The Rich Shall Inherit (51 page)

She sat back behind the big oval desk, her hands clasped, assessing the man in front of her. He was of medium height, broad-shouldered yet slender, and very well dressed. He had a fine-boned Italian face with piercing dark eyes beneath heavy brows, and although he could be no more than thirty, his forehead was already furrowed and his dark hair was graying at the temples.

“As you came recommended by Monsieur Nobel,” she said to him finally, “obviously you already knew our rules.”

He nodded. “But I must confess that I’m here for more than just idle curiosity, or the need for a woman. I’m here because I’m intrigued by
you.”

“Me?” Poppy asked, surprised, adding quickly, “There’s nothing intriguing about me, Signore Malvasi. Now, do you still wish to stay, or do you prefer not to answer the questions? I quite understand if you’d rather not.”

Franco took out a cigarette, tapping it against his silver case.
“Permesso?”
he asked.

Poppy shook her head.
“You
may smoke in the salon,” she told him, “but I don’t permit it in my room. I dislike the smell of smoke.”

He nodded, replacing the cigarette in its case. “So, Madame Poppy, you are a woman of strong likes and dislikes, as well as high principles. It seems to me that for so young a woman, you know exactly what you want from life.”

She flushed; for some reason this man had sneaked under the
barriers she had so carefully erected between her and the clients. Pushing back her chair, she said angrily, “Signore Malvasi, my private life is my own and—though you are not the first to try—it stays that way. I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

“I had no intention of prying into your privacy,” he said calmly, “in fact quite the opposite. It’s your business acumen that intrigues me.”

Poppy rang a silver bell to summon the doorman. “I’m not interested in your speculations,” she replied icily. “Michel will show you to the door.”

“I had heard you were a woman of ambition,” Franco continued, ignoring the enormous bouncer who had appeared at his elbow, “and I’m here to offer you a business proposition.” He stood up with a sigh. “Of course, if you’re not interested …”

Poppy stared after him as he walked to the door. He’d touched a sensitive nerve; business was now the only thing that interested her and she was no farther on in her “career” than she had been three years ago …. “Wait, Signore Malvasi,” she called, “just a minute. I’d like to hear about your business proposition. Of course, I don’t believe that anything you have to say can be of interest to me,” she added coldly, “but I’ll hear you out.”

Franco noticed that she had cleverly put herself back in charge of the situation and he smiled. Poppy was bright as well as beautiful, and that pleased him, though if the truth were known it was because he was beguiled by her red hair and her alabaster skin and those devastating blue eyes that he’d just dreamed up his “business” idea.

“This house does very well—for a small establishment,” he told her. “I’m sure that for your partner, Netta Fosquet, that is enough, but for someone like you, Poppy, someone who knows better, who knows there is more to life”—he waved his hand around the room—“can this satisfy you?” He waited a moment but she said nothing. “I think you are a very clever young woman, Poppy Mallory,” he said, and then added slyly, “and I’ve no interest in your past. It’s your future that interests me.”

Poppy blushed, wondering nervously what he’d meant …
her past
… but this man couldn’t possibly know anything about her….

Franco leaned closer across the desk, staring directly into her eyes. “I think you can do better than this, Poppy Mallory,” he said softly,
“a lot
better than this. You are different. Just look
what you’ve created here. But you and I both know what you could really do
if money were no object.”

“Money no object,”
she whispered, mesmerized. “What are you saying?”

“My dear,” he murmured, “I am offering you the opportunity to open a house on one of the smartest streets in Paris. I’m offering you fame and fortune, Poppy. And I am personally prepared to be your backer.”

Fame and fortune
… the words hovered in the air between them, and her eyes glittered with sudden excitement …
a house of her own in Paris … the smartest street … money no object …
“And what do you ask in return?” she said, coming back to earth suddenly.

“I ask nothing except a return on my capital investment. It will be a business partnership. You will let me know your decision tomorrow, at lunch. Be at Ghiordes Restaurant at one-fifteen,” he commanded, pushing back his chair and walking to the door.

“I can’t do that …” gasped Poppy. “I never—”

“Never go out in public?” Franco smiled. “Then isn’t it time you started? How else do you expect your fame to spread?”

