“That diamond belongs to the Benedettis, who are free to sell it to whomever they please. I’m not cheapening the past. I’m part of a company that allows ordinary people to touch extraordinary things. I don’t understand why you can’t see that.” His criticism stung, not just because he was insulting her job, but also because he was making her doubt herself. Sometimes the commercialism of her business did irritate her. Sometimes she cringed to see a beautiful vase or painting pass into the hands of someone who wanted to have it because they were rich, not because they appreciated it. But who was she to judge other people’s motives? That was definitely not in her job description. “I have to go back to work.”
“Vittorio Benedetti stole that diamond, Christina.” Passion filled his voice; determination was written in his eyes.
She wanted to believe him, but how could she? “You always think everything is stolen.”
“I know him. I met Vittorio many years ago.”
“I would need a lot more than your word. Do you have any proof?”
“My word should be enough for you -- my daughter.”
“That’s why it isn’t, Dad.” The gaze she gave him was direct and honest. “I’m not a little girl anymore whom you can fool with your games. I know who you are, what you’re capable of doing.”
“I don’t think you do, and it makes me sad.”
“Well, you’ve certainly given me some sad days, too. Where was your protective instinct when I lost my job at the museum? You want to know why I work for an auction house? Because no museum would hire me, and it took me almost two years before Barclay’s would take me on. All because of you and your ridiculous obsessions.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “I am sorry about that incident. But it was not as it appeared.”
“It never is.” She paused, knowing she had to ask him the question that had been burning through her brain for the past two hours. “There is something I want to know. Who would have the ability to copy a diamond like the Benedetti?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask? Do you think the stone is a fake?”
“When I looked at the diamond this morning, the specifications didn’t exactly match those on the appraisal report done last month in Florence. That report mentioned a small mineral inclusion in the shape of a heart. I couldn’t see it.”
“Mineral inclusions are not always visible from various angles.”
“I’m aware of that. What I want you to tell me is if I have a copy of the diamond or the real thing. And if I have a copy, who made it, who put it there, and who has the real stone?”
“That’s a lot of questions, Christina.”
“Last night someone set off smoke bombs at Barclay’s, causing a huge commotion. I was wearing the diamond, and it slipped off my neck for a split second.” She paused. “I was talking to Professor Keaton at the time, your old friend. Is he working with you? Did he somehow switch the diamond, bring you the real thing?”
“Is that why you went to my house last night?” he asked.
“Yes, I wanted to see if the diamond was in the safe,” she admitted. “And I thought I saw you leaving Barclay’s. Were you there?”
“You weren’t alone at my house,” he said, not addressing the second part of her question.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Who was with you?”
“Oh, just a special agent with the FBI named J.T. McIntyre, who, by the way, now happens to be extremely suspicious of me and will no doubt have run a full background check on both of us by the end of the day. You have to leave, Dad, go away -- far away. But before you do, you need to give me back the real diamond if you have it.”
“Did it ever occur to you that the diamond could have been switched at any time, perhaps by the Benedetti family? Think about it, Christina. They show your appraiser the real thing, and then they ship a fake to Barclay’s. You said yourself that you can’t be sure if the diamond is real or fake.”
“No, I’m not sure. But why would the Benedettis try to sell a fake diamond?”
“It would be difficult to trace it to them. If anyone found out, it would be blamed on Barclay’s.”
“On me,” she muttered. Was she being set up? Was that what this was about?
“Or the other alternative is that the appraiser in Florence made a mistake in his report. It would be difficult to copy an entire necklace, especially one that hasn’t been in the public eye. The only person who could do that would be someone who had a great deal of time to study the diamond and the chain.”
It was the same point she’d made to J.T. Maybe her father was right. She would check with the appraiser in Florence, discuss the flaws, the mineral inclusion. Perhaps one of them had simply made a mistake. It wasn’t as if she’d had a great deal of time to study the stone, not with J.T. looking over her shoulder. Perhaps all of his talk about thieves and con men had clouded her brain.
“If there is some possibility that the diamond you have is a copy, then it’s even more reason for you to distance yourself from it, Christina,” her father said. “Learn from my mistakes. Don’t get so close that it looks like you’re involved.”
“At the museum it didn’t just look like you were involved, Dad. You were involved.”
He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “That’s all in the past. What’s important is that I love you, and I’m worried about you. Call in sick. Stay home. Make up an excuse.”
“I can’t do that. I have to figure out if the diamond is a fake, and if it is, I can’t let Barclay’s sell a false stone. It would ruin the company, and it would ruin me.”
He frowned in dissatisfaction, stroking his jaw with one hand. “All right. Maybe I can help. I have some...contacts. I can see if anyone knows anything about a copy being made. Can you give me a little time?”
She hesitated, not sure she wanted his help, but what choice did she have? “The auction is tomorrow at noon. I have to make a decision early in the morning.”
