Текст книги "The Affair"

Автор книги: Beth Kery

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 34 страниц)

Chapter 23

Vanni spoke to Niki using a hands-free headset during his very swift drive between his villa near Saint-Jeannet and the airport on Sunday morning. An emergency had called him away from a planned meeting with some top officials in regard to the race in two weeks’ time.

At least if felt like an emergency to Vanni. Others might disagree.

“Just smooth things over for me, won’t you? Make something up. You’re good at that,” Vanni was saying as he took a hairpin mountain turn with the ease of long practice.

“I resent that,” Niki told him, his unconcerned, mild tone at odds with his words.

“Only because you assumed I meant making up stories to your various women,” Vanni said with a distracted smile. “In fact, I meant you’re a natural diplomat. It’s in your genes.”

“We are talking about smoothing royal feathers here. That’ll cost you double for the favor,” Niki replied, referring to one member of the Montand French-American Grand Prix planning committee who was a relation to the neighboring state’s monarchial family.

“You can do it. You’re part of their family, after all.”

“I’m a tacked-on leaf of a very disreputable branch,” Niki replied dryly. “And I can think of one non-royal bird who is going to be extremely ruffled by your absence. No amount of Dellis diplomacy is going to smooth that over.”

“I have complete faith you’ll make her forget I even exist,” Vanni said drolly as he plunged down the mountain, the sun-infused Mediterranean sparkling like liquid turquoise beneath a sky as smooth and blue as a robin’s egg. The particular committee member Niki was referring to was a very beautiful, married socialite who had been vying for Vanni’s attention since he was first introduced to her at her own wedding six years ago.

“You must give Estelle credit,” Niki mused, and Vanni could almost see the glimmer of humor in his friend’s black eyes. “She remains convinced after all these years she can change your mind about taking a married woman as a lover. I myself was always a little confused by this American fastidiousness of yours.”

“You know it’s got nothing to do with being American. It’s got everything to do with being Michael Montand’s son.”

He didn’t recognize how bitter he’d sounded until he noticed the silence on the other line. He’d seen firsthand what his father’s frequent infidelities—what the ultimate betrayal—had done to his mother. No, Vanni was selfish, but he wasn’t cruel like Michael Montand.

“What is this emergency, Van?” Niki asked, his Greek accent almost disappearing with his sudden, focused concern. “Does it have to do with that lovely nurse you brought to Cristina’s funeral? I recognized what she was wearing around her neck. How did you manage to get Prisatti to give her one? Or did you mislead him somehow as to the identity of the receiver?”

“Do you think Angelo Prisatti thought it was for me?” Vanni asked sardonically.

“No, not a chance,” Niki chuckled. “I’m just desperate to know what in the world you told him in order to get him to part with it. That’d be excellent knowledge for any single man.”

“Only you would use a Prisatti angel to get a woman into bed.”

“I don’t need to. But isn’t that why you used it?” Niki challenged glibly.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“You sort of are my business, unfortunately. Are you sure you’re not more . . . unsettled by Aunt Cristina’s death than you’re letting on?” Niki asked.

“It has nothing to do with Cristina,” Vanni said in a hard tone. “As for the reason I’m leaving, it relates to the fact that I can’t sleep, and leave it at that,” Vanni said, rounding a mountain pass.

“You never can sleep,” Niki said with an air of stating the obvious.

“Now it’s for a different reason, though.”

He was telling the truth. He’d hardly had a moment’s rest since landing in France. Memories of making love to Emma would pop up at the most inopportune moments—on a walking tour with the rest of the grand prix committee of the race circuit, at a luncheon hosted in Cannes for the press, at an exclusive dinner he’d hosted at La Mer for the drivers that had started to dribble in from all over the world.

He’d think of her incessantly in his empty bed at night.

Her dark eyes haunted his dreams when he did catch a few hours. His sense of restlessness and hunger had mounted as the days passed. All he could seem to focus on were memories and fantasies of touching her, of breathing her unique scent, of holding her while she shook in climax . . .

Yesterday, Neil Parodas had called and informed him that Emma had been one hundred percent correct in saying she was completely healthy.

I’m not saying she experienced a miracle cure, of course, Neil had cautioned. There must have been some mistake if she was ever diagnosed with thalassemia. The most important thing, though, is that without a doubt, that girl is as healthy as they come.

