by Marina Myles
Olivia leaned toward her and whispered, “Maybe Patrick is here to give you something. After all, he’s been trying to court you. And it is your birthday!”
“Do you think so?” Rose whispered back.
Patrick had been charmingly persistent in his affections, but there was her curse to consider. What’s more, she wasn’t sure how she felt about any man besides Dragomir Starkov after their intriguing encounter.
Olivia took her by the hand and steered her deeper into the room.
“There she is!” Patrick beamed. He strode closer and took her by the shoulders. “We were worried sick.”
“Because of the curse?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said.
Damn my Aunt Morvina. As much as Rose tried to forget—even debunk—the spell the woman had doomed her with, it caused her to live in constant fear.
“Where were you?” Patrick asked.
“Olivia wanted to treat me to dinner on my birthday,” she lied. “After supper, I ran into an old school friend. We were catching up . . .”
Olivia shot her a startled look at the fib.
“It isn’t the wisest choice to roam New York City at night,” he reminded her gently. “But, nonetheless, you’re safe.”
Patrick was kind, considerate, and handsome in a fair-haired, boyish sort of way. Yet his good looks paled compared to Dragomir’s mysterious aura at the moment. The more Rose thought about how she’d flirted with the magician and how kind the Marconis had always been to her, guilt stabbed at her conscience. She hung her head and dove into the truth. “Olivia and I didn’t go to dinner this evening.”
“Where did you go, cara?” Mr. Marconi asked.
She sucked in a deep breath. “We went to a magic show.”
“I beg your pardon?” Patrick’s face twisted with confusion.
Rose should have known he wouldn’t understand. He shared little of what she considered interesting: literature, the arts, and anything remotely mystifying. Still, she spread her hands apart in an effort to explain. “It’s my birthday—and magic is something I’ve always been fascinated with.”
Anthony scowled at her from beneath thick brows. Stuffing his fingers inside the small pockets of his vest and puffing out his burly chest, he said, “You wasted your time and money on seeing a charlatan . . . a crackpot?”
The question infuriated Rose. “Dragomir Starkov is no crackpot. He’s a genius who performs spellbinding illusions. Just when you think you have his tricks figured out, he spins them around in the end.”
From the look of distaste on Patrick and Anthony’s faces, she knew she’d said too much. A moment later, Patrick urged her to sit. “It’s no matter,” he said. “I, for one, am glad you enjoyed yourself on your birthday.” When he took her hands, she noticed that his were clammy. “Rose, you’re probably wondering why I’m here at such a late hour.”
She nodded. Please don’t ask me if you can court me. I don’t know how I’ll respond.
“Everyone has had the opportunity to give you your birthday gift, except me. I want to give you something special.”
Rose’s heart dropped. “Something . . . special?”
She swallowed hard as Patrick stood up. Elena plucked a flat, black box off the parlor table and handed it to him. In turn, he presented it to Rose.
“Rose Emily Carlisle,” Patrick began.
Rose’s pulse pounded like a bass drum.
“Will you accept this necklace as a token of my affection?” His moss-green eyes glimmered with hope before he opened the box to reveal a ruby necklace. The main, oval-shaped jewel was tiny and hung on a flimsy gold chain.
Although Rose was relieved that Patrick hadn’t asked her anything more monumental, her mouth went dry. He was the best man she had ever known and she’d grown extremely fond of him. But tonight, when Dragomir stood before her, an icon of passion and mystery, she knew she longed for more of those sensations.
However, she told herself, this is just a birthday gift—not a marriage proposal.
“It’s beautiful,” she finally said. “Of course I’ll accept your gift, Patrick.”
Beaming like a boy who’d gotten the pony he always longed for, Patrick fastened the necklace around Rose’s neck. She could feel its weight against the amulet hidden beneath her blouse. She tensed.
“I saved up to buy you this,” he admitted, “and I’m glad I did. It looks stunning on you.”
Rose embraced him. After she pulled away, he took her into the hallway, where they could talk in private.
