Parisian Affair (11 page)

The young man cleared his throat. 'Merci
,
madame la princesse
,' he said, unable to look at her again. 'It
would give me the greatest pleasure and honor.'

Princess Karima took one of his large hands
in hers and could feel the barely perceptible tremor. She almost
laughed aloud as she placed the box in his sweaty palm and closed
his big fingers over it, then placed her free hand atop his.
'There,' she said, holding his fist tightly before patting it
several times. 'I can trust you, can't I?'

'With your life,
madame la princesse
,'
the older man said.

'And you?' she asked, shaking the younger
man's hand. 'You will guard it with your life?'

He nodded. '
Oui, madame la
princesse
.'

'Ah, very well,' she said gaily. 'Good-bye,
gentlemen.' She released her grip on the young man.

The men began backing out of the room toward
the hallway as Karima watched them, reveling in their subservience.
When they reached the hallway, the older one bowed toward her, and
the younger one followed suit. Princess Karima nodded, and they
started down the hallway.

When they were gone, Princess Karima finally
laughed aloud.

The taxi lurched to a stop in front of the
new high-rise building in the East Seventies, and Allegra handed
the driver a wad of singles. 'Keep the change,' she said, already
swinging the door open and sliding across the slick vinyl seat. The
instant her heels hit the pavement, she righted herself and made a
dash for the building's entryway.

Normally for an appointment like this, she
would have taken great care with grooming and dressing and would
have allowed plenty of time to take the trip uptown. This morning,
however, it had been a mad race to shower, put on her makeup, and
dress, and now she felt thrown together. Last night—close to four
a.m.—she'd forgotten to set her alarm after she and Todd had made
love, and she didn't wake up until around nine thirty. When she'd
dashed out the apartment door, Todd was still fast asleep, snoring
away without a care in the world. For a moment, she'd felt like
giving him a violent shake to wake him up. But as her gaze lingered
on his tousled black hair and his handsome slumbering body, her
hard feelings had softened. He looked so adorable, so defenseless,
and so . . . sexy.

The smartly uniformed doorman swung the
mirrorlike chrome and glass door open, greeting her starchily.
'Good morning, miss. How may I help you?'

'I have an appointment with Mr. Whitehead,'
Allegra replied.

'Please see the concierge, miss,' he said,
indicating the desk where she would have to be announced before
going up to Hilton Whitehead's.

Allegra crossed what seemed like an acre of
gleaming black granite before reaching the identically uniformed
concierge, who stood behind a high reception desk of highly
polished steel and more black granite. A massive bodybuilder with
bleached blond hair, he gave her a big smile.

'How may I help you?' he asked.

'Mr. Whitehead,' Allegra replied. 'I have an
appointment.'

The concierge nodded, then stared at her with
appreciative blue eyes as he phoned the apartment. Allegra, who
pretended not to notice his attention, gazed about the ultramodern
lobby. It was all glass, steel, and granite, with
leather-upholstered couches and chairs in seating areas on thick,
plush rugs. Huge floral arrangements, primarily composed of
brightly colored tropical flowers in crystal vases, decorated
coffee tables and commodes.

'Go right on up,' the concierge said. 'It's a
private elevator in the vestibule to your right. The
penthouse.'

'Thank you,' she said to the still-staring
concierge. She strode to the vestibule and found the appropriate
elevator. As she pushed the button, she caught her reflection in
the mirrored walls.
Well, not too bad,
she thought
,
considering that I got ready in record time.
The doors slid
open instantly, and she stepped in. Ascending to the sixtieth
floor, she began to feel the fluttering of butterflies in her
stomach.

Now that the moment had come, she began to
wonder anew what Hilton Whitehead could possibly want to see her
about unless it was to order a piece of jewelry. It would have to
be something very special, she thought. After all, he was one of
the country's richest men, and rather than taking a ride downtown,
he had seen to it that she came to him. It was the only thing that
made sense.