A strange sensation had gone through Vanni at the news. It was like someone had mainlined adrenaline into his blood. The world took on a lucid, vibrant cast that hadn’t been there before, the brilliant colors of the flowers on the terrace of his villa, La Mer, the bright blue sea below the cliffs shocking his brain. If he didn’t know himself better, he would have sworn that swooping feeling had been pure relief . . . euphoric joy?

The rush of feeling had been so sharp and overwhelming, and so unfamiliar that Vanni wasn’t sure he trusted it. That didn’t diminish the emotion any, however.

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked Niki presently as he turned onto the road to the airport.

“Of course,” Niki replied.

“Call Vera and let her know I’m returning a day early. Have her send a car over to the airport. I’ve tried to reach her several times and failed.”

“What car do you want delivered?”

“A fast one,” Vanni replied grimly before he signed off.

On Sunday morning, Emma almost ran down Amanda on the way out the door. The meeting was unexpected. Both of them were startled and flustered, given their new, strained relationship and sudden close proximity, laughing and trying to get around each other. She noticed Amanda’s heavy backpack slung over her shoulder

She had to give her sister credit; Amanda had been incredibly dedicated to her schoolwork so far. Emma had been a little worried this new thing with Colin would distract her just when she needed to focus the most as she started medical school. It had pleased her to see that didn’t appear to be the case. Amanda had been up at dawn to go to the library to study since she had to work the evening shift at her waitress job tonight.

“Where are you off to?” Amanda asked breathlessly, leaving the front door open for Emma.

“I thought I’d go downtown and do a little shopping.”

“You’ve certainly grown uncharacteristically interested in clothes lately,” Amanda said, her expression friendly and amused, but curious as well. “It’s nice. I could never get you interested,” she laughed. She focused on the angel at Emma’s throat. “I suppose it all relates to Vanni?”

Emma shrugged. Several times this week, Amanda had tried to broach the topic of Vanni Montand, but Emma hadn’t been willing to share much except to say that she’d met him on her last work assignment and that they’d begun seeing each other on a casual basis. Given everything that had happened recently with Amanda and Colin, she felt hesitant sharing intimacies with Amanda. It was a fact that she hated, but that didn’t make it any less true. She prayed for the prickly, uncomfortable atmosphere to ease between Amanda and her, but it certainly hadn’t yet.

Besides, since discovering that Vanni had inexplicably bought her apartment complex, Emma was especially agitated on the topic of him. She wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that the man who made love to her with such ruthless precision and yet made it clear he didn’t “do” long-term relationships now owned her home. The whole scenario had left her bewildered and anxious. Talking about it with Amanda in the past would have probably helped her to clarify. All of that had changed, though.

What had Vanni intended by it all? It certainly left her in debt to him . . . not in debt, but responsible to him, somehow. He could drop her and forget her anytime he chose, but she couldn’t remove him from her life so easily. Not when he owned the very rooms where she walked, ate, and slept.

Besides the issue with her apartment, she was still very heartsore over the news about his young wife dying. She’d tried to find more information about his marriage and the identity of his former wife, but there hadn’t been anything online. Had Michael Montand Sr. used his influence, perhaps, to silence the news of his heir’s unapproved marriage and his wife’s untimely death?

“It would be hard to see a man like him and not want to look good,” Amanda said, interrupting her chaotic thoughts. “I still can’t believe it. Vanni Montand. You always did have all the family luck.”

Emma blinked. “I did?”

“Sure,” Amanda said, giving her a slightly startled glance before she set her backpack down on the entryway bench.

Emma gave a short laugh. “You’re the gorgeous one. You’re the brilliant doctor-to-be.” You’re the one who my ex-boyfriend preferred.

Amanda’s smile faded as she took a step toward her. “Do you ever really see yourself in the mirror, Emma?” Emma just stared back at her. “You’re beautiful. And what’s more, you don’t even have to try and you are. It doesn’t surprise me in the slightest that you snagged Montand’s attention.”

“Thanks,” Emma muttered, avoiding her sister’s stare.

“And you know you’re every bit as smart as me. You took that incredible load in nursing school and still aced all your classes and clinicals. And lucky?” Amanda shook her head incredulously. “You beat death, for God’s sake. Mom used to call you her little miracle.”

“I didn’t beat anything,” Emma said. “It just . . . happened.”

“You walk in grace.” Amanda shrugged when Emma gave her an incredulous glance. “Colin said it—after all this stuff with you finding us . . . you know. Together. And it’s true, Em. No one would have handled this situation as gracefully as you. You’ve been so reasonable about the whole thing. I have a feeling you’re being so patient because you’re thinking of what Mom would have wanted. But no matter what the reason, I know it took a very big person to react the way you have. And I appreciate it. I just . . . wanted you to know.”

