The Secret Heiress

by Judith Gould

  “They were sent by one of your guests,” he replied, “so I thought it would be appropriate to use them.”

  “Well, you were wrong,” she snapped. “Get them out of here.”

  Christian, whose face had turned a bright red, quickly picked up the bowl of gardenias and whisked them out of sight.

  She heard the telephone on her desk bleat and went to answer it. “Yes, Maria,” she said, knowing that it was her secretary. She sat down behind her desk.

  “Bianca Coveri is here,” Maria replied.

  “Send her in,” Nikoletta said.

  The door to her office opened, and Bianca stepped warily into the room. Her appearance was strikingly elegant as usual, but Nikoletta didn’t miss the cautious demeanor. It contrasted significantly with the Bianca who normally swept into the office with authority and confidence.

  “Hi,” Nikoletta said. “Why don’t you have a seat.” She indicated one of the chairs facing her desk.

  “You told me that Heidi Lyons was going to be here.” The statement was almost an accusation.

  “She is,” Nikoletta replied, “but I wanted a few minutes with you alone to discuss a private issue.”

  “Then why don’t you get to the point, Niki?” Bianca said.

  “Okay,” Nikoletta said, folding her hands on the desktop and looking Bianca in the eye. “First, I want to get the obvious out of the way. The business with Frans wasn’t meant to be sexual, whether you choose to believe me or not. I went there to discuss job possibilities with him.”

  “Oh, right,” Bianca said sarcastically.

  “I don’t expect you to believe me,” Nikoletta said, “but it’s the truth. He’s good-looking and personable and could be an asset to the company. Plus he was your friend. I figured that if you kept company with him, then he had to have something on the ball besides his looks.” She paused and gazed at Bianca with a gleam in her eye. “Meaning brains, Bianca. I know you don’t suffer fools gladly.”

  “I’m flattered,” Bianca said, “but that still doesn’t account for what happened.”

  “No, but I’m getting there. I’d asked one of the waiters to make drinks for us. The three of us. I’d already had a little too much to drink, and I didn’t even notice the pills he’d put on the tray with the drinks. Frans saw those after we’d already started drinking. And I had no idea that the drinks had been spiked. I guess he thought he was doing me a favor, but he didn’t know me. You know that I’m not the type to use drugs. How the hell would I do my job?”

  Bianca knew that this was probably true. Nikoletta might get a little drunk sometimes, but she’d never heard anything connecting her with drug use. “Go on,” she said.

  “What happened is all a blur,” Nikoletta went on. “I had no intention of having sex with Frans, and we didn’t have any. We were too busy laughing.”

  “So what’s the point?” Bianca asked.

  “I’m offering you a promotion,” Nikoletta said. “A huge promotion, with a corresponding increase in salary. It would be a new position in the company. International vice president and director of Ethics and Goodwill.”

  Bianca blurted a laugh. “You are suddenly interested in ethics and goodwill?”

  Nikoletta nodded. “Yes. Nobody on the board seems to think that I’ve been listening, but they’re wrong. I can see that today’s business climate is really changing, and we have to change with it.”

  Bianca didn’t know what to believe. Was it possible that Niki—the Niki she’d known so many years—could actually be changing her mind?

  “Anyway, that’s where you come in,” Nikoletta went on. “I’d like your help. You’d be sort of a roving ambassadress of goodwill and ethics for PPHL. Helping find solutions to the problems at various facilities. Reporting back to me what the conditions are.”

  “I have to admit that I can hardly believe what I’m hearing,” Bianca said.

  “I guess what’s changed me—at least a large part of it—is that I was nearly killed by that ecoterrorist,” Nikoletta said in a small voice. She looked at Bianca with her huge, dark eyes. Bianca thought she saw tears about to spill. Is that possible? she asked herself. Niki tearful?

  “The guy who tried to murder me in St. Barth’s escaped,” Nikoletta continued, “and it makes me furious. And now that he’s on the loose, he’ll probably try again. If he doesn’t, another one will. So part of this move is for my own self-protection.”

