“I’ll take care of it,” Willard broke in. “There must be spare pieces of wood in the back storeroom.”
“I’ll go with you, sir.”
Cassandra rested her cheek against the softness of Reilly’s leather jacket. She found Willard staring at her. She couldn’t read the swirl of emotions in his eyes. “Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say.
Willard acknowledged the policeman’s words with a nod and headed into the back. Drawing in a deep breath, Cassandra laid her palms flat against Reilly’s chest. She turned and placed her forehead there as a sense of calmness and safety filled her. Was it because she was in Reilly’s arms?
Whoa, wait a minute. What was she doing?
She didn’t want Reilly to comfort her. Hadn’t she learned anything over the years? Hadn’t the icy wall she’d built around her heart reminded her trusting men was something she’d have to live without? “Its okay, I’m okay, you can let go now.” She forced herself to step out of his embrace.
“Are you sure?” Reilly lessened his hold, but still kept his arms around her back.
Cassandra nodded, moving away. “I just don’t understand what happened here. I guess that’s what I find so unsettling.”
“You’re safe. You know that, don’t you?”
His low words caused Cassandra to look back. Reilly laid a hand across his chest, and she caught the quick drum roll of his fingertips against the sleeve of his jacket. Her eyes widened. The memory of the dark metal of his gun vanishing into his leather holster last night at dinner flashed in her head. “I thought we already discussed this,” she replied. “I don’t have any need for your protection.”
Reilly grabbed her wrist. “Is that why you sleep with a light on and the ringer on your phone turned off? What the hell do you call what happened here?”
“Breaking and entering, if memory serves from watching all those police dramas on TV.” Cassandra pulled away from his touch, ignoring his first question.
“Where nothing is taken? How do you explain that?”
“Easy, I don’t think they got far before realizing an alarm was set off. They left before deciding what to take.”
“Deciding what to take? What do you think this was? A late night shopping trip?”
Willard reappeared with small pieces of plywood, a hammer and a box of nails. “I know exactly what happened.” Cassandra lowered her voice as he walked closer. “As soon as the police sirens could be heard, they left.”
Reilly followed her when she trailed after Willard to the door. “Without bothering to nab a little something for their troubles? Not likely.”
“I don’t want to discuss this anymore.” Cassandra stopped near Willard and the officer, who were picking up the pieces of glass off the floor. She tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you need any help?”
“I think we can handle this,” Willard said. “It’ll be fine for tonight and we can contact the glass company in the morning. If you’d like, I can take you home after I’m done here.”
“Don’t worry,” Reilly said. “I’ll make sure she gets home.”
Cassandra rose, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets before releasing a rush of air that sent the curls against her cheek flying into the air. “Willard, you’ll lock up?”
“I’d be glad to.”
“Wait a minute.” Reilly stepped forward and grabbed her arm. “You told the detective you and Lily are the only ones who have keys to the lock on the gate.”
“No, I told the detective I knew Lily wouldn’t forget to secure the lock.” Cassandra wrenched herself free. “He never asked who has a key.”
Darkness settled over Reilly’s features, a muscle twitching at his jawline. “Okay, I’m asking. Any other members of the city’s elite have a key to that lock?”
Cassandra refused to back down from his stare. “No. Only me, Lily and Willard.”
“Cass, I am so sorry.”
Tucking the pencil into the knot of hair on her head, Cassandra dropped the notepad to the counter. “You’ve been apologizing every day for the last week. Would you please knock it off?”
Lily opened her mouth then quickly snapped it shut again.
Cassandra knew her smile took the edge off her words but she could see traces of guilt and fear in Lily’s eyes. “I don’t blame you. There has to be an explanation for what happened last week. It’s not you not doing your job.”
“Well, at least you and Willard have alibis. You have your cowboy over there and Willard has any one of his parents’ servants to vouch for him. Me? I was in bed surrounded by teddy bears. Who’s gonna believe me when it comes to the break in?”