She was just beginning to do a mental
inventory of the largest and most precious gemstones she had in
stock when the elevator came to a stop and its doors slid open with
hardly a sound. She stepped out into a large vestibule in which
there was a magnificent commode covered in shagreen. A mirror above
it was covered in the same sharkskin and reflected a huge orchid
plant with its dozens of ivory blooms. At either end of the
vestibule, huge modern paintings hung on walls that appeared to be
covered with parchment. Before she got more than a glance at them,
one of the tall, ebonized double doors to the right of the commode
opened.

'Miss Sheridan?' A tall African-American man
with a black patch over one eye stood at attention in the doorway.
His hair was snow-white, and he appeared to be at least
seventy-five. He was wearing an immaculate black uniform.

'Yes,' Allegra said, holding her hand out to
be shaken.

Momentarily nonplussed—obviously few visitors
ever offered to shake his hand—the butler took it in his and shook
it. 'I'm Boyce, ma'am,' he said. 'I'll take your coat.'

'Thank you, Boyce,' she said, turning to let
him help her out of the knee-length black cashmere cape that served
as her wintertime coat for uptown business.

'If you'll follow me, please,' he said.

Allegra trailed just behind the elderly
gentleman, her eyes feasting on the large circular entrance hall.
Its walls were entirely covered in an exotic wood, and the floors
were marble. Suspended from the center of the room's high ceiling
was a large Calder mobile that hung nearly to the floor, each
element in a different bright color. All around the room, the walls
were hung with modern paintings in gilt frames. She glimpsed two
Picassos, a Leger, a Braque, and two or three others that she
couldn't see long enough to identify. Boyce opened one of a pair of
double doors, and they turned right and went down a hallway. After
walking a short distance, Boyce stopped at yet another pair of tall
double doors and knocked lightly.

'Come in,' someone called.

It's Sylvie
, Allegra thought, hearing
the unmistakable French-accented voice.

Boyce opened the door and stepped aside for
Allegra to enter. 'Thank you, Boyce,' she said.

He nodded. 'You're welcome, ma'am.'

Sylvie stood up and came around her desk to
greet Allegra. '
Bonjour, cherie
,' she chirped. 'I'm so glad
you could come this morning.' She air- kissed each of Allegra's
cheeks.

'
Bonjour
to you, too,' Allegra
replied. 'This is really some place you work at.'

'It is nice, isn't it?' Sylvie said. 'I'll
tell Mr. Whitehead you're here.'

Allegra noticed the wall of glass that faced
her, and immediately went over to it. 'My God,' she said, looking
out at the view. 'It's like being on top of the world up here. You
can see for miles.'

'Yes,' Sylvie said. 'Isn't it fabulous? All
the way past the tip of Manhattan to Staten Island, and over to
Queens and Brooklyn and Long Island. And New Jersey, of course, on
the other side.' She sat back down at her desk, where she picked up
a telephone.

'Mr. Whitehead,' Allegra, still taking in the
view, heard her say. 'Miss Sheridan is here.' After a moment, she
said, 'Okay.'

Allegra tore her eyes away from the skyline
and sat down in one of the chairs. 'I hope I'm on time,' she said.
'I overslept.'

'Oh, so you and Todd had a bit of a long
night, did you?' Sylvie said with a sly smile.

'You might say that,' Allegra replied.

'Good. Anyway, you're precisely on time.' She
looked over at Allegra. 'And you look stunning,
cherie
. No
one would ever believe you were up half the night. I adore your
necklace. Your design, unmistakably.'

'Thanks, it is,' Allegra said, her fingers
going to the necklace and adjusting it slightly. She'd worn a
simple black cashmere long-sleeved T-shirt with a matching skirt,
but the austere look was offset by the drama provided by the
necklace. It was gold, set with hundreds of tiny garnets, that
wrapped loosely about her neck and dangled like a long apple
peel.

'Did you and Jean-Pierre have a good time? I
didn't see you again after we had our talk.'

Sylvie shrugged. 'With Jean-Pierre it's
always the same. He's like a bunny, you know? But I get the feeling
that I could be an old teddy bear and it wouldn't matter. He just
goes at it like a maniac and that's that.'

They both laughed.

'Sensitive type, I see,' Allegra said.

'Ha!' Sylvie snorted derisively. 'He can be
amusing at least. And after a day of work, sometimes that is
enough.'

