Amy Atwell - Lying Eyes

Cosmo’s notations confirmed her worst suspicions. She dared to look at Mickey. He’d seated himself in an overstuffed chair to don his boots, but even as he tugged them on, he watched her with barely concealed expectation. He wanted her to congratulate him, she could tell from the raised brow, the badly hidden smile. It would serve him right to get a dose of reality.

“There’s no proof this crown was ever made. No one’s even sure whether these stones exist.”

“But your mother believed they were real,” he said, sitting up. “Tell me the whole story, Iris.”

Sinking onto the sofa, she ran a hand through her messy curls, her gaze fixed on the picture. Her mother’s lovely contralto voice, rich with its native Russian accent, played from her memory banks. She knew the story by rote.

“Alexandrite was first discovered when Alexander II was the prince of Russia, the son of the current czar. By the time he came to power in 1856, the original vein of alexandrite was already depleted. Count Perovskii, who helped identify this new stone and name it, gave some large stones to the Romanovs. But it’s also said that for Alexander’s coronation, a special crown was forged from rose gold and platinum then inlaid with ten alexandrite gems with a total carat weight of over a hundred carats. While the stones weren’t uniform in size or cut, they all came from one single stone, so they matched each other flawlessly in clarity and color. They belonged together, like a family.” That message sank into her today. She lifted her eyes to meet Mickey’s steady gaze.

“Was the crown worn? Displayed? Anything?”

“No one knows. Its very existence is doubtful. The story goes that the crown was commissioned, the stones were cut, but no photo archives of Alexander’s coronation show him wearing a crown that matches this description. Apparently, tradition won out over the beauty of these new gems and crown design.”

Mickey frowned. “Then where did Cosmo get this photo of the crown?”

“It’s pretty easy to doctor a photo these days, especially for a master of illusion.” Iris raised her brows at him.

Mickey cursed softly. “Any idea where the crown is today?”

She let out a controlled breath. “According to the myth, the crown no longer exists. My mother told me the Romanovs were a picky lot. When Alexander II’s grandson Nicholas took the throne, he dismantled the crown and had the gems reworked in a necklace for his wife Alexandra. The necklace was a gift to celebrate the birth of their son in 1904.”

Mickey rubbed his temples as if his head ached. “Okay. So, we’re not looking for a crown. We’re looking for a necklace.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? What the hell happened next?”

“The Bolshevik Revolution.”

He was so fucked.

Mickey opened his eyes to squint at Iris and idly wondered if she had any idea she was torturing him more with that flimsy bathrobe than with her wild stories about Russian czars and revolutionaries. He rubbed his temples some more, wishing he had that bottle of painkillers, but he’d left them in the car.

Focus. This crazy myth sounded exactly like the kind of bullshit story Cosmo would spin, but if there were any truth to it, Mickey needed to know. “Are you saying the Bolsheviks took the necklace?”

She shrugged, then thankfully smoothed out that pucker in her robe that had been granting him teasing glimpses of a rounded white breast. “According to my mom, the necklace could never be found. Alexandra was a granddaughter of Queen Victoria. As the revolution gained momentum, it’s said she sent the jewels to ten of her royal relatives throughout Europe. Years later, a small group of Russians started a search to acquire the ten gems and bring them back to their homeland.” She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “It’s rumored they belong to a powerful family in the Russian mafia.”

Mickey watched her with fascination. She’d become positively vibrant as she spoke about this myth. Clearly, she didn’t want to believe it, yet it was real to her.

“If someone owned all ten stones, with or without the necklace, would they be worth ten million dollars?”

“And then some,” she said with a laugh. “These stones were believed to be flawless examples from the first find of alexandrite. Their link to the Romanovs increases their value. To have all ten as a set, even without the necklace, would be to own history.”

His headache started to recede. At last he was on the right track. “I need those ten stones if I’m going to help Cosmo. Not the real ones, but something close enough to buy us some time. Can you help me?”

Her lips parted in surprise, and hesitation clouded those brandy eyes of hers. After a moment, they became brilliant with determination. “How soon do you need them?”

“Honestly?” He laughed. “Two nights ago.”

“Well-” She put the papers on the table and adjusted her robe as she leaned back. Finally, she met his gaze again with a sheepish grin. “Not that I’d tell this to everyone, but my mother received copies of these gems years ago. I still have them.”

“Where’d she get them?”

“Her aunt sent them to her from Russia as a special gift. Now, they’re not real alexandrites, but they should look really close to these pictures.”

Mickey’s pulse revved. He might survive this assignment after all. “And they’ll change color and everything?”

Iris nodded. “They’re treated with a chemical called vanadium that causes the color to change under different types of light.”

“Will you give them to me? I’d say lend, but if something goes wrong, I might not be able to get them back.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“I’m going to turn them over to my boss and hope like hell they buy me enough time to find Cosmo and the real gems.” The lie pricked his conscience. He really intended to use the gems to broker an introduction to Turner’s boss and capture them both. But that should still help keep her father alive. He reached for her hand. “There are risks here, Iris. These people are dangerous.”

She squeezed his fingers. “But you think you can save Cosmo?”

“Yeah.”

“Then come by my shop around ten. I’ll have the copies ready.”

Unable to stop himself, he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “You’re the gem, you know that?”

She rose, flustered by his attention. “It’s what I do.”

Stiffly, he stood. Retrieving the papers, he prepared to leave, but one thing troubled him enough to make him stop. “Iris, there are others who work for my bosses. Someone else might show up and ask for the gems. Don’t trust them.”

She awarded him a gamin smile. “Like I trust you?”

Her bright smile was a sucker punch to his gut. “Don’t even trust me,” he said soberly.

It was nine o’clock when Iris arrived at the Bellagio and let herself into Lying Eyes. She’d called Ginny to give her the morning off, and Iris intended to use the next few hours wisely.

As she did every time she entered, she took a moment to survey her empire. With the lighting dimmed, the showroom was reduced to a minor twinkle instead of the loud sparkle it normally cast. Cubic zirconias masqueraded as the finest diamonds, while chrysoberyls of all colors portrayed rubies, sapphires and emeralds. A number of the lower-valued gems played themselves-topazes, garnets, amethysts and opals.

Alexandrite was so rare she’d never attempted to display the simulated copies she had. It would be too difficult to explain to people about the history and the color-changing magic.

A soft pounding on the store’s glass door shook her from the reverie.