehouse to do the dirty work of getting rid of her and Holden, for it was obvious that he hadn’t any more idea of retiring from fashion than Vladimir had of not marrying into one of the most prestigious families in Italy. Brewster wouldn’t get his hands dirty, of course.

  She imagined she’d even rate a lovely farewell piece from him in his column. Had her body ever been found.

  As the expectant hush built—for the grand finale—she watched Brewster. He looked so smug. The bastard had even dressed to match the wedding dress, she realized, wearing a long coat in black, with silver and diamond trim. In his case, she doubted the diamonds were real—any more than he was. His ferret eyes almost gleamed with excitement. He’d orchestrated stealing the dress and now he was on hand to report on the devastation with his trademark cruel wit.

  Except that Brewster Peacock was about to get the shock of his life.

  20

  SHE WATCHED Peacock who was all but licking his chops. The music changed, and all eyes went to the runway and out floated Arianne. She stopped and posed like a queen.

  There were gasps all through the opera house. Kimi didn’t think Brewster gasped. She thought perhaps he squeaked like the panicked rat he was.

  Arianne continued to parade in a wedding dress that had even this jaded audience awestruck. Kimi had seen a lot of couture in her time, but never anything to rival this gown. Only Simone would use flawless diamonds where other designers might use bugle beads. The bodice flashed and flamed with cool fire, like passion, while the silk and feathers of the skirt and train denoted softness, a new start perhaps.

  She caught a glimpse of Nicole Pietra, and the world’s most famous actress looked absolutely stunned. Then she burst into tears and started clapping like crazy, jumping to her feet as she did so.

  Her husband-to-be was soon on his feet clapping as enthusiastically. She thought of the old saw about it being bad luck for the groom to see the dress before the wedding, and thought how much worse luck it would have been if he hadn’t seen it, as had almost happened.

  As wave after wave of couture enthusiasts rose and added to the deafening applause, she noticed Brewster quietly—or as quietly as a man in that coat could—sidle to the nearest exit. But he didn’t get far. Two men silently moved to flank him, a third bringing up the rear. They had law enforcement written all over them. Short hair, bland suits encasing hard bodies, tough faces.

  There was barely a ripple as Brewster was led away, since all attention was focused on Simone’s grand finale.

  Never one to let a moment of high drama drag out, Simone already had the rest of the models wearing wedding gowns return, where they formed a group at the end of the runway, Simone was in the center like a small black bird among a flock of swans.

  Kimi’s attention reverted to her family. She wondered how Holden and his buddies planned to get Vladimir out of there without making a production of it. She didn’t want Claudia or her father drawn into the embarrassment of the arrest. There was only one way to protect her family. She had to separate her father and sister from Claudia’s fiancé.

  And, she realized as she saw Vladimir’s tough, impassive face glance to where Brewster had been, she had to do it now.

  She tried to figure out how to get a message to her father or sister—cell phones were forbidden at Simone’s shows and would be confiscated. Security was tighter here than at the U.N.

  Vladimir didn’t know yet that she and Holden had escaped, so he wouldn’t be too panicked. He’d simply think that the dresser had somehow failed. She’d send a note to her father, she decided. But even as s
he turned away to find someone with paper and pen, in her peripheral vision, she saw Vladimir speaking earnestly to Claudia, who nodded, said something to her father and rose. Vladimir then put his arm around his fiancée and, even while the models were still onstage, they moved toward an exit. Her father appeared annoyed. He clearly thought it showed bad manners to leave before the show was finished. The Russian must have claimed illness or something.

  Kimi’s stomach clenched as she saw the pair of them arm in arm, heading not for the main exit where Brewster had been taken, but for a side door.

  If he got Claudia out, unchecked…she didn’t let herself finish the sentence, and moved quickly. From backstage she hurried in the direction she’d seen them leave.

  She heard them before she saw them. Claudia’s voice said, “Vladimir, you’re going too fast.”

  “Need to get some air. Feel like I’m going to puke.”

  “The exit’s the other way. Let me get you a medic.”

  “No.”