  Bianca’s mind was reeling. She’d reluctantly come to Nikoletta’s office. In the back of her mind there still lurked the urge to tell Niki off. But now Nikoletta had stunned her with an enticing opportunity. Under ordinary circumstances, she’d jump at the chance.

  Her reverie was interrupted by Nikoletta. “So, what are your thoughts about it?”

  “I agree with you about the changes needed,” Bianca responded, “and the job sounds like it’s made for me.” She paused and looked down at her manicured fingernails. “But I’ll have to think about it.”

  “Fine,” Nikoletta said. The telephone on her desk bleated, and Nikoletta picked up the receiver. “Yes?” She listened for a moment. “Send her straight in, Maria.” She gazed at Bianca. “Heidi’s here. I think you’ll be fascinated to hear what she has to say. She knows a lot about what would lie within the scope of this position, and the possibilities are intriguing.”

  I’m already intrigued, Bianca thought. “Okay,” she said.

  Maria held the door open for Heidi, and she came into the room sketching a wave in the air. “Hi, Niki.”

  “Hi. Heidi Lyons, meet Bianca Coveri.”

  They shook hands. “I’ve heard a lot about you since I’ve been here,” Heidi said.

  Nikoletta watched as Heidi sat down in the chair next to Bianca’s. They were both very intelligent, even brilliant, she thought, but they were opposites in other ways. Bianca’s perfect grooming, fashionable clothing, and well-toned body didn’t necessarily give the impression that she was a high-powered businesswoman. Heidi was another story. She had frizzy, unkempt hair and ugly eyeglasses, and wore an unfashionable gray suit and practical, scuffed black shoes with low heels. Yet behind those ugly spectacles were steely eyes that never missed a thing. She wasn’t yet thirty, but had proved her worth time and again.

  “I’ve wanted you and Bianca to meet for some time. I’m hoping that Bianca will be our new troubleshooter. The job I described to you, Heidi.”

  “From what I’ve heard about you,” Heidi said, looking at Bianca, “you’re perfect for the job.”

  “Why don’t we go on into the dining room?” Nikoletta said. “I think Christian’s ready for us.”

  She ushered them into the next room and went to her customary chair. From it a dramatic view of Manhattan spread out below. Christian had already appeared and pulled her chair out for her. After she was seated, he performed the same service for Bianca and Heidi.

  “This is lovely,” Heidi said.

  “Yes,” Bianca agreed. “It’s really beautiful, and so much nicer than going to a restaurant.”

  “Shall I serve the wine?” Christian asked, looking at Nikoletta.

  She nodded, and he began pouring. “I hope you like a chardonnay,” she said to Heidi. “As Bianca knows, we only serve wines from our own vineyards, and this is one of them.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Heidi said brightly.

  “What do you do here at PPHL?” Bianca asked Heidi.

  “I’m a futures trader for one of PPHL’s food subsidiaries,” Heidi said.

  “Heidi scored a major coup speculating on cocoa futures.”

  “Oh, how’s that?” Bianca asked with interest.

  “Buying two percent of the world production,” Nikoletta said, “then selling it at its seventeen-year high. She made PPHL tens of millions of dollars.”

  “That’s very impressive,” Bianca said. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” Heidi said.

  Christian returned with a large tray that he set on a buffet and
began serving bowls of a salad, beginning with Nikoletta.

  “That looks delicious,” Bianca said.

  “It’s a curried lobster salad,” Nikoletta said. “I had Christian call a friend of mine in Paris to get the recipe. I stayed at their château one weekend and loved this.”

  “Oh, I’ve never seen so much lobster in my life,” Heidi said, ogling the salad with relish.

  “Well, salut,” Nikoletta said, holding her wineglass up for a toast.

  They clinked glasses and began eating, Nikoletta picking at the food carefully. She was a perpetual Atkins dieter, although she was model thin. After a few small bites, she gazed over at Bianca.

  “What do you know about chocolate?” she asked.

  “Only that it’s fattening,” Bianca said, “and that I eat too much because I love it so much.”

  Heidi and Nikoletta smiled. “I love it, too,” Heidi confessed.