“You seemed uneasy in there,” he said.
Rose reached up and brushed back a lock of his blond hair. “I’m sorry. The magic show seemed so real that it threw me for a loop.”
“I nearly asked you to be my girl a minute ago.”
Her face went red. She didn’t respond.
“Would that have been so horrible?”
“Patrick. I can’t make any solid commitments until I’m free and clear of my curse. Besides, I can’t blame any man for hesitating to court me—considering my spell.”
He looked nonplussed. “I know you’re terrified, but the more I think about it, your curse must be nonsense. How can there be validity to a prophecy made by an old woman who went to a tarot card reader?”
“This is my Aunt Morvina we’re talking about!” Rose cried. “When my parents overlooked inviting her to my christening, she went to a tarot card reader who was also a witch. The witch cast a curse over me on Morvina’s behalf—”
“—and she doomed you to meet with a terrible accident on your twenty-first birthday.” Patrick paused. “I know the story by heart, Rose. Morvina made an unexpected appearance at your christening and terrified everyone with the news.”
She stiffened.
“I know you believe in this spell whole-heartedly,” he added.
“How can I not?” she cried. In fact, Rose could think of little else except her impending destiny. Dying at the tender age of twenty-one would mean she’d be cheated of any future. Perhaps that’s why she was drawn to magic. It was her only hope for reversing her fate.
“I’ve lived in fear of the prophecy ever since Elena informed me of it,” she went on. “Now I only have a year to live.”
Patrick squeezed her hand.
“I dream that Aunt Morvina creeps into my bedroom and kills me in my sleep,” she said in horror.
“Do you even know what the woman looks like?” He tried to draw out a smile.
“I’ve only seen one photograph of Morvina and she’s gnarled and hideous. According to Elena, she cast herself from society when she developed crippling arthritis.” Rose grimaced. As far as anyone knew, Morvina had become a recluse . . . a spinster wallowing in self-pity.
“But what does she have against you?” Patrick argued.
“I really don’t know.”
Patrick gave a shudder, yet he managed to say, “Not to worry.” He stroked her cheek and then gathered her to him. “I’m going to protect you from that horrible aunt of yours. And when I’m promoted to detective, I’ll make a more respectable suitor. Maybe you’ll have me then.”
She lifted her head and stared into his sincere expression. He looked so hopeful. Dear Patrick. She couldn’t help but adore him.
“Nothing would make me happier than winning your heart,” he said.
“I come with a lot of complications,” she whispered.
“None that we can’t work out.” He smiled.
“We’ll see,” Rose murmured. She didn’t want to think of her curse anymore tonight. Nor did she want to see more disappointment on Patrick’s face.
They stepped away from each other as the Marconi family called them to the dining room for a late-night snack. As the small group chattered away into the wee hours of the morning, Olivia stole Rose away for a moment. They huddled at the base of the staircase while Olivia handed her something. It was a tiny music box, inlaid with African violets.
“You’re a dear, Olivia, but you sh
ouldn’t have,” Rose said.
“It’s not from me, silly. It’s from that magician.”
Puzzled, Rose opened it, then wound it. It played her favorite Mozart melody.
Goosebumps sprang up on her arms as she held the music box under the gas lamp on the wall.
She turned it over and studied the inscription on its underside.
Happy birthday, Rose. I count the hours until we meet again ~ Dragomir.
“Where did this come from?” Rose’s cheeks warmed.
“It was lying on your bed just now,” Olivia replied. “I went upstairs to grab a shawl and I saw it.”
Alarm and excitement swept through Rose. “Dragomir Starkov was in my home?”
“Apparently. There is something very frightening about that man. How does he know where you live?”
Rose shook her head, as if in a daze.
“From the look in his eyes,” Olivia continued, “he wants to make you his—at any cost. I don’t trust him, and neither should you.”
Rose lowered her voice. “Olivia, I don’t think I can stay away from him.”
“You have to!”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think he hypnotized me tonight. It’s as though I’m at his beck and call.”
