Holden rose. “No. I’ve been thinking about this and as an outsider, I’ve got a more objective view.” He took a step toward Kimi and put an arm around her shoulder. He couldn’t have telegraphed more clearly that he was on her side in whatever was going down.
“Here’s the way I see it. Officially there is no mystery and no scandal. Both families have always known about each other—” He glanced at Giovanni, and Kimi had a feeling he wanted to say a thing or two but was controlling himself with an effort. “You’ve just never made a public big deal about it.
“Kimi and her mom have their lives in New York and you and your family have your lives in Italy. But, with Claudia getting married, you all decided to meet here so the women could spend more time together.”
“You mean, we already know each other? Kimi and me?”
“Yep. You’ve known each other all your lives. End of mystery. End of Brewster Peacock’s scandal.”
“But Mama—”
“I will look after Mama,” Giovanni said. “You are right. Of course. I shall go home and explain everything. I will bring her back to Paris.”
“But what if she won’t forgive you, Papa?”
He smiled sadly. “She would still come for you.”
“But Maria has a broken leg.”
“Maria will be fine. Right now your mother is needed here.”
“Won’t she be angry that you’re leaving me here alone?”
“You’re not alone. You have your fiancé.” He glanced at Kimi. “And your sister.”
She nodded. “All right.” Then Claudia turned to Holden. “Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Stop crying and fix your makeup.”
To everyone’s surprise, she laughed. “It seems you are as bossy as my father. Very well. I will dry my eyes.”
She glanced up at Kimi a little shyly. “And then I will get to know my big sister.”
Kimi felt something inside her shift. “I never had a sister.”
“When are you going to fetch your wife?” Holden asked.
Her father looked rather amused. “When would you suggest?”
“No sooner than tomorrow morning. Today, the sisters should be seen together, and you should all be together tonight at Versailles.”
She knew it was a struggle for Giovanni not to rush off immediately to his wife. She couldn’t imagine how big a shock this would be to his wife and other daughters after all this time. But, after a moment’s reflection, he agreed with Holden.
“Very well. Claudia, I believe you were planning to do some shopping.”
“Yes, lingerie.”
“Can you make time to go along with her?” he asked Kimi.
She nodded.
“Let me know when you’re ready to leave,” said Holden.
“You’re coming lingerie shopping?”
He grinned, a sudden, lethal weapon that made her knees weak when he turned it on her. “I’m crazy about lingerie. Besides, I’m your official photographer. I’ll make sure the photos of all of you as a happy family go out on the wire.”
“The wire?” Claudia asked.
“That means it can be picked up by any media outlet who subscribes to the service.” She rose on her tiptoes and kissed Holden lightly. “I owe you.”
“Let me see you in some of that lingerie and we’re even.”
THE AFTERNOON WENT better than she expected. Their father insisted on taking all of them to lunch and she chose a restaurant frequented by fashion people. Brewster would find out about the cozy family meal before they’d placed their orders.
After lunch, which included quite a few table visits during which Kimi calmly introduced her father and half sister as though she did it all the time, they left. Her father parted from them to return to his suite where he was going to phone his wife yet again.
The women went shopping, with Holden in tow. It was surprisingly fun. As she’d sensed the first time she saw her, Claudia had excellent taste.
It was difficult to remain formal and shy when you were trying on bras and panties and discussing the merits of various nightgowns for the wedding night. Before long the two were having fun together.
Holden followed them and took plenty of photos. However, he was often banished by Claudia’s modesty or his own boredom, and then he took his camera and wandered the area until the women were ready to move on.
They left one of Kimi’s favorite shops with a bulging bag for Claudia and a slightly smaller but still well-stocked bag for Kimi. She’d intended to restock her lingerie supply in Paris; she simply hadn’t, in her wildest dreams, envisioned doing so in the company of her sister.
As they exited, Holden was putting away his camera.
He looked at Claudia with an odd expression on his face and said, “Is Vladimir meeting you here?”
“No. He had a meeting with some business associates. He said it would take all day.”
“What kind of work does he do?”
“He works for an international shipping company. They have offices in Moscow, London, Paris, Tokyo and New York.”
“Cool.”
Once they’d dropped Claudia back at her hotel and arranged to meet up that evening, Holden took Kimi back to her hotel.
“You’re quiet. Are you okay?”
“I saw Vladimir when we were buying lingerie. He wasn’t in any business meeting.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was with another woman.”
“Could she have been a business associate?”
He shrugged. “Something was off about how they met. They were secretive and he looked nervous. I snapped a few shots but I’m not sure if I got anything before he dragged her off down a side street.”