“Wait,” she cried as he turned the door handle,
“who are you?”

“Let’s just say I’m ‘a friend,’” he answered. And with a wave of his hand he was gone.

Ghiordes Restaurant was the most fashionable in Marseilles and Poppy was nervous. She was wearing a tailored silk dress in her usual gray and a frivolous pink hat bought that morning, with a little net veil that made her red hair look peach-colored, and her blue eyes look mysterious.

“Signore Malvasi is expecting you, madame,” the maître d’ said, escorting her fussily through the crowded tables.

Franco was sitting by the window, a bottle of champagne in a silver cooler beside him, and Poppy thought he looked very distinguished.

“How charming you look, Poppy,” he said, taking her hand, and she blushed, aware of the curious stares in their direction, wondering nervously if the other diners knew who she was.

“I took the liberty of ordering champagne,” Franco told her, “because I knew that if you came, it was because you were going to say yes. Of course, if I’m wrong, then I’ll just have to celebrate the pleasure of having lunch with you.”

She laughed. “You were right,” she admitted, “though I confess
I was up all night worrying about what to do. You see, I’m very fond of Netta, she’s my dearest friend … my only friend,” she added sadly, “apart from Luchay, that is.”

“Luchay?”

“The parrot … only to me he’s more than that. He was my savior, really, my little ray of light, sent from God….” She blushed again, aware she was revealing too much, and she had meant to be so cool, so calm, and so severe … she’d meant to keep the upper hand.

“I’m only sorry that it was Luchay who was your savior and not me,” Franco replied gallantly, “but perhaps I can be counted as the ‘second phase.”

Poppy laughed, and she realized, amazed, how rarely she laughed these days. “The only thing is,” she said suddenly, “I’m afraid to leave Netta. I’m sure she’ll get into trouble and she’ll be back on the streets in no time. And there’s another reason …” He lifted his eyebrows questioningly, but she shook her head, staring embarrassed at her plate. “I … I can’t tell you,” she murmured.

“Very well then,” he said, “Netta comes with you.”

Poppy took a sip of champagne and decided that Franco had nice eyes, very dark brown, almost black, and sort of … compelling, was the right word she supposed. And the combination of his young face and gray hair was interesting … she wondered again what he did that caused the worried furrows on his brows.

The waiter flourished their menus and Franco watched as she studied hers intently … she was so
young
, he thought, and so very vulnerable … and she was a lady. And of all things that he had possessed in his life, not one of them had been “a lady.”

She glanced up at him, smiling. “I’m starving,” she said, “aren’t you?”

“How old are you, Poppy?” he asked abruptly.

She blushed. “I’m twenty-three … today in fact. It’s my birthday.”

“Twenty-three,” he repeated,
“and
your birthday. Then it’s a double celebration.” He lifted his glass. “Happy birthday, Poppy.”

Suddenly she remembered all those other champagne-filled birthdays with her father, which now seemed light-years away. That old life was gone forever, and she was here now, having
lunch with Franco Malvasi … a businesswoman on the brink of her first big venture that would lead her to fame and fortune.

As they discussed Paris, Franco congratulated himself on being a quick thinker. He’d known there was no chance of getting close to Poppy Mallory personally because she rebuffed all men automatically; the only way had been through business. Like a lot of his best ideas, he’d dreamed it up on the spur of the moment, and he had no doubt that it would reap him his reward.

Netta polished the glasses behind the bar, glaring at Poppy doubtfully. “But who is he?” she demanded. “And how do you know you can trust him?”

“I just feel it in my bones,” Poppy said simply.

“Huh! And where have
those
feelings gotten you so far?”

“That was different,” she protested, “this has got nothing to do with
love
, it’s purely a business arrangement.”

“Is that so?” Netta asked skeptically. “You’re sure this Franco Malvasi’s not captivated by your big blue eyes? Or your reputation as the only chaste woman in the business?”

“Don’t be silly, Netta,” she replied primly, “besides, he was recommended by Jacques Nobel.”

“Nobel!”
exclaimed Netta. “Poppy, do you realize
who
you are dealing with? Nobel is one of the top men in the crime syndicate that controls the south of France!”