“Thanks, but I think you’re both being a bit too generous with the praise,” Emma said shortly, taking a step toward the door.

She glanced back when Amanda grabbed her hand. “I’m not being too generous,” Amanda said steadfastly, her lower lip trembling slightly. “Emma . . . I’m so, so sorry.”

“For falling in love with Colin?”

“No. For falling in love in this way. It’s the last thing on earth I wanted.”

It was Amanda who stepped forward and hugged her. Emma stood stiff in the embrace at first. Something in her gave. She returned the hug every bit as warmly as her sister gave it. She shut her eyes and squeezed tight as emotion flooded her.

Abruptly, she backed away and reached for the door.

She’d missed Amanda so much.

It was going on two o’clock by the time she got off the subway and took the stairs up to State Street. She paused in the lobby of Macy’s when a woman offered to spritz her with a brand of perfume that she knew she liked, but couldn’t afford. She was in the process of rubbing her wrist on her neck, when her phone began to ring in her purse. Plucking out her phone in a distracted, unhurried fashion, she noticed the number.

“Hello?” she asked quickly, worried she’d taken too long and he’d hung up.

“It’s me,” Vanni said. “Where are you?”

“Downtown,” she said, her voice ringing with amazement not only at hearing his voice, but also at his brisk question. “I’m at Macy’s.”

“I know,” he said. “But where?”

“How did you know I was at Macy’s?”

“Emma? Where?” he growled softly.

“Okay,” she said, hearing the amused warning in his tone. She looked around the setting of the vintage, huge department store. “I’m in the perfume section on the first floor. Why?”

She glanced up, noticing that the salesgirl who had sprayed Emma’s wrist was staring in wide-eyed fascination over Emma’s shoulder.

“Because I’m looking for you,” Vanni said.

Emma’s mouth fell open in shock. She’d heard him speak in addition to hearing his voice on the phone. She looked over her shoulder.

He was hanging up his phone and slipping it into his back pocket.

“There you are,” he said briskly, blue-green eyes lowering over her in a satisfied manner. It was as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to approach her in the middle of a bustling department store. “I was worried I’d have trouble finding you.”

Emma spun around all the way, sure for several seconds she was hallucinating. But no, he didn’t disappear. He looked very vivid to her stunned eyes, not to mention indecently gorgeous in a sexy, light blue T-shirt that sexily skimmed his lean, muscular form, and a pair of jeans. His tan had grown deeper since she’d last seen him. The color of his shirt, the sun-gilded skin, and the dark brows and lashes all combined to make his aquamarine eyes even more striking looking than usual.

“Vanni . . . what are you doing here?” she mumbled, her brain vibrating with shock—shock and something else even more powerful and primal. A thrill of pure excitement had gone through her at the vision of him, leaving her body tingling.

“I came back from France early.” He stated the obvious. He looked behind her, quirking his dark brows, and Emma glanced over her shoulder. The salesgirl was still staring at him with that goofy grin. She seemed to come to herself at Vanni’s glance and muttered an apology before she walked away, silly smile still in place. Emma rolled her eyes at the show of female weakness he inspired.

“But how did you know I’d be here?” she asked.

“I stopped by your place. Amanda told me you’d gone shopping here.” His gaze flickered over her face and landed on her lips. He glanced aside distractedly when a woman with several large bags bumped into him. “Is this what you came shopping for? Perfume?”

“No,” Emma said, still staring at him. She still couldn’t believe he was here. She had an almost uncontrollable urge to touch him. Memories of sleeping in his arms when they were last together flooded her consciousness. She’d lain against his solid chest all night and stroked him whenever she chose, which was often. She’d allowed him to tie her up and spank her. They’d made love with savage abandonment.

Now he stood here so unexpectedly, and it was all so unbelievable. Her longing for him was still there—in fact it felt doubled. But the idea of touching him suddenly made her shy.

Idiot.

His eyebrows arched. His head lowered and she realized he was waiting for her to speak. “What are you shopping for then?” he prodded quietly as a group of shoppers rushed past them.

“Oh . . . you know. Just looking,” she managed. “A dress, maybe. Possibly a swimsuit.”

His steady stare seemed to swallow her whole.

