Rebecca Winters - To Marry For Duty

Signore Tozetti wouldn’t have paid us an advance to come to Spain if he didn’t believe he was going to make a bundle off you pretty soon. When he sees what you’ve done in just three days, he’ll be sending you everywhere; France— Switzerland—

Her hand tightened on the phone receiver. “You don’t become famous with a bunch of calendars.”

“Your calendars have only been a stepping stone. It’s time to branch out.”

He was starting to sound like Dr. Arnavitz. “In what way?”

“Commercial advertising over television and the Internet is hot. Think global and the sky’s the limit. Megacorporations spanning several continents pay seven and eight digit figures to the artist who can come up with the right worldwide image.”

She blinked. “How long have you been thinking this big for me?”

“Ever since I started printing the calendars for Duchesse Designs. You’ve got that touch of genius, Piper. Maybe with my help we can ignite it.”

“I like the way you think. Can you come over at seven?”

“I’ll be there with some ideas that have been percolating for a long time.”

“Did you ever tell Greer about this?”

“What do you think?”

“You’re right. That was sort of a dumb question.”

No one ever told Greer anything except Max. He’d managed to kiss her senseless on the Piccione, have her arrested and put in an Italian jail for the night, after which he’d propositioned her. It was the perfect path to her heart, and she’d ended up throwing herself at him.

Luc had operated a little differently. After breaking Olivia’s heart because of a tragic misunderstanding, he’d gotten her back to Europe on false pretenses. Then he’d locked her inside a robot-limo he’d designed and named Cog. It had so many clever inventions to break down her defenses, Olivia had practically crumbled on the spot forgiving him.

It was sickening.

Piper was happy for the four of them. She really was, but she didn’t want to think about her brothers-in-law, or she would start thinking about Nic, and that kind of thinking was disastrous.

January 26

Marbella, Spain

“Señor Pastrana?”

“Sí, Filomena?”

Nic was on the verge of leaving his office at the Banco De Iberia. Since he’d restructured its branch network, the bank had enjoyed another successful financial quarter that exceeded his expectations, but he took no joy in it.

“A gentleman is on the phone for you from Christie’s auction house in New York.” At the mere mention of New York, Nic’s pulse rate suddenly tripled. “Shall I put him through, or do you want me to take a message?”

“I’ll speak to him now.”

“Very good, Señor.”

While he waited, he closed the file on the bank’s foreign gold reserves he’d been examining and turned off the computer.

“Señor Pastrana?” an American sounding voice came over the speakerphone.

“This is he. Go ahead.”

“John Vashom here from the fine jewels department at Christie’s. Since you first alerted us, we’ve been watching for any jewelry from the Marie-Louise collection stolen from the Varano family palace in Colorno, Italy.

“This morning a jeweled comb showed up for auction by an anonymous seller. I went to our jewel loss register database and pulled out the pictures you supplied us. The piece in question appears to be a perfect match. How would you like me to proceed?”

An adrenaline rush drove Nic to his feet.

By some miracle he’d just been handed the legitimate excuse that would take him to New York, thereby getting him out of the final hellish commitment to the family of his deceased fiancée Nina Robles. The dreaded monthly duty visit wouldn’t be happening after all. Indeed, never again.

“I appreciate your quick handling of the matter, Mr. Vashom.”

“I try to do my best.”

Without conscious thought Nic pulled the black mourning band off his arm and tossed it in the wastebasket. It was a struggle for him to contain his excitement. “An agent from the CIA will be contacting you within the hour. In the meantime, hold on to the comb and say nothing to anyone.”

“You can count on me.”

Nic checked his watch. It was nine-thirty in the morning on the East Coast of the U.S. “I’m on my way to New York now. Expect me before your closing time. I’ll need your cell phone number so we can stay in touch.”

While he wrote it down, his mind made a mental list of people to call. The second they hung up, he phoned the chief investigator in Rome coordinating the efforts of the various police and undercover agents working on the case. Signore Barzini would contact the CIA in New York.

Next he called Signore Rossi, Italy’s top jewelry authenticator, and arranged for him to fly to New York from Parma in one of the Varano jets. Only he could declare if the jeweled comb was the genuine article.

The collection had belonged to the Duchess of Parma, otherwise known as Marie-Louise of Austria of the House of Bourbon, second wife of Napoleon Bonaparte. The theft of the treasure almost two years earlier had been a blow to the whole family. Since that time Nic and his cousins had been conducting an international investigation with the help of police and undercover agents.

One authenticated piece had been recovered when it turned up at a London auction last August. He’d paid a small fortune to get it back. Unfortunately there’d been no leads on the person or persons responsible for the daring jewelry heist.

Now that another part of the collection had shown up in the States, perhaps a fake, perhaps not, Nic was hopeful for a break in the case.

He rang his father but got his voice mail. After apprising him of the situation, he asked his parent to make his excuses to the Robles family for not being able to join them. Even Nic’s father would agree that the call from the auction house constituted the kind of emergency over which Nina’s parents couldn’t take exception.

The Pastrana and the Robles family shared ties through the Spanish House of Bourbon that ran deep. However if Nina’s parents believed they could foist their twenty-seven-year-old daughter Camilla on Nic as a replacement for Nina because of some ancient family custom, then they were more out of touch with reality than he’d first supposed.

After summoning his driver, Nic left the bank through his private entrance and climbed in the back of the limo. En route to the airport he phoned the pilot and told him to get the Pastrana jet ready. There was no need to stop by the villa. Nic kept a change of clothes and toiletries on board.

Euphoric to have thrown off the shackles of his bondage, he phoned Max to fill him in on everything, but he got his cousin’s voice mail as well. Frustrated not to be able to talk to him, he left a message about his plans, then called Luc who picked up on the third ring.

“Olivia and I were just about to call you. We’re sailing to Mallorca this weekend. How would you like to join us there on Sunday after you’re through with your duty visit?”

Luc sounded like a different man these days. Since his marriage to Olivia, he was beyond happy. They were expecting a baby in September. Nic had never known a more ecstatic couple except for Max and Greer who’d put in for adoption and were waiting.

“There’s nothing I’d like more, but something important has come up. I have news that can’t wait.” Within minutes he’d told him about the phone call from Christie’s.

In an instant Luc’s mood had sobered. “I’ll meet you in New York.”

“No. You and Olivia need your time alone. I’m only telling you this because I’ll be gone a while following the investigation.”

“What’s going on?”

Nic took a fortifying breath. “What if I told you the arm band is sitting in the wastebasket of my office getting ready to be tossed out with the trash in the next few minutes?”