Maureen Child - The Highest Bidder

“Say it again,” he urged, pulling her closer.

“I love you. I love you.”

He bent his forehead to hers. “God, that sounds good.”

She laughed shortly and looked around at the wonder he’d created just for her. “Vance, I can’t believe you did all this….”

“Hey!” He stopped, kissed her hard and fast. “There’s one more thing. Almost forgot. If you hadn’t been early, I’d have had it here. Can’t believe I left out this part. Amazing. Woman, you completely destroy my mind whenever I’m near you.” He pushed her onto the bed again, took a step and said, “Stay right there. I’ll only be gone a minute.”

She laughed and the wonderful sound of it followed him down the hall into the great room. He swung the painting over the hearth out of the way, opened the vault hidden behind it and reached inside for the surprise he’d left to the end, just in case he needed it.

Then he was back in the bedroom and holding out a flat, black velvet case to her. “I got this for you. I didn’t know it at the time. I had my representative call in and buy it. For an investment. But I think, even my subconscious realized that it was meant for you. And for me.”

“What?” She tipped open the box, gasped and said, “Oh my God! The queen of Cadria’s necklace?” She lifted her gaze to his. “Are you crazy?”

He laughed and dropped onto the bed beside her. “Only for you, Charlie. That necklace promises a long and happy marriage. And that’s what I want. With you.”

“You are crazy,” Charlie whispered as she dragged the tip of one finger across a ruby surface. Then she carefully closed the box and looked into Vance’s eyes. “And I love you being this crazy.”

“Show me,” he said.

And she did.

Three days later at Waverly’s …

“Ms. Richardson?” Kendra said into the intercom. “There’s a call for you on line 3.”

“Who is it?”

“He claims to be Sheikh Raif Khouri of Rayas. He says to tell you it’s about the Gold Heart statue.”

Ann felt a cold chill snake along her spine. Slowly, she reached for the phone with the same enthusiasm she would have shown for grabbing a live cobra.

When she punched into the line, she said smoothly, “Hello, this is Ann Richardson.”

“Ah, Ms. Richardson, thank you for taking my call.”

“Not at all. How can I help you?” Her mouth was dry and her stomach was doing twists and spins. Nerves jangled through every part of her body, but she kept her voice steady.

“I believe I am the one who can help you.”

“In what way?”

There was a long pause and then the man on the other end of the line sighed before saying, “It is about the Gold Heart statue. What I have to say may save you and your company a great deal of embarrassment.”

“I don’t understand. Is there a problem?”

“I would think so,” he told her, voice clipped with just an undercurrent of anger and suspicion. “The statue you have in your possession is either stolen—or a fake.”

The bottom dropped out of Ann’s world. This couldn’t be true. The press surrounding the acquisition of the statue had been global. Everyone in the world knew that Waverly’s had the Gold Heart. If they were found to have obtained it illegally—or, worse yet, to have been trying to palm off a fake as the real thing …

“That’s ridiculous,” Ann said, standing up since she couldn’t sit still another minute. “My experts tell me the statue is genuine. And as for it being stolen—”

“Two of the three statues in existence are now missing,” Sheikh Raif interrupted. “One was stolen over a hundred years ago—”

“And that is the one we have.”

“So you say. But since that statue has been missing for a hundred years, it seems unlikely that Waverly’s would have found it, don’t you think?”

Ann didn’t say anything.

“The other Gold Heart,” he continued, “was stolen just weeks ago from the palace. This is the statue I believe you have now. If so, I must insist on its return to Rayas. Immediately.”

Ann dropped back into her desk chair, completely exhausted. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath and her heart was beating so fast that she was surprised it hadn’t simply flown out of her chest.

This was a nightmare.

Roark had sworn the statue was legitimate, so she knew it wasn’t a fake. Could he really have found the long-missing statue, even though it had eluded discovery for more than a century? Or had he somehow been given a stolen artifact?

“Ms. Richardson?”

“Yes, I’m here,” she said.

“I’m afraid we have a problem that we must solve. Together.”

Oh, this was a problem, she thought as she listened to the sheikh telling her exactly what his country expected of her and Waverly’s.

She had to get hold of Roark. Had to know if the statue was real and how he’d come by it. She needed the provenance to be clear and unmistakable.

Otherwise, the scandal that would break would be Waverly’s undoing. And all that she had worked for her entire adult life would come crashing down around her.

What is the history of the Gold Heart statue? Turn the page for an exclusive story by USA TODAY bestselling author Barbara Dunlop and find out . Then look for the next installment of THE HIGHEST BIDDER, EXQUISITE ACQUISITIONS , by Charlene Sands , wherever Harlequin Books are sold .

Rayas, 1762

Princess Laila Adan Bajal was about to lose her virginity. She knew it was her duty. She understood the basic mechanics of the act. And she realized that her submission would protect her country from war. The only thing she couldn’t figure out was how to stop it from happening.

Her marriage to Prince Tariq Nuri was less than three hours old. In the master chamber of the Tal Palace, a gift to the couple from her father, the king, she’d been bathed, rubbed with jasmine oil, and dressed in the finest silks by her servants, before being left alone to await the man who’d done nothing but scowl at her since they’d met three days ago.

He knew she was unwilling. He didn’t care. Why would he? She was a means to an end. She’d warm his bed, bear his children, and provide an alliance between her beloved Rayas and his neighboring country of Al-Kumain. Her father had been given a choice: provide a daughter for the warrior prince, or lose his kingdom to the marauding hordes, who had been rising up against the Ottoman Empire and terrorizing the Arabian peninsula for nearly three years.

Laila’s sister said she should be grateful that Prince Tariq was a soldier. A solider was often away from home. She wouldn’t have to suffer him every day of her life.

Alone in the massive, domed-ceiling room, Laila was restless, pacing as she tried to calm her nerves. The mosaic-tile floor was cool under her feet. White marble pillars gleamed in all four corners, while a dripping-gold chandelier glowed overhead with yellow candlelight, throwing flickering shadows on the gilded walls and the gauzy, white bed curtains.

The large door swung open behind her, and her stomach clenched to a hard pit. He was here. Her ordeal had begun.

“Your Highness?” came a soft, female voice.

Laila whirled to see her aunt Dhelal, the woman who had raised her since her mother’s assassination ten years ago. Relief flooded through her.

She allowed herself to hope that her new husband had changed his mind. Perhaps he’d sleep somewhere else, or spend the night with his comrades, sharing stories of bravery and heroism. Should he wish, he’d have no trouble finding a woman in the village that surrounded the palace.