“Dammit,” he said suddenly under his breath. He stepped forward and his arms encircled her. “When are you going to stop going shy around me?” he asked, his mouth slanted in amusement.

“I’m not—”

His mouth cut her off. All her awkwardness and uncertainty evaporated in a second beneath his kiss. She forgot where she was as he pierced her lips with his tongue and his taste flooded her consciousness.

“God you smell good,” he mumbled a stretched, delicious moment later, nuzzling her ear and neck. Emma shuddered in pleasure. “Is that the perfume you just put on?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Did Dr. Parodas contact you about our test results?” he asked, his nose in her hair, his lips brushing against her ear and making all the hairs stand on end along her neck.

“Yes,” Emma managed, finding his kiss and the topic both highly intimate in these mundane surrounding.

He looked at her, his expression shifting ever so slightly. If Emma had to guess, she’d say he was very satisfied by her answer.

“I have an idea,” he said.

“What?” Emma asked. He might have suggested they jump naked off the Willis Tower together, and she would have done it she was so momentarily enthralled by his eyes and deep, quiet voice.

“I’ll take you to a place where we can shop for a few items you’ll need. Then I’ll take you to bed and keep you there until we’re too weak to get out of it.”

A lightning flash of arousal went through her.

“A few items I’ll need for what?” she asked, choosing to focus on the safer topic.

“For your trip.” He arched his dark brows significantly. “To the Côte d’Azur?” he prompted as if he was gently reminding her of something she’d forgotten because she was so clearly befuddled by his kiss and nearness.

“To the French Riviera?” she asked skeptically.

He smiled, slow and brilliant. She felt that smile at the very pit of her being.

“Now you’re getting it. We leave on Tuesday.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said bemusedly as he took her hand.

“It’s simple. I have to be back in France soon for the buildup to the race and the race itself. We’ll go back in a few days, but when I go, you do. I want you there with me.”

“You do?” Emma asked. She blinked and glanced around at the familiar surroundings of the department store, trying to ground herself. She’d been flying around in his eyes for a moment. “I can’t. I have work.”

“You’ll take a vacation,” he said, pulling on her hand. She fell into step beside him. “You can call the office tomorrow, ask for time off.”

“Maybe, but it might be kind of tricky getting it on short notice,” she said, scurrying to keep up with his long-legged stride, her heart starting to pound with excitement in her chest despite the craziness of his proposal.

“It’ll be fine. You need a vacation. You’ll love the Côte d’Azur . . . and my house there.” He gave her a gleaming sideways glance.

“Maybe,” she hesitated, swept away by the sheer force of him. “It’s possible I could figure out something for work . . . but what about—”

He shook his head and pulled her in front of him as they neared the revolving doors. “I’m not going to this damn race without you,” he stated flatly. “Now . . . let’s go finish your shopping so that I have you to myself,” he said with grim determination, nodding toward the door.

Chapter 24

It was easy to be swept away by the power of his personality . . . by his intense attractiveness. By the time she sat in the passenger seat of a fierce-looking, ebony Montand convertible, reality hit her.

“I have a bone to pick with you,” she told him, smoothing her ruffled hair out of her face as he zoomed out of the parking garage. She’d never known a person to make such tight hairpin turns so effortlessly.

“What about?” he asked unconcernedly.

“I found out about you buying my apartment complex.”

He brought the car to an abrupt halt in the garage.

“How did you find out about that?” he demanded, eyebrows slanting.

“That friend’s father who I told you about? The cop who was going to help me with my deadbeat landlord?” she clarified hotly, all of her confusion and irritation over the discovery blazing high in her suddenly. “Why did you do that? And why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged slightly. “Because I thought you might react like this.”

“Of course I would. And will you answer my question? Why?”

He began driving again. “I didn’t intend to originally. When you told me about your trouble with your landlord, I had someone at my office look into it, just to see if I could nudge your owner into fixing all the stuff at your place.”

“You shouldn’t have done that. I could have taken care of it myself,” she said, scowling. He continued like she hadn’t spoken.

“The person I had working on it reported to me that Arthur Tamborg, the owner of your apartment complex, was in some seriously dire personal and financial straits and wasn’t responding to most phone calls. I had a look at his financials and decided the apartments he owned weren’t a bad investment. It was his lame management that was tanking things. So I decided to take the properties off his hands. I promoted somebody in order to manage, made a decent personal investment,” he paused while he paid the parking attendant, “and you got everything fixed on your list,” he said a moment later. He gave her a swift sideways glance before he pulled onto Wabash Avenue. “Why is that such a terrible thing?”