“But he always seems so pleasant,” Poppy said, surprised, “he’s one of our most charming and considerate clients. He can’t possibly be involved in anything really bad.”

Netta sighed. “Sometimes I don’t know whether it’s your innocence that keeps you out of trouble, or whether it gets you into it. I bet you don’t even know what the syndicate really is, do you?”

Poppy shook her head. “No, and I’m not sure that I want to,” she said firmly. “I’ll keep my innocence, Netta. I don’t care what he does, all I know is that I trust Franco Malvasi.”

Netta stared at her, exasperated. “Sure you do,” she said, “isn’t he offering you everything you want? I may not be a good businesswoman, but I am smart enough to know that he’ll expect something in return for backing you; after all, it’s going to cost him a fortune.”

“All he wants is a return on his capital investment,” Poppy repeated. “It’s my business head he admires, Netta, not my body!”

“Don’t you believe it,” Netta murmured. “Well, I can see your mind is made up, but I shall be sad to see you go.”

Poppy stared at her, astonished. “Then you’re not coming with me?”

Netta shrugged. “I like it here, my friends are here, my business is thriving. How can I leave it all for Paris when I know I’m not cut out for the big time? You’ll need smarter girls than me, Poppy, at your Paris house.”

“But Netta, I need you,”
Poppy wailed,
“don’t you see? I can’t do it by myself, I know nothing about sex! You’ve always taken care of that.”

“Then don’t you think it’s time you found out?” Netta cried, exasperated. “Just because you had one bad experience you shouldn’t let it warp your whole life. Oh, I know you’re not like me and the other girls, but you don’t even allow yourself to meet a man, let alone fall in love with one.” She sighed. “But
merde
, when you finally do, just watch the sparks fly.”

“I’m not interested in love,” Poppy replied pleadingly, “all I want is you to come with me to Paris. You’re my best friend, Netta. There’s just you and Luchay. Please?”

“Listen, little one,” Netta said, taking her by the shoulders and gazing into her eyes, “I know my place. This is where I belong.
You
are different, you’ve always been too good for the rest of us. You don’t need me this time, Poppy, you’re better off on your own. Believe me, you know all you
need
to know—it wasn’t me who made the place a success. Without you it would have been just another bawdy house. So, good luck, my friend. But remember, watch out for Franco Malvasi.”

Poppy’s things were packed and she was ready to leave. She stared somberly around the room that had been her home for three years; she had given these walls the breath of life but already they looked sad and empty, as though no one had ever lived there. Luchay fluttered nervously in his cage and she turned to soothe him. “We shall like Paris, Luchay,” she reassured him as he made anxious little throaty noises, “everything’s going to be just fine.” But her hand shook as she picked up his cage, because she was as frightened as he was—and of what she had promised to do.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Netta asked worriedly. “When you opened the house here, it was for me. But this is
different. There’ll be no going back from such a step, Poppy.
You
will always be known as a madam.”

A
madam
… the words frightened Poppy and she stared uncertainly at her friend, the girl who had taken her in, who’d cared for her and helped her without question or judgment. For a moment she wavered, but then she recalled the feeling of helplessness as she’d trudged alone from Italy to France, searching for a job, and the shock of suddenly finding that no one wanted her and she was a “nobody.” And she remembered Franco Malvasi’s dark eyes burning into hers as he’d leaned closer across her desk, saying,
“It’s your business acumen I’m interested in …”
She lifted her chin proudly. “I’m already a madam, Netta,” she said, “and I’ve decided I like it better than being a nobody. Besides,” she added with a brilliant smile, “this time I intend to make my fortune and then I’ll never be a nobody again.”

But as she sat alone on the train with frightened Luchay huddled in his cage beside her, she wondered exactly how she was going to go about it.

1903, FRANCE

Seeing Paris again brought Poppy both pain and pleasure—pain for the memories it caused, and pleasure at being once again in the world’s loveliest city. Her eyes sparkling with excitement, she took a room in a small hotel on the rue des Saints-Peres in the unfashionable Saint-Germain area, and then she checked with the Banque de Paris that the money had been deposited into a new account in her name as Franco had told her it would. It had—and the amount frightened her. It was more than the Marseilles house could have made in forty years!