“You can call it off right up to the last minute,” he told her.
“I’d have to give a reason why I didn’t call it off today.”
“You weren’t sure. You had to take another look, which is the truth. I know you’re big on the truth,” he said with a half smile. “I guess I did something right raising you.”
She felt herself weaken at his fond smile. He always did this to her. He always made her forget that she had every reason to be seriously angry with him. In many ways he was like a little kid who never had to answer to authority, a regular Peter Pan, who considered life one big game, the world one enormous playground. “I have to get back to work,” she said.
“I understand. I’ll be in touch,” he said. “Stay away from that FBI guy.”
“Believe me, I’d like to, but he appears to be permanently attached to me. Fortunately, he seems to think someone named Evan Chadwick is trying to steal the diamond. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of him.”
He shook his head. “Can’t say that I have, but I don’t know every thief in the world.”
“Just most of them,” she finished.
“You give me too much credit.” He paused, an odd look coming into his brown eyes. “I didn’t realize how much you’ve grown up. You’re so beautiful. You look...just like your mother,” he said, his voice growing husky.
Her breath caught in her throat. “I do?” He had never said that before.
He nodded slowly. “Yes, and you know that I’d do anything to protect you, don’t you?”
“Are you trying to tell me something?”
Smiling, he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. Then he slipped on his dark glasses and walked away.
She put her hands on the railing in front of her and let out a breath of air. She was relieved in some ways, but disturbed in others. Her father had made a point of saying he’d do anything to protect her, as if he thought she was in some kind of danger. Why? Was he really just concerned about a curse? Or was there something more he wasn’t telling her? She w
ondered if she’d made a mistake confiding in him her concerns about the diamond. He certainly hadn’t managed to allay them; instead he’d given her more to worry about.
* * *
Evan Chadwick moved through the hallways of Barclay’s Auction House as if he owned the place. His disguise was so good no one gave him a second glance. He had their trust. And soon he would have their diamond. As he walked down the hall he saw J.T. in the conference room talking on his cell phone. He couldn’t help but smile. He loved it when J.T. was close and yet so far away. They’d actually spoken earlier. J.T had looked right at him and seen a stranger. He had no idea who he really was. It amused him to see J.T. spinning his wheels. It also amused him that J.T. thought Christina was Evan’s pawn. Well, she was, but not in the way J.T. thought. He had plans for Christina Alberti, big plans, and nothing J.T. could do would stop them.
He breezed past the conference room and strolled down the stairs to the first floor. When he left the building, he saw the limo parked a block away. She had no idea how to be discreet, he thought with annoyance. He deliberately walked past the white stretch limo, past the chauffeur who had stepped out of the car to open the door for him. He saw the surprised look on the man’s face, but he kept walking. They were too close to Barclay’s for this meeting.
Evan continued on around the corner, down the block, blending in with tourists and locals taking their lunch break. A block later the limo pulled up next to the curb and double-parked. He opened the door and got in. He sat back against the plush leather seat, not bothering to look at her.
“Damn you, Evan,” she hissed. “How dare you dismiss me like that?”
“I said I would call when I needed to talk to you.”
“Well, I needed to speak to you,” she said. “Look at me.”
He was tempted not to, just because he loved to push her buttons, but for the moment he would let her believe that she was still in control. This scheme might have been her idea, but it was now his job. And he would handle it.
He took his time turning his gaze to hers. When he finally looked at her face, he could see the anger in the taut pull of skin over her cheekbones. She was very thin and appeared to be in her forties, maybe older. It was impossible to tell. She’d had at least three plastic surgeries. Nothing about her was real, from her enlarged breasts to her full lips to her straight nose. She was as fake as he was, and there was the same wild look in her eyes that his mother had had right before she’d gone crazy and tried to kill him. He’d learned then how to survive. Kill or be killed. He hoped she wouldn’t make the same mistakes his mother had made.
“There’s a dinner party tonight,” she said. “You’ll be there.”
“Of course. I’ve already arranged it.”
“I want you to get rid of that FBI agent.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because he’s a fed and he’s going to ruin everything.”
“He tried before.”
“And he had you in jail,” she reminded him.
“But not for long.”
“Get your revenge on your friends on your own time. I want him out of it.”
Evan shrugged. “When it’s time for him to go, he’ll go.”
She shook her head, annoyance adding lines to her face. “That’s not good enough. I can’t take the chance of losing everything now. We’re so close. I want it done.”
He loved her desperation. Desperate people believed what they wanted to believe and saw what they wanted to see -- the perfect mark. She thought she was in charge. She was so wrong. “Tomorrow it will be over.”
Her eyes hardened. “If I don’t get what I want, you will be of no further use to me.”
He didn’t bother to tell her that her usefulness to him would come to an end far sooner than that.
