by Judith Gould
Nikoletta was in seventh heaven.
“This cuts our time in less than half,” Adrian told a fretting Ariadne. “Less than three weeks.”
“Does this mean we should call the whole thing off?” she asked.
“Do I detect a note of hope in your question?” he asked.
“No such luck, I’m afraid. I’m into this now. I guess that’s the kind of person I am.” Ariadne smiled. The increased difficulty of the challenge appealed to her, she discovered.
“But—”
“We’ll simply have to cram a lot more learning into a lot less time, won’t we?” Ariadne said. Heaven help me, she thought. I actually had an out and didn’t take advantage of it.
Adrian studied her face for a moment. “I think we can do it, Ariadne,” he said. “I believe that more now than I ever did before. Let’s get busy. I’ve got a lot of different lessons in business for you today.”
“Business I can handle,” she said with a sparkle in her eye.
“I’ve already sent out an information packet to every important magazine and newspaper editor in New York and every major city in the States,” Zita Hadad said with pride, displaying the expensively produced folder, complete with recent photographs of the new PPHL headquarters. “And every architecture critic in the country has been sent the packet and been invited, along with some of the more important art critics.”
Nikoletta nodded. “Have all the invitations gone out?”
Zita nodded and brushed at her crew-cut black hair. “Yes, by overnight mail, and let me tell you that anybody who’s anybody has been sent one. From high society to business leaders, Hollywood stars, celebrity athletes. You name ’em, Niki, and they’ve got an invitation if they’re important.” She knocked on the desk with a huge gold ring set with a peridot to emphasize her point. “And I’ll guarantee you that ninety percent of them or more will be there because most of ’em owe me and owe me big-time.”
“Good,” Nikoletta said. She’d been closeted in her office with Lawrence Lowell, the preeminent party planner in New York, as well as most European capitals, and Zita Hadad, the head of the most powerful public relations firm in New York, hearing their reports on the celebration.
“Photographers are going to be there from every publication you can think of,” Zita added. “One, because you’re giving the party, and two, because they know that everybody who’s anybody is not going to miss it. So the publicity factor is going to be huuuuge.” She threw her hands into the air dramatically, and the big bangle bracelets on her arms clanged against one another.
“And you, Lawrence?” Nikoletta asked. “Do you have everything ready to go?”
“You bet,” Lawrence Lowell replied. “I’m pulling out all the stops just like you said, Niki. Everybody in Manhattan is going to know this party is going on unless they’re indoors with the curtains drawn.” He laughed. “There’ll be klieg lights on the Forty-second Street side and the West Side Highway, so it’ll look like a major movie premiere. Only better. A real red carpet running from the curb of Forty-second all the way into the building, with plenty of cordoned-off space for the press and photographers. They’ll be able to shoot away and ask all the questions they want to. It’ll be up to the celebrities and their PR people as to whether or not they cooperate, of course, but—”
“I’m aware of all that,” Nikoletta said impatiently, “but what about the decor? Have you got that under control? I don’t want to hear about thousands of orchids that didn’t arrive at the last minute.”
“No, no, Niki,” he said. “Not to worry. Our Galerie des Glaces is going to be the most beautiful thing anybody’s ever seen. Nothing’s going to have to be air-freighted from Kathmandu or anything like that. I showed you the drawings, right?”
“Yes, Lawrence,” Nikoletta said. “I’ve seen the drawings a dozen times.”
“Well, I’ve lined up everything, and it’s all ready to go. Huge arrangements for the lobby, all the bars, the tables, and so on, along with a zillion potted trees and flowers. The lobby and atrium and all the mezzanines are going to be beautiful. Over sixty crystal chandeliers. I’ve got the uniforms lined up for the security detail, except for those working incognito, of course. Very dressy and flashy, like the drawings. It’s going to be worthy of Versailles. Just like I promised you.”