“I do.”
“But considering the past—my past.” Lily’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You must’ve thought—I know it crossed your mind.”
“Not for one minute.”
“He knows about me, doesn’t he?”
Cassandra looked over her shoulder in the direction of Lily’s stare to find Reilly perched on the corner of her desk. With one hip hitched on the curve of dark wood, he gave the appearance of being immersed in the latest issue of Classic Antiques, but she knew he was watching her.
Just as he’d been doing every day, and night, for the last seven days.
His eyes followed her everywhere. From the moment she woke each morning to find him already dressed, with coffee hot and ready. After pouring her a steaming cup he always ended up standing directly in front of her, tucking the edge of his tee shirt into his jeans. Jeans that emphasized every well-built muscle of his legs.
Legs that followed her everywhere.
It didn’t matter if she was here at the store, at meetings with clients in their homes or over at the auction house. She and Reilly had had dinner twice with her mother, and both times she’d grappled with whether to tell her about the necklace. Then again, they were never alone because Reilly was always there.
“Yes, he knows.” Cassandra gave her head a quick shake to dismiss the memories before turning back to Lily. “It’s part of his job. So is confidentiality. Your past isn’t anyone’s business but yours.”
“Easy for you to say.” Lily outlined the figures on Cassandra’s notepad with her fingernail. “You don’t have an ex-husband doing five to ten at the state penitentiary for art theft.”
“And you aren’t living a lie just to keep your business alive, knowing if your clients found out your father died leaving you and your mother ruined, they’d drop you like yesterday’s news.”
Lily sighed, then smoothed out a non-existent wrinkle from her vintage 1950’s silk dress. “Okay, so we’ve both got something we want to keep hidden. I’m glad you agreed to let Reilly do his job, but are you sure he can be trusted?”
“As sure as I can be,” Cassandra countered. “But I still don’t think anything is really going on.”
“After all that’s happened, you still think that way?”
“Other than the break-in and that light fixture falling—which the electrician said was probably due to old age—nothing has happened. No near misses and no accidents. Not here, at home or any other place I’ve been in the last week.” Cassandra lowered her voice. “I even took the necklace to Sotheby’s for evaluation and to be photographed. Nothing. The necklace is safe and sound. So am I.”
“You’ve got to admit it’s kind of creepy to think about someone breaking in here just to take a look around. I mean, the inventory check proved they didn’t take anything, but still, they were here.”
“I still think whoever it was got scared off once they heard the sirens.”
“Does he know—” Lily stopped for a moment. “I mean, did you tell him about your financial situation?”
“It’s none of his business. And he doesn’t know about the necklace either because again—ah, hello, Elizabeth.” Cassandra cut off her words when Willard’s mother, one of her best clients, entered the store and hurried to the counter.
“Cassandra darling, I’m so sorry to h
ear about the incident.” The older woman matched Cassandra in height, allowing her to easily lean over the counter. The feathers sprouting from her oversized hat quivered where they hung over one eye. “Such a thing, and in this neighborhood. My dear, sweet Willard was just beside himself thinking of what might’ve happened if you’d been here!”
“Thank you, but I can assure you we’re fine.”
Schooling her features to remain neutral after hearing Lily’s departing whisper about an overstuffed chicken, Cassandra subtly leaned forward. She inhaled a quick sniff, thankful not to find the telling odor of alcohol on Elizabeth’s breath. “Is there something of interest I can show you today? I recently returned from a buying trip in Europe—”
“Yes, dear, Willard told me.” Elizabeth waved away her words and slapped a newspaper on the counter with a coy grin. “What I’m interested in is this! How dare you keep it a secret, you little chit!”
Chapter Five
Glancing at the society page headlines, Cassandra could only make out the words found and necklace through Elizabeth’s jewel-encrusted fingers.
Wonderful! Just what she didn’t need. “What secret is that?”