* * *
“Where have you been?” J.T. asked, following Christina into her office. He didn’t like the way she avoided his gaze. She’d taken a very long lunch, and he was still damning himself for letting her leave the building without him. She’d certainly made no mention of her intentions when he’d left her talking to the press a few hours earlier.
“I’ve been at lunch,” she replied, sitting down behind her desk. “I have some calls to make; do you mind?”
“Not curious as to whether or not I’ve learned anything about who set the smoke bombs?” he asked, taking a seat in the chair across from her.
“Did you?”
“That question is a little late in coming.”
“I told you before, my job is not security. As long as the diamond is safe now, I’ll leave it to you and the others to worry about who set off the smoke bombs last night.”
She busied herself shuffling the stack of papers on her desk. He could see that she wanted him to leave. Tough. He knew a bit more about her now than he had the night before. His assistant, Tracy, had come through, as she always did.
The silence was getting to Christina. Finally she looked up at him. “Is there something else you want?”
“Yes. I want to know where your father is right now and where he was last night.”
“I told you that he’s traveling. I don’t know where he is.”
“You’re lying.” He leaned back and kicked his feet up on her desk, knowing it would piss her off.
“Do you mind?”
“Hey, I’m just getting comfortable. Looks like we’re going to be here awhile if you continue to stall.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“How about starting with the fact that your father is a thief?”
She swallowed hard and licked her lips. “That’s never been proven.”
“But you’re not denying it.” He swung his feet back to the floor. Resting his arms on her desk, he gave her a hard stare.
“There have been a lot of rumors about my father over the years, but deep down he’s a good person, and he would never hurt me by stealing something I’m supposed to protect.”
“Unless you’re working together, as you did before,” J.T. suggested. “As I understand it, you were employed at the same museum and resigned about the same time he did -- just after some very important artifacts went missing. I find that curious.”
“Really? You find that curious? My father gets accused of stealing, and it surprises you that I might be painted with the same brush? Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?” She challenged, a fire in her eyes. “You’re using previous accusations against my father to suggest that I’m up to something now, along with him -- a man you’ve never met.”
“If you were innocent of any wrongdoing at the museum, you would have fought for your job,” he said. “You seem to have enough guts to stick up for yourself.”
“I’ve grown a stronger backbone since then. I resigned because I didn’t like the way they treated my father or me. It was better for me to move on.”
“And your fiancé didn’t beg you to stay?”
She sat up in surprise, a frown knitting her brows. “How do you know about Paul?”
“I made some calls. I spoke to a few people at the museum. They told me you were engaged to the assistant curator, Paul Michaels, until he turned your father in.”
“If you know everything already, why are you asking me?”
“I thought you might want to give me your version.”
“I don’t have a version. I was engaged. We broke up. That’s the end of it.”
“Paul told me that you would do anything for your father -- that he was the only man you could ever love.”
Shadows filled her eyes at his harsh words. He felt a twinge of remorse at having spoken so bluntly. But he needed to get to the truth, find a way to break through the guard Christina had put up.
“I’m sorry Paul feels that way,” she said quietly. “He didn’t understand me then, and he doesn’t understand me now.”
“Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s right.”
She shrugged. “You can think what you want. You weren’t there.
You don’t know me. You don’t know any of us.”
“What I want to know is where your father is.”
“You have a better chance of finding him than I do. You seem to have plenty of resources to work with.”
“Oh, I’ll find him. I just thought you might want to help clear his name before I dig any deeper.”
“Clear his name of what?” she challenged. “My father hasn’t done anything.”
“How would you know that -- if you haven’t seen him or talked to him recently?”
She fumbled for an answer. “I just know what I know.”
“Well, that convinces me,” he drawled.
“I don’t care if it convinces you or not. I have to work. Get out of my office.”
He smiled at her demand. Even when she was trying to be rude, there was a veneer of politeness to her words. He was surprised she hadn’t added please at the end. She might be a liar and perhaps even a thief, but she did have good manners. He decided to change the subject. “Before I go, you might be interested to know that I spoke to Michael Torrance.”
Her posture relaxed slightly at his words. She obviously didn’t have a vested interest in protecting Michael Torrance from him.
“I take it he’s not the guy you’re looking for?” she asked.
“He doesn’t appear to be. I sat not three feet from him. I don’t think Evan could fool me if we were face-to-face. He also spoke extensively about his art collections and, quite frankly, bored the shit out of me. The paintings on his wall looked like something a five-year-old had drawn.”
She smiled at that. “Michael has eclectic taste, and he’s very passionate about his art. He also has an extensive collection of diamonds.”
“Yeah, he told me about that, too. He said a diamond is a great chick magnet.”
“I doubt he said it like that. He’s much more refined.”
“That was the gist of it. You don’t really buy his polished-sophistication act, do you? That guy is a tool. I can’t believe he never tried to pick you up.”
“He flirted a bit on the phone, but we hadn’t met in person until yesterday.”
“Well, I’d keep your eye out for him. He thinks you’re hot.”
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