“That’s nonsense,” Olivia said firmly. Pausing, she looked around the foyer. “No one else saw the music box. Do you want me to dispose of it?”
“No!” Rose clutched the memento to her chest.
“Very well. Do as you please. But I think you’re making a mistake.”
Olivia stormed off, leaving Rose alone in the dim foyer. Do I dare go back to the Sunshine Theater?
Strangely, she didn’t feel as if she had a choice.
CHAPTER 4
Rose re-traced her steps to the theater the next night. She could hardly wait to see Dragomir Starkov again. Unfortunately, she’d been forced to lie in order to get out of the house.
I’m supposed to be visiting Widow Greenburg, she considered during the streetcar ride. Rose felt guilty, but she couldn’t stand missing out on anything. In fact, she’d always been curious to a fault. From the time she peeked into her schoolmaster’s grade book, to the time her adoptive father caught her opening her largest Christmas gift late at night, her inquisitiveness had gotten her into trouble more than once.
As she strode up to the façade of the Sunshine Theater, her mind wandered to the trick the illusionist had performed on her. One minute she was levitating, the next she was inside that musty cabinet. And she had no idea how the ruse was accomplished.
Shaking her head, Rose purchased a ticket and ducked inside the venue. Maybe it hadn’t been a trick. Maybe, just maybe, it had been magic in its purest form.
She took her seat in the last row of the auditorium and watched the other seats fill up. Both shows she’d attended were standing room only, so it seemed Mr. Starkov was doing very well professionally. Still, the rumors flying around about him were sinister. More and more, people were claiming he drew his powers from black magic.
Ominous music threaded throughout the theater. Suddenly, Rose wished Olivia had accompanied her. While the chatter subsided, she envisioned the marquee poster she’d passed in the lobby. It bore Dragomir’s captivating image, complete with his piercing blue-green eyes, wavy brown hair, and sensual mouth topped by a thin mustache.
The tagline she’d read on the poster replayed in her mind: I have one secret that explains everything I do. I challenge you to discover it.
Rose could almost feel the magician’s warm breath on her face. Her heart fluttered. The curtains parted and a sense of danger replaced her girlish excitement. She nearly rushed out of the theater—until Dragomir appeared.
She slouched in her seat as she watched his first few tricks. Nervously, she rubbed her fingertips over the necklace Patrick had given her. Her thoughts turned to the Egyptian amulet resting beneath her blouse and her cheeks grew hot to the touch.
Dragomir performed an hour’s worth of amazing conjures—enough to convince Rose that he was capable of sending a compelling force her way. The hold he had over her frightened and thrilled her at the same time. And as the show came to an end, she found herself wanting to lock eyes with his dark gaze again.
Rose leaned forward in her seat, her pulse pounding wildly. Dapper in his impeccably-cut tuxedo and well-oiled hairstyle, Dragomir was about to perform his final illusion. The gaslights flickered. The entire audience sat motionless.
In preparation, the magician removed his black tuxedo jacket, giving Rose a view of his broad shoulders and slim waist. “Ladies and gentleman,” he said in his trademark Romanian accent. “As many of you may know, I always close my show with my grandest illusion. But what you may not know is that I enjoy doing the unexpected. Tonight I’d like to perform something with the help of an unsuspecting audience member. This illusion has been inspired by my fascination with the human body—which we all agree is a material substance. But in my world, it’s a substance that can be transcended.”
The magician paused, his eyes darting around the hushed theater. “I call this illusion the ‘bait and switch.’ ”
Rose grasped the arms of her seat tightly.
“As I said, I need a volunteer for this trick. A female volunteer.” Half a dozen hands shot up at Dragomir’s request. Meanwhile, Rose forced herself to relax in her seat. There was no way the illusionist could know she was here.
He continued to peer at the audience. Silence enveloped the auditorium as Rose clutched the arms of her seat. Will I be disappointed if he doesn’t call my name?