  Kimi came around the corner in time to see her father appear. Damn. “What is the problem?”

  “Vladimir’s sick. I think he’s disoriented.”

  “Maybe if you could bring the car around,” Vladimir said to her father. “I don’t want to go back out there. I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Don’t go anywhere with him. He’s not sick,” Kimi said, rushing over to join the group.

  When he saw her, Vladimir didn’t gasp or shout out, but he did pale enough that indeed he looked sick.

  “Kimi!” Claudia cried. “Where have you been?”

  “It’s a long story, but I was involved in trying to stop the theft of a couture piece.” She looked at her sister and realized how delicate their new relationship was and that what she was about to say might destroy it forever. “I’m so sorry, Claudia. But Vladimir is part of a couture theft ring.”

  “What?” The big blue eyes so like her own widened. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “Of course it is,” Vladimir said. “She must be on drugs or something.”

  “What proof do you have?” her father snapped.

  She walked closer, to where the light was better and revealed her wrists. They were chafed red, and already bruises were beginning to show. “Vladimir and Brewster Peacock kidnapped Holden and me. They left us tied up and tried to steal Nicola Pietra’s wedding gown.” She was still speaking directly to Claudia, who tried to step forward when she saw the state of Kimi’s wrists, but Vladimir held her tight, leaning his head on her shoulder and holding her in place. Claudia might see that as need but Kimi knew he was controlling her.

  “Vladimir?”

  “She’s crazy. Trying to make trouble.” He groaned loudly. “I feel really bad. Can you get the car? We can sort all this out tomorrow.”

  She and Giovanni exchanged a glance. “I’ll get the car,” he said. “Claudia? Why don’t you come with me.”

  “No, Papa. I’ll stay here.”

  “I’ll return as quickly as I can.”

  Once more he looked at Kimi and then he walked swiftly away.

  Her eyes closed briefly. This wasn’t the time to think about betrayal. Her father barely knew her; of course the story would sound crazy.

  Now she needed to convince Claudia not to go with Vladimir and hope like hell that somebody would come along who could separate the woman from her fiancé. She fingered the whistle around her neck, but Vladimir’s grasp on Claudia made her cautious.

  Instead, she tried to reason with her sister. “Please, Claudia. I would never try to hurt you.”

  “Nobody believes you,” Vladimir sneered, glaring at her with his cold, cold eyes. “Why don’t you go away.”

  “She’s not going anywhere. I don’t understand any of this, but Kimi needs a doctor too.”

  “You should step away from him, Claudia. He’s a dangerous man.”

  “Come on, you’ve known her for two days. I’m going to be your husband. Who are you going to believe?”

  She didn’t move, but she said to Kimi, “Why would he do something like that?”

  “For money. I don’t know much about Vladimir’s business, but I don’t think most of it is legal.”

  “I don’t have time for this,” the Russian said. “I’m gonna puke. Come on.”

  He made a move for the back exit, pulling Claudia with him, but she stepped out from under his arm. “You go. I’ll catch up.”

  His face turned ugly. “You’re going to believe some American psycho over me? I’ll leave you if you do.”

  Claudia’s eyes filled with tears as she glanced from one to the other. Then she stepped closer to Kimi. “She’s my sister.”

  “You’re going to regret that decision.” He reached into his jacket. Kimi hadn’t imagined he could have a weapon on him, how had he got through security? What if she’d put Claudia in danger while trying to protect her?

  “No!” she cried, even as the exit door behind them opened and Claudia’s father’s driver entered, followed closely by her father. And Holden.

  She realized in that moment that her father’s chauffeur was more than a driver. He came in with weapon drawn, a big man with steady eyes and a steady hand.

  But Vladimir was a split second ahead of him. He grabbed Claudia with one hand, attempting to haul her against him while with the other drawing out a gun.

  “No!” the sisters cried as one. Kimi held on to Claudia as she attempted to get free of Vladimir. Holden threw himself in front of the women.

  The noise of a gun firing in the small space was deafening. For a second, Kimi wasn’t sure who had fired, then she heard a string of Russian curses and, over Holden’s shoulder, saw Vladimir on the ground. Her father grabbed the gun that had fallen to the floor.