“Yes, but is everything you showed me definitely in place, ready for installation? I don’t mean flowers, of course, but everything else? There’s going to be no last-minute panic?”
“Absolutely not, Niki,” Lawrence said, crossing his heart with a hand.
“Okay,” she said. “But I’ll have your brains for breakfast if there’s a screwup. And you’ll never get work from anybody I know.”
“Understood,” Lawrence said.
“Now, what about the goody bags?” she asked.
Zita’s eyes brightened. “We’ve gotten enormous interest. Like nothing before, I don’t think. Cosmetics companies, jewelry firms, luxury purveyors of all kinds—you name it—everybody wants a piece of the action, Niki. So, we’re busy sorting through them, deciding exactly what to include in the bags. The women and the men are going to leave that party with thousands of dollars’ worth of free gifts, thank you, Nikoletta Papadaki. We’ve already selected fabulous gold compacts studded with tiny diamonds for the ladies and gold cuff links for the men, but that’s only the beginning.”
A smile crossed Nikoletta’s lips. And it doesn’t cost me a penny, she thought. All those companies want the free advertising that goes along with giving my guests expensive gifts.
“Very good, Zita,” she said. “Keep me posted. I want to know exactly what’s going in those bags.”
“I wouldn’t think of doing it otherwise,” Zita assured her, throwing her bangle-braceleted arms into the air again.
“Okay. Out. Both of you. I’ve got real work to do,” Nikoletta said. “Reports from both of you at the end of the week. Latest.”
Sugar Rosebury arrived at Adrian’s house with a treasure trove of clothes, shoes, and accessories borrowed from Nikoletta’s wardrobe—all for the Vogue shoot— and at the sight of the gorgeous display Ariadne’s eyes widened with helpless delight. She had never owned anything like the enormously expensive designer items of Nikoletta’s, and she couldn’t contain her pleasure about such luxury.
“Let’s have you try on the shoes first,” Sugar told her.
Ariadne obeyed her mentor, and struggled to get into a pair of Nikoletta’s shoes. To no avail. They were the tiniest bit too small, but impossible to wear.
“I guess you’re not Cinderella after all,” Adrian quipped.
“What will we do?” Ariadne asked in a disappointed voice.
Sugar sighed. “The shoes don’t pose much of a problem. I can easily get the same shoes or something very similar. They’re nearly all either Manolo Blahnik, Jimmy Choo, or Christian Louboutin, and I can get them in New York City.” She paused thoughtfully. “Let’s see about the clothes right away. I was certain that you would be the identical size, but now I’m not so sure.”
She removed a dress from a garment bag. “The problem with these is that they’re nearly all couture, so they’re fitted to Nikoletta’s body and hers alone. A few of them are high-end off-the-rack, but I don’t know. . . .” She studied Ariadne’s body as if for the first time. “Go try this one on, sweetie,” she said, handing her a dress. “Then we’ll have a look.”
Ariadne disappeared into the bathroom and returned in a few moments, looking downcast. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “I can’t possibly get this zipped up.”
“Let me see,” Sugar said, although she already had a strong suspicion that Ariadne was about a size larger than Nikoletta. It’s all those damned exercise classes of Nikoletta’s, she thought. That and the constant dieting. Ariadne had a beautiful figure, trim but curvaceous in the right places. Nikoletta was more toned, tighter, and almost runway thin.
She attempted closing the zipper on the dress.
“It’s a no go,” Sugar said in an irritated voice. “Maybe I could close it, but I’d risk damaging the dress.
And that wouldn’t do, believe me.”
“Is it possible to let them out?” Ariadne asked.
“The problem is, sweetie, there is nothing to let out. Like I said, nearly all of these clothes were made for Nikoletta’s body without any excess for letting out allowed.”
Ariadne waited. Now what? she wondered.
Sugar stood back and thoughtfully studied the way Ariadne looked in the dress, a fingertip poised on her lips. Finally she cleared her throat. “Sweetheart, I know this is the last thing you want to hear. A diuretic will help some, as will a corset, but we really don’t have a choice. I’m afraid you’ll have to shed about ten or fifteen pounds.”