“Come now, I’m talking about this intriguing necklace of yours.” Elizabeth turned the paper around. “It is true? Do you really have a necklace that once belonged to Russian royalty?”
Cassandra quickly scanned the opening paragraphs. They told of a necklace designed by the legendary Fabergé found by a New York City antique dealer after a trip to Europe.
Oh, Sebastian, I thought you’d keep my secret. At least until I know if Sotheby’s is going to accept the authenticity of the piece. “Hmmm, hard to keep a secret in this town, isn’t it?”
“It is you!” Elizabeth cried. “Is it here? Can I see it?”
“Now, you know I can’t confirm or deny the existence of the necklace until all the paperwork is in order.” Cassandra resisted the urge to pluck at those shaking feathers.
“But dearie, we’re practically family. I mean, you and Willard are…” Elizabeth paused and offered a suggestive smile, “…so close.”
“Elizabeth, you know Willard and I are only friends.” Cassandra tempered her sharp retort with a smile. “If I do have this necklace, I may be tempted to wear it to your ball this evening. You did receive Mother’s regrets?”
“Yes, I did, chérie.” With her lips pursed together tightly, Elizabeth looked more like overfed poultry every minute. “I don’t understand why she can’t attend. I mean, what’s a Bancroft party without a Van Winter? I mean, you’ll be there, but what will people think by her choosing to stay away?”
Offering a polite smile, Cassandra wondered how she was going to reply to the woman’s prying when a familiar arm pressed across her shoulders.
“I’m afraid I’m to blame, madam.” Reilly gave Cassandra a quick grin before moving around the end of the counter. “Margaret gave up her invitation to your party so I can accompany Cassandra this evening.”
“And who might this charming young man be?”
Taking Elizabeth Bancroft’s hand in his, Reilly raised it to his lips, placing a quick kiss on the age-spotted skin. “Please, call me Reilly.”
A pink stain splashed over Elizabeth’s cheeks. “Why, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”
“I’m visiting Cassandra and her mother.” Walking around the end of the counter, Reilly steered the woman toward the main part of the shop. “I do hope you don’t mind me taking Margaret’s place at your party, ça va, soit?”
“Oh, you speak French?”
Reilly rattled off a conversation with flawless perfection to Elizabeth while steering her out the front door with a smile and gentlemanly bow.
What in the world had just happened? He’d gotten rid of Willard’s mother and her nosy questions, but he’d also shooed away what was usually a guaranteed sale. And he was not going tonight. She hadn’t told him about the ball she was required to attend.
“Wow, did you hear him?” Lily scooted behind the register. “I don’t know what he said, but the old biddy was lapping it up.”
“Lily, don’t start. Willard’s mother is one of our best customers.” Cassandra’s attention focused on Reilly when he returned. “Why did you do that? You’re not going tonight.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Reilly jabbed his finger at Elizabeth’s forgotten newspaper, his voice sharp and caustic. “Is it true? Is that the same necklace you were wearing the day we met? It’s worth God knows how much and you’ve got it lying around this place.” He glowered at her. “You didn’t think it was something I should be aware of?”
“First of all, it’s not lying around,” Cassandra countered, her anger matching her bodyguard’s. “The necklace is in the safe.”
“Except for your visit to the auction house a few days ago. You should’ve told me what you were carrying with you.” Reilly scanned the article. “Russian royalty? It says the piece was created for the last Czar of Russia. Is that right?”
Cassandra swallowed hard. What difference did it make now if she told Reilly about the necklace? The news was already out. “Yes, my appraiser believes the necklace, created around the turn of the last century, is from the House of Fabergé—”
“Wait a minute, Fabergé? As in those decorated eggs?”
“Yes, Karl Fabergé created those eggs specifically for the House of Romanov, the royal family that once ruled Russia. Sebastian knows the man’s work and he thinks Fabergé himself created the necklace.” She paused. Just thinking about the history of the jewelry still created a quiver of anticipation to race through her. “Even more exciting, he was able to decipher the note we found with it that read ‘Princess Alexandra, Alexei thirteenth celebration’, and the date of August 1917.”
