The Secret Heiress (42 page)

At the party, Ariadne was grateful that her new friends were in constant attendance. She successfully masqueraded as her sister without a hitch. Thanks to Nikoletta’s well-known behavior with men, no one asked Ariadne what had happened to Frans. Matt was accepted as her latest in a long series of flings. After an hour the group returned to the penthouse, and Ariadne dismissed her bodyguards.

“After you’ve left with Nikoletta,” Angelo said, “I’ll have a talk with Frans. Is that okay?”

Everyone agreed that it was. “You’ll have to keep Ariadne out of the way,” Matt said. “Frans shouldn’t see her. After I’ve left with her, what if all of you stay on the top floor at the swimming pool until Angelo’s gotten Frans out of here?”

“That’s fine with me,” Angelo said. He looked around the group. “Does that suit everyone? I shouldn’t be but a few minutes with him. Then I’ll try to get him to leave with me.”

Again, everyone agreed. “Call me on your cell when you’re leaving,” Sugar said. “Then we’ll know the coast is clear.”

“Okay,” Matt said. “Ariadne, you and Sugar had better get Nikoletta ready to leave.”

Sugar took Ariadne’s hand. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”

They found Nikoletta as they’d left her, in a deep sleep. Ariadne and Sugar quickly dressed her, cleaned her face of all makeup, and wrapped her head in a scarf. She wouldn’t be instantly recognizable by the ambulance attendants as Ariadne’s twin. Then they packed a suitcase with casual clothing that would be suitable for her future home.

As Ariadne was forced to handle her sister’s inert body, she once again suffered deep pangs of guilt, her mind in turmoil about what she was doing to her own flesh and blood, even though they’d never known each other. She had to repeatedly remind herself that what she was doing was for the greater good.

When they had properly readied Nikoletta, a private ambulance company was called, and its attendants arrived with a stretcher to take her down to the building’s garage. Matt would accompany her on the flight to the clinic in Switzerland where she would be confined.

In the entrance hall, he turned to Ariadne. “I’ll get back as quickly as possible,” he said. “In the meantime, you take care of yourself.” He gently brushed her cheek with a kiss.

“I’ll miss you,” Ariadne said.

“It won’t be long.”

She nodded. “I hope . . . I hope it goes as well as can be expected.”

“Don’t worry,” Matt replied. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll get her settled in.” He quickly kissed her again, then followed the attendants with the stretcher onto the elevator.

“Wait a minute,” Sugar called to them. She hurried into the entrance hall and onto the elevator, where she carefully arranged the sheets in such a way as to virtually hide Nikoletta’s face.

As it turned out, the garage was deserted. The attendants slid the stretcher into the back of the ambulance and locked it in place. Then Matt climbed in and sat beside Nikoletta for the ride to Teterboro Airport, where a PPHL jet was waiting to take them to Switzerland.

 

Upstairs in one of the penthouse guest rooms, Angelo Coveri sat down on the bed next to Frans. He reached over and shook him gently.

“Wh-what?” Frans asked groggily, blinking his eyes.

“Frans. It is Angelo Coveri. Bianca’s father.”

Frans instantly sat up in bed and looked at him with bleary eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you, but we only have a minute,” Angelo told him. “Why don’t you come with me to my house and stay the night there? I have a proposition for you.”

Frans listened in disbelief. “What kind of proposition? What are you talking about?”

“You loved Bianca, and she loved you,” Angelo said. “I no longer have her, but you are still here. I thought that maybe . . . well, perhaps, first . . .” He struggled to find words. “Bianca loved our place on Lake Como. Maybe you could come there with me for a while and try to get yourself back together again. Giulia, Bianca’s old nanny, is still there keeping house for me. You would have good food, a nice place to stay and call home if you like.”

“I . . . I don’t know,” Frans said, taken aback by the old man’s offer.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” Angelo said. “Maybe you could help me set up some kind of suitable memorial for Bianca.”
And maybe it would even help me,
he thought.

“I—I will come,” Frans said.

“Good,” Angelo said, standing up. “Now, let’s get out of this place. We will go to my house tonight. Tomorrow we will fetch whatever you’d like to take to Italy with you and go.” He extended a hand to Frans to help him get out of bed.

Frans took the proffered hand and rose to his feet. He was shaky, but he allowed himself to be led downstairs. As they stepped into the elevator, he said, “I am glad to be leaving this snake pit.”

“So am I,” Angelo said. “We have something in common already, young man. I think this will benefit us both.”

 

 

 

 

N
ikoletta had carefully applied makeup and fixed her hair, then put on the tightest sweater—without a bra—among the clothes that had been packed for her. Happily she discovered a pair of her favorite low-cut, formfitting jeans in the closet. She looked at her wristwatch. He should be here in less than five minutes. From the minifridge she took out the small half-liter bottle of wine. She was allowed only three glasses a day, she’d been told, and even that might be eliminated, depending on the medication she was placed on and her behavior. The bottle had a screw top—disgusting, she thought—but she unscrewed it and poured herself a glass. She savored its taste, even though it was barely drinkable as far as she was concerned.

The last two days had been the most unbearable in her life. When she had finally come to and realized what had happened, she had flown into a rage of epic proportions. To no avail. No one at the clinic believed that she was truly Nikoletta Papadaki. They accepted what they had been told. She was Ariadne Papadaki, a mentally unstable twin sister the family had long kept sequestered away in secret. The doctors did not find the situation uncommon, especially among families as rich as the Papadakis, who strove to maintain a public image of wealth combined with beauty, physical and mental health, and unstinting service to others.