  “Are you okay?” Holden asked her.

  “Yes.”

  “Claudia?”

  The younger woman was trembling and her voice was barely audible. “Yes. Thank you.”

  The gunshot drew a small crowd, mostly security guys and cops. Kimi heard one of them call for paramedics.

  Claudia stepped forward. Her hand shook as she yanked off the large diamond on her left hand.

  “Vladimir, I am officially ending our engagement.”

  He groaned.

  She tossed the engagement ring onto his chest where it flashed in garish imitation of the diamonds on Simone’s wedding dress.

  Holden and the driver ushered Claudia, Kimi and Giovanni outside.

  “My daughter,” Giovanni said, folding Claudia into his arms. Then he turned. “And my other daughter.” He turned to Kimi and embraced her as tenderly.

  “I thought you didn’t believe me,” she said against his shoulder, which was broad and fatherly, feeling suddenly misty.

  “Of course I did. I was trying to send you a signal that you were to stay with Claudia while I alerted the authorities.”

  “Oh.”

  “Now, I must take you to a doctor and have you checked out after being so mistreated by those animals.”

  Kimi shook her head. “I’m all right, really.”

  “Nonsense. I’m your father. You’ll do what I say.”

  She bit back a smile. It was kind of nice to be ordered around by a father. Not that she had any intention of following his order.

  “I’ll take her, sir,” Holden said.

  There was a tiny pause. Her father nodded. “Be sure that you do. I will call on you tomorrow, Kimi, to make certain you are all right.”

  “Thank you.”

  He kissed her forehead.

  “Good night, Kimi,” Claudia said, then gave her a hug.

  “I’m sorry about Vladimir.”

  She nodded, and hugged tighter. Then they left and Claudia slid into the dark blue sedan whose door was being held open for her by the uniformed driver.

  THEY WATCHED the Mercedes drive away, then she turned to Holden and simply walked into his arms. “We did it.”

  “Yes, we did.”

  She lea
ned up on her toes and nibbled his lips. “Now what shall we do?”

  “Take you straight to a doctor.”

  “I don’t need a doctor.”

  “I promised your father,” he said.

  “But—”

  “Don’t argue. If I don’t have you checked out he’ll have me taken out and horsewhipped.”

  Her lips curved. In her whole life she’d never had two such bossy men order her around. “You’re not afraid of my father.”

  “Truth is, I want somebody to bandage my wrists, and I’ll look like a pansy if I go alone.”

  She laughed. “I’m stuck between two strong-minded bullies.”

  He kissed her. “Get used to it. I don’t think your father is going anywhere.”

  But you are, she thought sadly, as she called for her car.

  While they were waiting, there was a small commotion, and then a nearly distraught Nicola Pietra dashed over to them and threw herself into Kimi’s arms. “Grazie,” she cried. “Simone told us all. We almost lost our beautiful dress. You have saved my wedding. Grazie.”

  “You’re welcome,” Kimi said. “I wish you every happiness.”

  Mark Apple followed more slowly. He shook Holden’s hand solemnly. “Thanks, man.”

  21

  “THAT WAS a couture week to remember,” Kimi said the following night as she strolled with Holden beside the river, remembering another walk they’d taken by the river only a few days earlier.

  “It was a week to remember in every way,” he said, turning her to face him. He kissed her so very sweetly, and she thought how much she wanted to stay exactly like this, in this perfect moment, and not return to her neatly packed cases, and her early ride to the airport.

  Holden had compromised on the hospital visit, having the on-site paramedics bandage Kimi’s wrists. Naturally, she’d made them clean and bandage his as well. They both wore long sleeves tonight. She was in a black Armani dress and a string of pearls, so she felt she looked Italian, and demure enough that she had been certain of her father’s approval when he and Claudia had come to bid her goodbye. Claudia was pale and it was obvious she’d been crying, but Kimi thought she saw enough strength and pride in her sister to know she’d be okay. The three had all shed a few tears at parting.