  “And what about the so-called Cocoa Belt? Do you know anything about that?” Nikoletta asked.

  Bianca looked at her with questioning eyes. “Absolutely nothing,” she said.

  “Why don’t you fill her in, Heidi?” Nikoletta said.

  “Well,” Heidi began, putting down her fork and warming to the subject, “most of the world’s cocoa for chocolate production is grown in West Africa. Especially in Mali and Burkina Faso and Ivory Coast. In 1999, the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund put pressure on Ivory Coast to stop fixed pricing.”

  “So that freed up the cocoa market?” Bianca guessed.

  Heidi nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Not that the cocoa farmers were any better off afterward. No trickle-down economics there. Plus, the International Labour Organization, a UN agency, singled out Ivory Coast for child labor abuses. They estimate that around two hundred thousand children work in hazardous conditions there.”

  “That’s . . . that’s so overwhelming I can hardly conceive of it,” Bianca said.

  “Well, it’s true,” Heidi said. She took a sip of wine, then continued. “The major chocolate manufacturers have said they’ll try to certify that all their products are free of abusive child labor practices.”

  “And . . . ?” Bianca said. “Let me guess. The government in Ivory Coast won’t help implement the plan?”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that,” Nikoletta interjected after a nibble of salad. She explained that fighting between government and rebel forces had interrupted the UN’s global campaign against child labor abuse.

  “In other words,” Bianca said, “it’s a war zone.”

  “Well, let’s just say that Ivory Coast has its share of civil strife,” Nikoletta replied. “Most of those African countries do, you know.”

  “So where would I fit in the picture?” Bianca asked, although she was forming an answer to the question even as she spoke.

  “Well, if you took the job . . . ,” Nikoletta began, gazing at Bianca shrewdly, “this would be your first assignment. I know that you’ve been working very hard over the years to help put an end to child labor abuse in the garment industry—”

  “—where it’s still epidemic!” Bianca burst out passionately.

  “Maybe so. But it’s people like you in the industry who have made headway,” Nikoletta said, emphasizing the point with her fork.

  “Nikoletta and some of the other people here have told me about some of your work in the area,” Heidi chimed in, “and I think all the good you’ve done is wonderful.”

  “I like to think so,” Bianca said. She couldn’t help but feel flattered by their appreciation for her efforts in the garment industry, but she added doubtfully, “It seems like a losing battle sometimes, Niki.”

  Nikoletta shook her head. “No, Bianca,” she said, “you can’t think that way. It’s an ongoing battle. And you know what I think?”

  “What?” Bianca asked.

  “I think that if anybody can try and convince these planters and farmers in Ivory Coast to change their ways, it’s you. You’ve had some experience in this area. Besides, you’ve got the kind of . . . well, it’s charisma, really . . . that Adrian has. You can talk to people. Common people. And you can convince these planters that they should be sending their children to school instead of out into the fields with machetes.”

  Nikoletta took another nibble of her salad. She knew that she had dangled irresistible bait for Bianca, and she enjoyed waiting to see her take it. Hook, line, and sinker. She knew that this was just the kind of social injustice that Bianca was so passionate about. Her bait was taken more quickly than she’d anticipated.

  “There’s no way I can say no to this,” Bianca said excitedly, setting down her wineglass. “It’s just the sort of thing I love getting involved in, and if the job entails this kind of assignment, you’ve got me, Niki.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “I’m absolutely positive,” Bianca said enthusiastically.

  “You know that it could be dangerous,” Nikoletta responded. She quickly added, “Of course, you won’t be going alone. You’ll have a local guide by the name of . . .”

  “Moctar Yanou,” Heidi supplied. “I’ve been working on this for weeks,” she said to Bianca. “It’s such a challenge.”

  “Plus you’ll be escorted by hired guards.” Nikoletta paused and looked at Bianca. “I know you’re excited, Bianca,” she said, “but you’re really certain you want to take on something like this? Maybe you should think about it like you said. I want to make it perfectly clear that I’m not ordering you to do this.”