Ariadne’s heart sank. Ten or fifteen pounds! In three weeks? That on top of everything else? Now I won’t even be able to eat. “Okay,” she said. “Somehow or other I’ll do it.”
“That’s the spirit,” Sugar said. “I suggest the Atkins Diet. Lots of protein and almost no carbs. I know the routine, believe me.”
“You really think it’ll work?”
“I’m positive. Ten or fifteen pounds off you, and we don’t have a problem.” She clapped her hands together as if dusting them off. “Now. I’m going off on a VISM, so don’t expect me back for a couple of days.”
“What’s a VISM?” Ariadne asked with curiosity.
“That,” Sugar said with a twinkle in her eye, “stands for Very Important Secret Mission. A shoe search. So wish me luck, and off I go.”
They exchanged air kisses as Nikoletta would.
“Toodle-oo!” Sugar said, waving a hand. “Be back soon.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Dutchess County, New York
It was after three a.m., and Adrian, unable to sleep, roamed the house. Passing Ariadne’s door, he noticed a strip of yellow light beneath it. He knocked quietly, lest she was asleep with the lights on.
“Come in,” she murmured.
He stepped inside and saw that she was half sitting up in bed, her hair in disarray. “Are you ill?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Just dizzy, nauseous, and weary from crash dieting and taking crash courses,” she joked weakly. “But ill? No.”
He gestured to the blueprints and glossy magazine spreads on her bed. “What on earth are you doing at this hour?”
“Becoming acquainted with Nikoletta’s office and town house in New York City,” she replied.
He took a deep breath, then went to her bedside and gathered up the blueprints.
“What are you doing?”
He balled up the huge sheets of heavy paper. “They’re useless now. So are the shelter magazine pictures. Oh, they’ll be helpful should someone bring up something about your former office or former apartment, but that’s all. With the new headquarters about to be inaugurated, Nikoletta will be moving into the penthouse triplex apartment there, and her new office will be there, of course.” He tossed the ball of paper into a wastebasket. “Sorry to have wasted your time studying these, Ariadne. Someone—me included—should have realized that and gotten the new plans for you.”
She shut her eyes and stifled a curse.
He added wryly, “Better you spend your spare time practicing Nikoletta’s signature.”
She opened her eyes and glared at him. “I have her signature down pat, for your information.”
“I know you do,” he replied with a smile. “I was only joking.”
“Oh,” she said, her features amiable again.
“What you should do is to try and get some sleep,” Adrian told her. “Tomorrow is another day, and you’re going to need all of your energy.”
“I will,” she promised.
He started to leave, but paused at the door and turned to her. “I’ve noticed that you and Matt seem to be, uh, seeing a lot of one another,” he said in a casual manner.
“Yes,” Ariadne said, her tone of voice much like his.
“I hope you . . . well, I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Absolutely,” she said, a glint in her eyes. “Besides, I am supposed to become Nikoletta, aren’t I?”
“Well, yes,” he said, momentarily nonplussed by her self-assurance. “But—”
“But nothing,” Ariadne said, brushing him off. “If I’m going be involved in this deadly masquerade as my sister, then I’m going to have to get to know a lot about men.”
Adrian gazed at her, his features perplexed. What have we wrought? “I just hope you’ll be . . . careful,” he said. “You’re not as experienced as—”
“And I need experience,” Ariadne said with a smile.
Adrian did not want to pursue this any further. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ariadne congratulated herself when Adrian left the room. She was proud of the love that she and Matt shared, and she wasn’t afraid of what Adrian or the others thought. Maybe she wasn’t as experienced as Nikoletta, but she knew what she was doing where Matt was concerned; of that, she had no doubts. She would have to tell Matt about this. Adrian or one of the others might say something to him as well, and she hoped that he would be as comfortable with their knowing as she was. They had discussed the issue and had decided not to confront Adrian or any of the others about their affair but not to deny it if asked about it. In the meantime, they’d decided to spend time together when they could.