“I sense that a friend of mine is in attendance tonight. A rare beauty by the name of Rose Carlisle.”
Rose gasped. How did he know?
Dragomir moved forward. “I see you in the back row, Rose. Will you please join me onstage?”
Although she was incredibly nervous, she stood and made her way down the dipping center aisle. Meanwhile, the audience applauded politely. Trance-like, she took his hand once she reached the stage and followed him to a cage with metal bars, situated at stage left.
The sultry illusionist put his lips to her ear before they turned to face the audience. “It’s wonderful to see you again.” She enjoyed a surge of anticipation. Then she glanced at Dragomir’s intriguing profile. He was even more dashing than she remembered. His chiseled cheekbones created intricate curves on his otherwise smooth face, while an incredible set of curled lashes fringed the pools of his eyes. And the way his mustache set off his full lips nearly made her giddy.
Everything about him oozed elegance and sophistication. She felt like moldable clay in his able hands . . . willing to do whatever he asked. And she admitted to herself that he would intrigue her until the day the world stopped spinning.
“Rose, would you please step into the cage? And no, I will not keep you there to be gawked at like a zoo animal. You’re much too lovely for that.”
Only a mild stream of laughter rippled through the theater. There seemed to be a tension in the air that could be cut with a knife. Rose suspected that tension harkened back to the belief that Dragomir the Magnificent’s illusions were becoming increasingly dangerous.
Before she stepped into the cage, her gaze wandered to the back of the theater. No one from the Marconi family had followed her here and Patrick was nowhere to be seen. She was all alone—and if she perished during the magic trick she’d leave behind a mystery as to her whereabouts.
Dragomir asked her a second time to step into the cage. Obediently, she lifted her skirts and cooperated. Next, the magician reached into his trouser pocket and withdrew an ornate key. He locked her inside the metal cage, then handed the key to his assistant, Katherine. The brunette gave Rose a quick sneer before Dragomir climbed onto a ladder and draped the entire cage with a large black cloth.
“Are you still there, Rose?” he asked in an authoritative voice.
“Yes, I’m here,” she assured him, as fright streamed through her veins.
“
Excellent. Now Katherine will lock me inside another cage on the opposite side of the stage.”
Rose couldn’t see anything. Therefore she had to rely on her hearing. She listened as Dragomir was being imprisoned. Then she heard Katherine drop a black cloth over his makeshift jail.
“I present to you the key that has imprisoned both participants of this magic act,” Katherine’s voice reached Rose. Rose presumed Drago’s assistant was holding the object up. “Are you all right, Miss Carlisle?”
“Yes,” she answered, certain that her voice sounded muffled behind the black cloth.
“Very good,” Katherine replied. “To let you know, Miss Carlisle, I’m placing the key inside a tin box that I will set on a table located between the two cages.” She paused. “Can you hear me, Dragomir the Magnificent?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent,” Katherine said. “On the count of three, ladies and gentlemen, I will reveal the contents of Miss Carlisle’s cage while a crew member reveals the contents of Dragomir Starkov’s cage.”
Sucking in a deep breath she cried, “One . . . two . . . three!”
Both drapes were pulled aside—proving that Rose and Dragomir had switched places! Rose’s heart drummed. She had no recollection of ever leaving her original cage, let alone journeying to the other one. The trick was nothing short of astounding.
While the crowd applauded furiously, Katherine plucked the tin box off the prop table and revealed its lack of contents. Then, smiling victoriously, Dragomir removed something from his other trouser pocket. It was the very key that had been used to lock both participants in their cages! He reached his arm through the spacious bars, put the key to the lock and freed himself. Next, he moved quickly to Rose’s cage and unlocked her door as well.
Dragomir kissed Rose’s hand before he encouraged her to take a step forward. “Ladies and gentlemen . . . the ravishing Miss Carlisle!”
She bowed sheepishly. As she accepted his hand once more, he stepped closer to her. “Meet me after the show,” he whispered. His intoxicating voice made her heady. “It would honor me.”