The doctors at the exclusive Clinique Château-d’Oex who had witnessed their new patient’s behavior were accustomed to such outbursts. After all, they were typical of delusional paranoid schizophrenics like the unfortunate Ariadne Papadaki. The family representative who had accompanied her to the clinic, Matthew Foster, confirmed that such violent rages had become increasingly common. She had given a brilliant performance, the good doctors decided, and her outrageous accusations, incredible though they were, had been beautifully scripted and acted out. That, too, was not an uncommon characteristic of the mentally ill like Ariadne. Initially, in fact, Ariadne had proved her family’s case without any prompting whatsoever. Her behavior convinced the doctors that Ariadne was indeed very ill.

It was decided that she would be given a suite on the top floor, the seventh, where she would have a bedroom, sitting room, and bath. The balcony, with its beautiful mountain view, was constructed like a cage, so that she couldn’t throw herself off it. The windows were barred, and the mirrors were sheets of highly reflective stainless steel. Should she be determined to injure or kill herself, they agreed that she, like so many others in her sad mental state, would doubtless find a way in her luxurious apartment, but the facilities had been designed to make suicide a less accessible option. She could easily hang herself with the bedsheets, but if she proved bent on suicide, the appropriate drugs would deter her from that.

Nikoletta had quickly realized her dilemma, and after the first few hours had settled down, restraining herself from further outbursts. She would have to behave in a reasonable, “normal” fashion to convince the doctors that what she had said was true. She had been drugged and kidnapped, and her twin sister had taken her place. She realized that she had a difficult road ahead. After all, her twin sister didn’t exist, did she? Ariadne had no birth certificate, nothing to prove that she had ever lived, and now
she
—Nikoletta—was Ariadne.

Now she was waiting for Matt Foster to arrive. She was certain that she could get him into her bed and thus on her side. Had any man ever turned her down? No, not unless Frans was considered, and she didn’t care to consider Frans. He had been an aberration. A lovesick depressive unworthy of her attention.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Nikoletta got up to answer it. Opening the door, she greeted Matt.

“Hi!” she said perkily. “I’m so glad you came.”

“I wanted to see you before I leave anyway,” Matt said, not failing to observe her ample breasts. They pressed against the sweater she was wearing, outlining her nipples in bold relief.

“Come in and sit down,” Nikoletta said, indicating a chair. “I have some wine.”

“No, thanks,” Matt replied. He knew that she was allowed only a small amount, and he didn’t want to deprive her of that. While the clinic was luxurious, offering various activities for its patients, Nikoletta was going to treasure her modicum of wine, he thought.

“No?” she said. “Well, have it your way. It’s not the best anyway.” She laughed.

Nikoletta sat down on the couch, curling her legs up under her, and Matt sat in a chair opposite her, across the coffee table.

“Would you like sparkling water?” she asked. “Or soda?”

“No, thanks,” Matt replied. She was being awfully civil, he thought, and his guard immediately went up. He knew she was using her charm to entice him.

Nikoletta looked him in the eye. “Are you involved with my sister?”

Matt was startled by her question, but he decided he might as well be honest. “Yes.”

Nikoletta nodded. “I thought as much. I’d guess you were hired as her bodyguard, and you made your move when you realized that she was going to be the Papadaki heiress.”

Matt felt his face redden, and the muscles in his jaw tensed. “I was hired for security purposes,” he replied, “but my involvement with your sister had nothing to do with her being the Papadaki heiress.” He was careful not to name Ariadne in case the suite was bugged. After all, Nikoletta was known as Ariadne to the clinic personnel.

“Oh?” Nikoletta made a moue of mock surprise before her expression became harder. “Come on,” she said, “you can tell me the truth. I know your type. Don’t forget, I’ve had bodyguards all my life, and I’ve had more than a few come on to me. They all want your money and will pretend anything to get it.”

“Maybe that’s been your experience,” Matt allowed, “but you’re not describing me.”

She took a sip of wine, then set the glass down.
I might as well get to the point,
she thought. Rising to her feet, she went to his chair and kneeled down in front of him. Matt arched away as she began stroking his thighs with her hand.

“I could make you very rich,” she said. “Richer than you’ve ever dreamed of.”

“I’m not interested in your money,” Matt said, “and I’d appreciate it if you take your hands off me and go back to the couch and sit down.”

“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport,” Nikoletta purred. “Nobody would know, Matt. And I figure if you find my sister attractive, surely you must like the way I look, too. We
are
twins, after all.”

“You may look like her,” Matt said, “but you’re not your sister.”

Nikoletta quit stroking his thighs and looked up at him with curiosity. “How are we different?” she asked. “I’d like to know why she appeals to you, but I don’t.”

“I don’t have to answer your questions,” Matt said.

“No,” she agreed, “but couldn’t you do me that favor? Think about it, Matt. You’ve brought me here to this godforsaken place to lock me up. For what? The rest of my life?” She paused. “Don’t you think you could answer a simple question for me?”

“Your sister is goodness itself,” he said. “She doesn’t have a bad bone in her body. She’s kind and thoughtful and generous of spirit.”

Nikoletta began stroking him again. “I can be very generous,” she said with a lascivious smile. “And I can be good, too.”

Matt couldn’t deny that she looked beautiful—wickedly so—at this moment, and that her hands on his thighs felt . . . well, too good, too stimulating. Suddenly he was furious. With her, but also with himself. “Take your hands off me,” he said firmly. “You’re not going to get anywhere with me because I’m in love with your sister.”

“Are you so sure about that, Matt?” she asked, slowing the movement of her hands but not removing them.

“I’m positive,” he said. He took her hands in his and pushed them away, then stood up. “You’re a tramp,” he said, “only a lot worse. You’re greedy, mean, unloving, and just plain evil. I wouldn’t find you desirable no matter who you were.”