“So your decision to buy the apartments had nothing to do with me personally?”

“It related because I originally looked into Tamborg and the properties because of you, but after that, it was strictly business. It was a good investment. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think so,” he said, his gaze trained on the road.

“And it’s not going to make any difference whatsoever that you’re my landlord after we . . . after our time together is over?”

“Do you really think I’d try to hurt you somehow through your lease?” he asked, eyes flashing.

“No,” she admitted.

“I’m not your landlord. I won’t be even remotely involved in the day-to-day management of the apartments. That’d be the responsibility of the new property manager I hired.”

“I guess I don’t have any control over who buys or sells the place one way or another,” she conceded. “It just seems odd, that’s all. That you own my home.”

“Would you rather Arthur Tamborg was back?” he asked levelly as he crossed the bridge over the river on Michigan Avenue. Emma noticed several pedestrians doing a double take and staring at Vanni in the sleek, badass convertible.

“No,” she stated, frowning in memory of her dealings with the unresponsive landlord.

“Then there you have it. This way, if any other problems should arise at your apartment, you’ll get immediate results.”

“Just like everyone else who calls in with a problem,” she clarified.

“Of course,” he said smoothly as he pulled onto a side street. Emma studied him suspiciously, but she couldn’t locate a crack in his armor.

“Are we good?” Vanni asked her a few minutes later after they’d parked the car and walked down the sidewalk of a quiet, tree-lined street.

Emma looked at his profile. He caught her stare, and she couldn’t help but smile. It was hard to be miffed at him when her heart was doing cartwheels over seeing him again. He looked so tall next to her, so male . . . so beautiful.

“Just don’t do me any special favors,” she warned, forcing the smile off her face and replacing it with what she hoped was a forbidding glance.

He halted her by grabbing her hand and stopping. “What if I want to?”

Her fierce look faded at his sudden intensity and quiet question. “I meant in regard to owning my apartment complex. I don’t want any tenant favoritism.”

He gave a small smile and stepped forward. Her breath stuck on an inhale when he put his hands on her waist and the fronts of their bodies brushed together ever so slightly. “For now, you’re mine, Emma. I won’t have you struggling in any way if I can stop it. I’ll show you all the favoritism I want to,” he said before his mouth covered hers. She softened and heated beneath his kiss, his words ringing in her head.

For now, you’re mine.

By the time he lifted his head and stared down at her a moment later, she’d completely forgotten why she’d been irritated with him, or even that she stood on a city street lined with brownstones interspersed with shops and businesses. His sleek, demanding tongue and addictive taste had made her forget. He lightly caressed the shell of her ear, and her sex tightened with desire.

“It’s kind of hard to not show you any favoritism,” he murmured and Emma swayed forward, entranced by the heat in his eyes and his singular scent. “Are you going to complain more if I take you into that store right there and spoil you a little?” he nodded down the block. Emma turned to see where he indicated, her expression freezing when she saw the renowned department store on the corner. It was so exclusive and expensive that Emma had never even dreamed of stepping over the threshold, let alone shopping there.

“I don’t really need to go shopping, Vanni,” she said, backpedaling from what she’d said at Macy’s. “I was just passing the time when you found me.”

He began to walk down the street and she followed, her hand in his. “Trust me, if we didn’t need to do this, I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d have you at the Breakers in bed.”

“But I can’t—”

“You said you needed a dress and swimsuit,” he reminded her. “You’ll definitely need some new things for the trip.”

Emma sighed in exasperation as they entered the crosswalk.

“What?” he asked.

“I haven’t even spoken to Mrs. Ring yet about taking time off. Just because you act like something is going to happen doesn’t mean it will,” she said chuckling, both irritated and amazed by his absolute confidence.

“You’ll speak to Mrs. Ring tomorrow, and we’ll fly out on Tuesday,” he told her patiently. “You’ll see. It’ll be fine. And once we’re in France,” he nodded toward the department store, “you’re definitely going to want a new dress or two. Or three. This is more than just a race, it’s a social event that lasts almost a week.”

Emma glanced at the famous glass entrance to the department store. “But I can’t afford to buy things here, Vanni.”

“That’s all right,” Vanni said, reaching for the door and opening it for her. He met her stare steadily. “You’re with me.”

She shook her head, refusing to enter. He frowned.

“It’s a very simple thing, Emma. Do you want to come with me to the race?”

