Romancing the jewel, p.1
Romancing the Jewel, page 1
Romancing the Jewel
by Katherine Bone
Published by esKape Press
www.eskapepress.com
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2014 KATHERINE BONE
ISBN-10:1940695465
ISBN-13: 9781940695464
Cover Art Design by For the Muse Designs
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and/or persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are the property of their respective owners and are used for reference only and not an implied endorsement.
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Dedication
This book is dedicated to the industrious and magnificent Italian Language School teachers at the Defensive Language Institute in Monterey, CA, my family, L’Italia, and my lifelong DLI friends Claudie, Margarita and Michele, Mellino and Annalisa, Bruce, et al. Godersi l’avventura!
Chapter One
“Take off the necklace.”
Gian-Paolo Montovanni, Prince of Monte Blanco, had waited months for the opportunity to stare at the obstinate woman standing in the alcove of his Italian palace ballroom. It was the final night of Carnivale, a night of celebration and dancing, the night he’d been scheduled to introduce his bride-to-be.
The woman before him, Carolina Beugre, was not that woman, however. She was a means to an end, an American jeweler. A viper with defiant green eyes that scrutinized him from behind a Carnivale mask. But her presence wasn’t what had drawn his attention in the crowd, even though that would have been enough. That distinction went to the emeralds around her throat. The copy of his mother’s necklace not only caught him off guard but also signaled a breech in decorum. By royal decree, no Montovanni heir had announced a betrothal without the necklace. And in the past twenty years, no one had seen the gems — until now — until this uncommon woman had put them on in public.
The sight of the copy dangling from Signorina Beugre’s neck rocked Gian-Paolo to his core. Perfectly faceted emeralds dipped low into her bosom, as if the gems had been created for her body alone. Her possession of the stones flaunted everything he’d lost back in his face.
His search for the original necklace, or the procurement of a replacement, had taken almost a year. He’d nearly given up hope of being able to announce his engagement until he’d discovered Carolina Beugre’s copy. Through an in depth investigation, he’d discovered that the American jeweler was suspected to be the last one known to have seen the original. Whether or not that was true, tonight he meant to get his mother’s gems back.
Gian-Paolo’s fingers twitched with expectancy as he carefully inspected Carolina Beugre. The masquerade costume he’d sent to her hotel room fit her figure flawlessly, helping her blend into the Machiavellian crowd. Just as he’d known it would. All but one thing had gone according to plan — Carolina had put on the necklace.
Mio Dio! She stared up at him now, stubbornly businesslike, alluringly seductive. Her vibrant green eyes reflected sparkling light from the chandeliers, cutting through him whenever she glanced up, as if she suspected him capable of stealing her soul. Good instincts! He had every intention of educating the hungry young woman eager to make the first sale of her career on the hazards of blackmail. If that was her intention. She’d already disobeyed the mandates of his contract. He had expected secrecy, confidentiality, not blatant disregard for business modus operandi. Now, as he inspected the blonde-haired rebel before him, he wanted to wring her little neck for exposing the gems to public view, and nearly uprooting all he’d tried to accomplish over the past year.
“Wearing the necklace was not part of our agreement.”
“Si. I mean, no, it wasn’t,” Carolina stammered. “Senore Moretti?”
“At your service.” He gave her his best royal bow, making sure not to dislodge the large mask hiding his face. He’d outbid ten other offers for the gems with an exorbitant sum to keep them from getting into the wrong hands. Before he revealed exactly who he was, he wanted to know what she was up to.
Carolina inhaled and her bosom rose, momentarily distracting him. Gian-Paolo averted his eyes, suddenly irritated with himself for noticing her tempting curves. When he regained control, his gaze returned to her face. She smiled. No novice, she. She deserved some credit. She’d expected a business meeting, not a ball, least of all meeting a prince when she’d boarded a plane to Italy. Or had she? If she’d come for money and nothing more — why had she put on the necklace?
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” she purred. Her American accent twirled about his brain, infiltrating his senses like a lover’s alluring perfume. Her full lips held his gaze. What treasures would they yield?
“Piacere.” He bowed again.
Though his investigation had schooled him on her talents and habits, this was their first face-to-face meeting. His one and only close-up examination of the woman who diabolically sought to ruin everything his family had tried earnestly to protect for the past twenty years. The magnitude of the moment wasn’t lost on him. His father had died trying to retrieve what they’d lost. Now, if he failed to crack Carolina’s façade, his future and La Princepessa’s legacy were in jeopardy.
She craned her neck and boldly met his gaze. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to find you in this crowd. I don’t speak Italian. But of course, you already know that.”
Her brow lifted. Was she looking for confirmation? He nodded, and then silently waited for her to continue. Her inquisitive eyes scanned his body by slow degrees before returning to his face.
“You should have told me you’d be wearing this particular golden-horned mask.” Was she reprimanding him — a prince? “If you had, I wouldn’t have been afraid of missing you in this crowd.”