As she fell asleep, Matt filled her thoughts. Handsome, athletic, quick-witted, mellow, and sweet Matt. She could visualize him in his walking gear, the old but clean jeans or khakis and neat polo shirts, the dusty or muddy hiking boots, depending on the weather. He was comfortable in his own skin.
She missed him tonight, but they had decided that it was best to keep up appearances to some extent. Besides which, they had been getting very little sleep. Ariadne smiled helplessly, thinking about it. When they were together, they found it impossible to resist the urge to make love and talk half the night. She giggled. Maybe I’m more like Nikoletta than I thought!
The next week Adrian spent a great deal of time tutoring her, while the others made appearances in the New York City office. There was still so much to learn.
Angelo telephoned from New York City with a most unwelcome piece of news. Adrian and Ariadne both listened to what he had to say. “We’re going to have to change our plans.”
“Why’s that?” Adrian asked.
“Nikoletta is making such a big deal out of the opening of the new headquarters that it’s going to be very difficult,” Angelo said.
“But I thought that was supposed to make it easier,” Ariadne said.
“The problem is this,” Angelo went on. “Because Nikoletta has had problems in the past with the people from Mother Earth’s Children, she’s hired three teams of ex-Secret Service agents to supplement her usual bodyguard contingent. One team for every eight-hour shift. Until the festivities are over, they will follow her everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. They’ll be checking out ladies’ rooms before she uses them, making certain they’re empty, then stationing themselves outside while Nikoletta is inside. I mean, it’s going to be as if a head of state were visiting.”
Adrian sighed. As if things aren’t difficult enough, he thought. “Getting around the usual bodyguard contingent is one thing,” he said, “but this worries me, Angelo.”
“It has me very worried,” Angelo agreed. “That’s why I called to forewarn you. We’re all going to have to be giving a lot of thought to how to work this, taking into consideration all this extra security.”
“One advantage is that the new guards won’t know Nikoletta like her usual ones,” Ariadne brought up. “So it’ll be easier to make them think that I’m actually Nikoletta.”
“Sharp lady,” Adrian said. “That’s true, and maybe will prove useful.”
“We’re going to have to play a lot of this by
ear,” Angelo said. “There’s just no choice. We’re going to have to be ready to take advantage of opportunities when and if they arise that night.”
“Well,” Adrian said, “as you find out more about the schedule of events, keep us up-to-date. Knowing Niki, she’s going to allow a few minutes here and there between events to escape the hordes of people and spend time groping her date, whoever he will be.”
“Yes,” Angelo said thoughtfully. “I’ll see what I can find out about the scheduling, that sort of thing. Anyway, I’ll keep you apprised of what I find out.”
“Talk to you soon,” Adrian said, and he hung up the telephone. “You heard him. It’s not getting any easier, is it?”
“It doesn’t sound as if it is,” she agreed.
“The security is something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” Adrian said.
“How’s that?” she asked.
“You’re not used to a constant security detail like Niki is, and it can be a little daunting to find yourself virtually living with a gang of men twenty-four hours a day.”
“I’ve had security here,” Ariadne pointed out, “and I haven’t had any problems with Matt. In fact, he’s been very good company.”
“That’s different, I’m afraid,” Adrian said. “Matt is one person, and he’s very discreet, very professional and capable. In your new situation, you’re going to have at least four at all times. Some of these guys aren’t as experienced as he is or as . . . well . . . some of them don’t know how to keep the appropriate distance, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I do,” Ariadne said, although she had a good idea.
“Well, Niki is known to have a fling now and then with one of the security men. They’re never anything serious, you understand. Just . . . quickies. Satisfying an itch, you might say. And a lot of the men are more than prepared for that.”