“Yes . . . if I can get off, that is,” she said fervently, dreading the idea of missing another week of their time together.

“If you think you’ll feel comfortable attending some of these events with me without any new dresses, then I’m fine with it. I was thinking of you in offering this.”

“Vanni,” she muttered under her breath, moved by his thoughtfulness and generosity, but torn. She glanced again anxiously at the name of the department store over the gilded entryway. If Mrs. Ring did grant her the time off and she indeed ended up going with him to France, he was correct. She’d look horribly out of place standing next to him in the extravagant European playground of the French Riviera. She didn’t want to embarrass him.

And they only had so much time together, after all . . .

He put out his hand.

“Come on. Just a couple of dresses, and then we’ll have some time to ourselves.”

“Okay,” she conceded, taking his hand.

The dressing room in the store was the size of her bedroom, featuring a lounging area with a sofa, coffee table, two armchairs, and an enormous, movable triple mirror. The friendly, chic middle-aged saleswoman, whose name was Sophia, escorted her into the changing lounge while asking her questions about fabric preferences and sizes. When Sophia asked her the names of her favorite designers, Emma gave her a wry grin.

“I doubt you’d find any labels from my closet here.”

Sophia’s smooth expression didn’t falter. “Not a problem. We’ll just introduce you to some new ones then.”

A younger associate peeked her head into the door and asked Emma what she’d like to drink.

“Nothing, thank you,” she told the young blond woman, a little flustered at the unexpected question.

“Bring her a tea service, please, and me as well,” Vanni instructed. Emma turned in surprise. He’d followed them into the women’s dressing lounge. Was there any place he wouldn’t tread with complete confidence?

“I’ll wait for you out there,” he told Emma, pointing to the lavish sitting area that was part of the lounge. They’d passed it on the way in, so she knew to what he referred. He directed his attention to Sophia. “Please bring her out so that I can see the ones that are worthwhile.”

“Of course, Mr. Montand. I’ll be right back with some selections for you to start on,” Sophia told Emma. “Just have a seat and relax.”

The young blond salesgirl returned first, carrying not a cup of tea, but an entire service including a pot of tea, a tiered tray of small sandwiches, fruit, scones, jam and cream, and a glass of champagne. Despite Emma’s awkwardness in the surroundings, she realized she was hungry and sampled one of the sandwiches and then a strawberry. A few minutes later, she sat on the couch with the teacup in her hand and a scone melting on her tongue, watching wide-eyed as Sophia breezed in with an armful of dresses.

“What about this one first?” she asked Emma, holding up a stunning mauve strapless gown. Sophia waved the dress over a sort of pedestal. Much to Emma’s amazement, a video popped up on the mirror of a gorgeous, slinky model strutting down the runway wearing the precise dress Emma was about to try on. She gasped.

“Is there a chip in the dress?” she asked Sophia, standing.

Sophia grinned. “Yes, a tiny one on a tag. Our customers like to see the outfits we sell professionally modeled.”

And the store likes to see their merchandise purchased, Emma thought amusedly as she began to shuck off her clothes. It was a brilliant sales maneuver. How many customers actually pictured themselves in the gorgeous model’s shoes when they donned the dress?

She suddenly wished she’d put on a fancier bra and underwear set when she’d set out on what she thought would be a solitary, run-of-the-mill trip downtown this morning. Little had she guessed her solo trip to Macy’s would end up like this.

“Oh my goodness,” Sophia said, eyes going wide as she turned from hanging some dresses on a rack. At the woman’s exclamation, Emma cringed where she stood in her bra and underwear. Were her undergarments that bad? Then she realized where the woman stared and her hand flew to her throat. “Is that a Prisatti angel?” Sophia asked, her tone hushed and thick with awe.

“I . . . I don’t know. It’s a petit ange. It was a gift,” Emma said, letting her hand fall.

Sophia met her stare, a smile starting on her mouth. “From him?” she asked, glancing sideways in the direction of the sitting room where Vanni waited.

“Yes.”

Sophia gave her a lucky you smile. “It’s a Prisatti angel. They’re extremely rare, handmade by a man named Angelo Prisatti, an Italian jeweler who lives in France. He only makes a few a year, the metalwork and etching is exquisitely detailed, even under a microscope. Prisatti insists on approving of the wearer himself. Their spirit has to match the essence of the piece he makes . . . match up to his standards, in other words. Otherwise, you’d see every spoiled rich girl in the world wearing one.”