For a woman who looked more like a paramour than an entrepreneur, she was quick and to the point, a strike in her favor, a complication for him. “I had no trouble finding you.”
“I’m pleased to hear that. What now?” Her keen eyes locked onto his.
Gian-Paolo had met his quota of gold-diggers. If Carolina Beugre intended to win him over with a good first impression, she’d failed. He’d been approached by all sorts of women more original than this American. The only thing about her that drew his interest was the emerald necklace. She was just like all the others, a woman seeking to get rich quick. And worse, in order to open an exclusive store in a posh downtown Atlanta, Georgia, district, she was using the copy of his deceased mother’s gems to do it.
“What now?”
There was only one answer. He needed the emerald necklace around her neck, even if it wasn’t his mother’s, in order to produce a fiancée for his people. Parliament had given him an ultimatum. Produce an heir or step aside by his thirtieth year. With Carolina’s copy in hand, at least he could pull off a betrothal without anyone being the wiser. The copy would buy him time to locate the original — and Carolina was the only one who knew where it was kept.
Carolina tossed her golden mane aside to caress the emerald stones around her neck, stones much like the ones he’d last seen on his tenth birthday. “What do you think of the necklace? Does it meet your expectations?”
At her invitation, his gaze slid slowly down her creamy throat to the gentle dip between her breasts. He made no note of the cut or make of the gems. He’d meticulously studied photos of them and had no doubt as to their quality and value. Nor did he take delight in Carolina’s smooth, unblemished skin. Instead, he was immediately plunged back in time to the last night he’d seen the emeralds around his mother’s neck and shouts had echoed from his mother’s bedroom. Once again, his mother’s anguished cry cut him in two as he witnessed his father struggling with another man, and inevitably, his father’s collapse.
Carolina touched his arm, quickly dissolving the memory. “Are you all right, Senore Moretti?”
Madre Dio! He jerked his arm back instantly. Odd, how her touch, her voice, broke him away from the horror with little effort. He fisted his hands and inhaled a stabilizing breath. “The necklace, if you please, signorina,” he said, his voice huskier than he intended.
Carolina scanned the room furtively. Her neatly groomed nails played sensually with the stones, driving him wild with irritation — and need. What would those nimble fingers do to his anatomy?
Her next words shuttered those fanciful thoughts. “Your note said you wanted to conduct our business here.” She fingered her gown’s waistline and glanced the ballroom. “While I doubt the wisdom of that decision, I passed so many party goers coming in I began to fear I would never find you. I also worried I might lose the necklace in the crowd. Putting on the necklace
“But of course.” He snapped his fingers. “The necklace, if you please.”
Did she think he was an idiot? The emeralds had only been in jeopardy once she put them on. Tonight, in keeping with centuries old tradition, everyone thought the necklace would go to either the daughter of a Swedish aristocrat or a Grecian debutante. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. Both women had impressive lineages and tonight’s proposal would secure the Montovanni dynasty. As the last living Montovanni, he needed an heir, not a love match. His heart would never be part of the bargain.
Carolina’s eyes darted about the room. Her enthusiasm for the palace’s grandeur set his nerves on edge. Had she come to revel in the luxury of the palace instead of being prepared to do business, or was she more like his other guests — seeking pleasure?
“Forgive my impatience, signorina. I’m a very busy man.”
“Certainly.” She glanced around them nervously.
She stood in the priceless Renaissance gown — scarlet wool over a linen underskirt. Her figure displayed to his, and everyone else’s, advantage. The gold trimmed bright red bodice dipped low enough to reveal the tops of her breasts in a brazen show surely meant to tease. His plan had been to ensure she blended in with the European crowd. Now he knew that had been an impossible hope. Even without the necklace, Carolina Beugre ruined his plans by standing out like a shining piece of gold soliciting a tax collector’s envy.
He’d carefully planned every detail. Hadn’t he? What had he been thinking? She made it nearly impossible to finalize their business dressed as she was. And now that she wore the necklace in public, anonymity was no longer an option.
Carolina silently regarded him. What thoughts flit through her conniving mind? Was she going to blackmail him? Ask for more money?
“Would you like me to assist you?”
“No, that isn’t necessary.”
Green iridescent pools shimmered behind the gold flecked, half-faced mask. What did he see in her eyes? Timidity? Fear? No… fierce determination.
“I’d rather remove them myself — in private.”
An image of the two of them, limbs intertwined, invaded Gian-Paolo’s senses. He raised his brow. What was Carolina Beugre willing to do to get what she wanted — seduce him? A most pleasant thought. He’d been attracted to her from the moment he’d first seen her milling through the crowd.
“Va bene,” he agreed. “There will be plenty of privacy in my office.” He reached for the necklace but she brushed his hand away.
“Not until I get what I came for.”
Her stubbornness grated his nerves. He didn’t have time for this. But what more could he do without causing a scene?