'Well, at least you get to work in a
beautiful place,' Allegra said, looking around. 'Does Mr. Whitehead
work here all the time?'

Sylvie shook her head. 'Oh, no,' she replied.
'This is just a little home office. The company is headquartered in
San Jose. He has another office here in New York, but he keeps this
one as a place to get things done without any distractions.'

The office door opened, and a handsome man
over six feet tall entered. He had brown hair that was just
beginning to gray and alert brown eyes. He was tan and lean, fit
for a man approaching middle age, and dressed casually in slacks
and a sweater. He smiled winningly. 'You must be Allegra,' he said,
reaching her chair in a couple of long strides.

'Yes,' she said, as she started to rise. 'I
am.'

'Don't get up,' he said, taking her hand in
his and shaking it. 'I'm Hilton Whitehead.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Whitehead,'
she said. Somehow he wasn't what she'd expected. Perhaps it was his
easy manner that surprised her, added to his casual dress and
obvious charm. But then, why shouldn't a billionaire look and act
like him? she asked herself. Nowadays, there were a lot of rich men
of the Bill Gates ilk, almost never seen dressed up, and less than
formal in manner.

'Hilton, please,' he said. He admired her
lively eyes and shiny strawberry blond hair, her pale skin and
shapely figure. She had a touch of the bohemian artist about her,
something indefinable that made her all the more desirable to
him.

Allegra nodded. She didn't fail to notice his
interest.

He eased down in a chair next to hers and
scooted around slightly so he could face her. 'You must be
wondering what I wanted to talk to you about.'

'Yes,' Allegra said. 'I have to say that I'm
very curious.'

'Well, I apologize for the secrecy,' he said.
'I'm not usually so mysterious, but in this case it seemed like the
best way to go about it.'

'Exactly what is 'it'?' Allegra asked.

'It's like this,' he said, looking her in the
eye. 'I've always thought that the jewelry pieces Sylvie's bought
from you were beautiful. Different from the stuff you usually see
in the stores. Even the best ones. They're ... unique. Like the
necklace you're wearing right now. It's like art, I guess you'd
say.'

'Thank you,' Allegra replied. 'I'll take that
as a compliment.'

'You should,' he replied. 'Anyway, Sylvie
told me all about how you're a gemologist. Says you really know
your stones.'

Allegra nodded. 'I like to think so.'

He looked at her with a serious expression.
'I need someone like you to do a job for me,' he said.

'What kind of job?' Allegra asked.

'There's an auction coming up at Dufour in
Paris. One of their Magnificent Jewels auctions.'

'I know,' she said. 'I have the catalogue at
home, but I haven't looked at it yet.'

'So you've bought there?' he asked.

'Oh, no,' she said with a laugh. 'I'm afraid
it's a little out of my league. I get the catalogues just to look
at the jewelry. To see if any of it inspires me. I also like to see
the exceptional stones when they come up. Just because they can be
so beautiful.'

He nodded thoughtfully, then looked over at
Sylvie. 'I think we've found the perfect person,' he said.

Sylvie smiled. 'I know it.'

Hilton took a deep breath and steepled his
hands together. 'Allegra, Dufour has an emerald ring coming up for
auction, and I want that ring. It is exceptionally beautiful. A
huge emerald. But it's the provenance that's really important in
this case.'

'That's often true,' Allegra said.

'Well, it is with this ring,' he said,
'because it's Princess Karima who's selling it.'

'Oh, I see,' Allegra said. 'That would
automatically make it worth a lot, considering who she is.'

'The point is,' Hilton said, 'I have to have
it. It's going to be a surprise for a lady friend of mine.'

Allegra knew it was irrational of her to feel
disappointment, but she did. Maybe it was because a ring of such
provenance was going to end up as a gift for just another rich
woman. But maybe, she told herself, it was actually jealousy
because she wasn't going to be the recipient of his largesse.

'The thing is,' he went on, 'if I bid on the
ring personally, the price will go through the roof. All they have
to do is hear my name, and dealers and fat cats all over the world
will start trying to outbid me.' He gazed into her eyes. 'You
understand what I'm talking about, of course.'