  Bianca shook her head emphatically. “No, no,” she replied. “I must go, Niki. Just don’t tell my father where I am until I get back.” She laughed. “You know him. He would blow a fuse.”

  Nikoletta laughed. “I know,” she said. Believe me, she thought, telling Angelo is the last thing in the world I would do.

  “When would I leave?” Bianca asked.

  “Heidi is going to give you a detailed briefing,” Nikoletta replied. “Then we’ll take it from there. Probably within a week? What do you think, Heidi?”

  “I can just tell,” Heidi said, gazing at Bianca with admiration, “you’ll soak in all the information I’ve got for you in no time. Plus, of course I’ve got everything on a laptop that you can take with you.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Bianca said.

  “Excellent,” Nikoletta said, touching Bianca’s arm with her hand. “I knew this new position was for you.”

  She folded her napkin and placed it on the left side of her plate. “Well,” she said, “do you two want to go ahead and get started? I’ve got a busy schedule today.” Before Christian came forward to help pull her chair away from the table, she twisted it sideways and rose to her feet. Bianca and Heidi quickly followed suit.

  Nikoletta placed a hand gently on Bianca’s shoulder. “If I don’t get a chance to see you again before you leave,” she said, staring into her eyes, “just remember that you can back out of this if you want to. And if you go through with it, you’ve got all of PPHL’s support behind you.”

  “I won’t back out,” Bianca said.

  “Well, I’ll see you later, then,” Nikoletta said.

  Christian ushered the guests out of the dining room. “This way,” he said, indicating a door that led directly back out into the hallway, so that they wouldn’t have to go through Nikoletta’s office.

  Nikoletta watched them leave, then went back to her office. She sat down at her desk, opened a drawer, and took out the latest issue of L’Uomo Vogue, the Italian men’s fashion magazine. On the cover, intense blue eyes staring directly into the camera as if he was taunting it, was Frans. His long dirty-blond hair was a wild mass framing his handsome face, with its prominent cheekbones, aquiline nose, and sensuous lips. She smoothed her hand over the cover and smiled. “Bye-bye, Bianca,” she whispered. “And hel-lo, Frans . . .”

  At three o’clock, Nikoletta called her secretary, Maria. “Tell Anthony to be downstairs waiting for me in fifteen min
utes,” she said. “I’m leaving early.”

  “Yes, Ms. Papadaki,” Maria replied.

  Nikoletta hung up the telephone, then placed some paperwork in her briefcase and snapped it shut. Going into the bathroom, she checked her makeup and washed her hands, then dabbed her neck with perfume. Flipping off the light, she went out and picked up her briefcase and took the elevator downstairs to meet Anthony.

  “We’re going to West Forty-second Street and Twelfth Avenue,” she told him.

  Anthony, the behemoth who served as her driver and personal bodyguard, swung the limousine out into the traffic. He knew where they were going without more specific instructions. Weaving in and out of the heavy traffic, he reached the construction site in a short time.

  “Wait for me here,” Nikoletta told him. Before her rose an extravagantly designed, three-sided titanium-and-green-tinted skyscraper. Swelling with pride as her gaze traveled its height, Nikoletta felt a surge of pleasure rush through her. The huge billboards in front proclaimed the building as the soon-to-be-completed PPHL International Headquarters.

  “Nikoletta!” a man called to her.

  Rik Persoons, the world-famous innovative Belgian architect, hurried toward her.

  “Hi, Rik,” Nikoletta said.

  “Shall we go up?” he asked, holding out a construction helmet stenciled with PAPADAKI.

  “Yes,” she said, anxious to see the progress.

  He led her to the steel girders framing the main entrance, and they began a tour that took them down into the basement and subbasements, then back up through the building to its seventieth story.

  “As you can see,” Rik told her, “we’re still ahead of schedule. Work is proceeding around the clock, and I mean twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

  Nikoletta’s eyes gleamed with a pride that bordered on megalomania. She had surveyed every nook and cranny of the building’s top three floors. Not even the ductwork had escaped her attention. These three highest floors would be the heart of her empire as well as her new home. The triplex apartment for her was going to be the largest, most expensive apartment in New York City.