Still as the statue of Minerva looming behind her, Carolina appeared dynamic in the candlelight, a goddess unmatched. The pearlescent brooch at the top of her Machiavellian mask, heightened with a spray of gray feathers, accentuated her lively verdant eyes and golden mane. Hers was the face and body destined for great things, though she’d been denied them since her mother abandoned her as a young girl and her father had escaped into a bottle. Countless hours studying her background had revealed she’d come from humble beginnings. In person, however, she stood before him, the caterpillar successfully born of its cocoon. The beautiful butterfly with wings spread, soaring high beyond the boundaries of her known world. To get what she wanted, she’d set her sights on buying a jewelry shop on Lenox Square. She was here to sell the necklace to finance that endeavor. Wasn’t she? Or was there more to Carolina than he supposed?
Gian-Paolo inhaled deeply. He had no time for this. He needed a wife. He had a province to run, a scandal to keep from leaking to the paparazzi, and it didn’t matter how it was done. Duty ruled his actions. And he would do anything to protect his father’s throne, damn him, including marrying Carolina Beugre — if that’s what it took.
The clock began to chime. His announcement would have to be made soon. “Come.”
Carolina sprang to life but still held her ground. “Now that you’ve seen the twenty karats up close, what do you think of my craftsmanship?”
What did he think? She didn’t really want to know. The necklace was the bane of his existence. She was unbelievably perfect. “I’ll inspect the gems in my office.”
“I believe you’ll be pleased. Each gem has been faceted to perfection.”
He doubted it. No one and nothing was perfect, especially a woman. Inside him, a fiery cauldron of duty, fury, and tradition burned. The only thing that would please him more than holding off parliament would be holding his mother’s necklace in his hands and honoring his father’s memory.
“The clarity is rare.” Her eyes sparkled like the gems she discussed. “Not nearly as rare as the Columbian original—”
“The original?” Now she’d caught his undivided attention.
“Yes. You knew this was a copy of an heirloom piece. I made that clear when you made your offer.”
“Where’s the copy now?” His mind and body were tuned to her every move.
Light reflected off the stones tapering toward her cleavage where the largest gem, a seven-karat teardrop, dangled at just the right tempting place. Nervously, she tapped her finger directly down the center of her bosom, dooming him to oblivion.
“I’d like to see the original.”
Her words came out in a rush. “That’s impossible.”
Impossibile! Nothing was impossible to Gian-Paolo Montovanni! His eyes angled downward toward the stones resting on her creamy flesh, rising plump and full with every tense breath. He’d hit a nerve. Mio Dio! She was hiding something.
“Why would you want to see the original?” Her eyes darkened with suspicion. “These stones are every bit as genuine. You haven’t changed your mind?”
No, he hadn’t changed his mind. And yes, he liked what he saw, though not in the way she expected. In fact, after meeting Caroline Beugre, he was more inclined to deviate from his plans. No one could sway him from his purpose, securing the gems and discovering the location of the original necklace. Not parliament. Not this tiny American woman. A game was not won without sacrifice. And mio Dio, he was prepared to make a few of his own.
“You’re very tempting.”
He longed to feel her pulse flutter beneath his lips. His fingers itched to touch where the faceted gems dipped between her breasts. Carolina was a delectable feast for the eyes, the prize he’d searched the globe for and found. He couldn’t remember ever being attracted to another woman as much as he was drawn to her. Why? Was it because she was the only woman in the world that had something he wanted? Or was it more? Basta! It made no difference. Emeralds had never looked more enticing — and he’d seen his share.
Gian-Paolo cleared his throat. He hated himself for being so easily drawn to the seductress and loathed the direction of his thoughts. “Remove the necklace.”
Carolina’s eyes narrowed. “But your office. I thought you just said we were going there.”
“I’ve changed my mind. Pressing business demands my attention. If you remove the gems quickly, you’ll get paid that much faster. Money is what you came for, isn’t it?”
Distrust sparked through the eyeholes in her mask, instantly captivating him like brilliant stars shining in the Italian night sky above him as a child.
“Are you displeased?”
Mio Dio, what was going on in her American head?
“Have I done something wrong? I put on the necklace because I was afraid I would lose it in the crowd. I assure you, I studied the original gems in great detail. There’s no reason for you to doubt this is an exact replica.”
“That’s highly improbable,” he said, hoping his boast would lead her to reveal more about the location of his mother’s necklace. “The original hasn’t been seen for twenty years.”
“But I have seen it. I’ve even worn it.”
His gaze slid to her neckline, imagining his mother’s gems touching her flesh. Carolina placed her hand on his forearm. It was a rare occasion that a woman didn’t want to touch him. Accustomed to the attention, he’d rarely reacted with anything more than a sideways glance. Once again, he jerked free. Why did this common woman ignite every fiber of his being? Carolina Beugre was entirely too independent. She couldn’t follow orders. She was a talented artist who’d built a bridge to what he wanted most. And yet, her electric heat penetrated his sleeve, making him more aware of himself as a man than as the provincial pawn willing to do anything to solidify rights to his throne.