Lily and Reilly stared at her and asked in unison, “What does that mean?”
“The only thing we could figure out is a celebration must have been planned for the summer of 1917 in honor of the Czar’s son, Alexei.” Cassandra sighed. “The Romanovs abdicated the throne in March of that year and months later—”
“Yeah, I know. They were taken away and executed,” Reilly interrupted. “I watch the History Channel too.”
“Sebastian thinks this necklace was created for the Czar’s wife, Princess Alexandra, to wear to the celebration. Only she never got the chance.” Cassandra picked up the newspaper, and folded it in half. “End of history lesson.”
“You should’ve told me the first night we met.”
“I am not required to give you the details of my business dealings.” Her fingers clenched at the newspaper. “The necklace is my property until I make a decision what to do with it, whether it’s putting it up for auction or wearing it to the Bancrofts’ ball tonight.”
Reilly folded her arms over his chest. “Well, sweetheart, that’s more reason to consider me your escort tonight.”
That wasn’t a good idea. “Look, the guest list includes the Mayor, Fortune 500 CEOs and members of Congress. There will probably be one or two representatives from the United Nations, not to mention the de la crème of New York’s society, there.”
“Your point?”
Her eyes roamed freely over all six plus feet of her bodyguard, dressed in the same outfit he’d worn all week. A different colored tee shirt each time and his jeans switched from light blue to dark black, but always the same. The same leather jacket, and although she couldn’t see them, the same cowboy boots.
And he looked wonderful.
Forcing her gaze away from the wide expanse of his chest, she directed it to his face. “It’s black tie only. That means you—”
“I know what black tie means. Don’t worry, princess, I’ve got a tuxedo stashed away in my duffel bag.”
“But it’s more than how a person dresses…” Cassandra’s voice faded. How was she going to explain this? For someone like her, who’d attended these events since childhood, it was just another evening. To someone who looked
as if he’d be more at home on a sprawling Texas ranch than in an Upper East Side mansion, it could be a disaster. “This party is about showing off. It’s how you speak and how you dance. It’s about how you eat, for goodness’ sake.”
“Don’t worry.” His voice, low and cool, joined the air conditioning in dropping the temperature in the shop. “I won’t step on your toes during the waltz.”
“I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Sure you did. But if you and your million-dollar necklace are going on the town tonight, sweetheart, so am I.”
“Three million dollars.” Lily cut in.
Cassandra and Reilly both turned to look at her.
“Did I say that aloud?” Lily grimaced. “Sorry. So, um—have you decided what you’re going to wear tonight?”
“No.” Cassandra dropped the newspaper in the trash. “Since the ball gown was ruined last week, I need to stop by my mother’s and pick up a dress.”
“What? No room at le château for ball gowns and tiaras?”
Cassandra bit hard at her bottom lip, ignoring Reilly’s parting shot before he moved away from the counter. The next sound she heard was the opening and closing of the front door.
“He’s gone,” Lily said. “Oh Cass, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt out the value of the necklace.”
“It’s okay. I guess Sebastian couldn’t keep a secret either.”
“Ouch, that hurt.”
“I didn’t mean that.” Cassandra turned back. “I just didn’t expect to find a story about the necklace in the society pages.”
“Maybe someone at Sotheby’s leaked the story.”
“Perhaps, but it doesn’t really matter. Who knows? Maybe the advance publicity will help.” Cassandra’s muscles protested, but she refused to let them to relax so she could see Reilly through the large plate-glass window.
Lily took a quick peek over her shoulder. “He’s still there, talking on his cell phone. You know, you couldn’t have sounded more of a snob if you tried.”
“I didn’t mean it like it came out.”
“So, what did you mean?”
Reilly's Promise Page 7