“You think he saw you?”
“Hard to tell. I think he was scared of his own shadow, but maybe he saw me and panicked.
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions. Probably there’s a perfectly simple explanation.”
“Yeah.” But her heart remained heavy. She didn’t want to begin her official first day as a sister by having doubts about her sister’s choice of husband.
It hadn’t occurred to her that having more people in her family was going to mean having more people to worry about.
“I wish I wasn’t so tired. I could think more clearly if I wasn’t so tired.”
He kissed her lightly. “Go have a nap. I’m going to take a look at these photos. Find some good ones to put on the wire.”
“I was planning to invite you up for a private lingerie fashion show.”
He kissed her again, a little deeper this time. “I’ll take a rain check on that fashion show. But I’m going to want to see it, all of it, real soon.”
And he was gone.
Back in her room she flopped into the bed and dropped into a deep sleep. Two hours later she woke feeling more human. Oddly, the person she was thinking about was Claudia. If Vladimir had a girlfriend here in Paris, what was a good big sister supposed to do?
Holden had three siblings, she remembered as she rolled lazily out of bed. She’d ask him for the correct protocol. It seemed she had some how-to-be-a-good-sister lessons to learn in a hurry.
She took her time getting ready, choosing a pale-lemon bra-and-panties set from today’s shopping spree that made her look closer to naked than actually being naked. She pictured herself standing before Holden in nothing else and was very sure he’d approve.
He arrived fifteen minutes ahead of his scheduled time. He was dressed in the formal suit she’d told him to wear, but she could tell he hadn’t put much effort into the details. She’d guess he’d shoved his clothes on while simultaneously running out the door.
“You are hopeless,” she said with affection, reaching up to give him a kiss.
He returned it, but with none of his usual enthusiasm. In fact, she’d have to say his mind was miles away. Very flattering when she’d spent so much time while dressing picturing him undressing her.
“Check this out,” h
e said, taking out some photos.
“Oh, these are nice,” she said, lifting the first one, which showed her and Claudia laughing over an exquisite peignoir set. She glanced up at him. “Do you really think we look alike?”
“Like sisters. I noticed it right away. It’s the eyes, mostly. And the hair. I saw that man-tart checking you both out too. I should have guessed he was out to make trouble.”
She sighed. “Brewster’s always out to make trouble. But this time,” she said, flipping to the next photo, “he’s inadvertently done some good.”
“Keep going to the rest of the proofs.”
She did. The photos were of Claudia and Kimi bonding over silks and satins. She could see how their body language became more relaxed as the day progressed. Amazing what a photograph could reveal.
The last three pictures weren’t of her and Claudia. She recognized Vladimir immediately, and Holden was right. She could almost feel the Russian’s discomfort. He was talking intently to a woman who was out of focus. They stood close to a doorway and she had the odd notion that he was ready to drag the woman into it should anyone go by. If Holden hadn’t had a great eye and a telephoto lens, Vladimir would never have been spotted.
The woman’s features were more in focus in the second photo; in the third, both Vladimir and the woman could be seen clearly.
“Do you know her?”
She shook her head slowly. “No. I don’t know her.” She put all three pictures on the table and moved a lamp so she had extra brightness. “But there’s something familiar about her.”
“Could she be in the fashion world?”
She wrinkled her nose. “The clothes aren’t much. These are cheap mass-market jeans and a windbreaker you could get at Wal-Mart. If she’s in fashion, she’s not very high on the totem pole. I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere though.” She flipped through the photos again. “If Vladimir is attracted to Claudia, how could he risk his future for this woman? She’s completely different from Claudia. She’s not very attractive, certainly not as well groomed and she’s older. The only thing she and Vladimir have in common is that they both look Eastern European.”
Holden came close and stood looking over her shoulder. “I agree. And I don’t get a sex vibe from these two.”
“No. Do you think she could be involved in his business?”
“Maybe. But I had the same sense that I’ve seen her somewhere before. And I never get to Paris.”
“But where would we both have seen her?” She rubbed her temples. “So much has been happening lately, I can’t think straight. I picture her around models, but that’s—” She gasped.
“What?”
“I know where I’ve seen her!”
“Where?”
She crossed the room to her desk, opened the top drawer and yanked out the brown envelope of the proofs he’d taken the first day, when he’d gone behind the scenes to photograph the run through at the Opéra Garnier for Simone’s fashion show.
“I used these proofs when I was writing the article, so I looked at them a lot.”
She flipped through rapidly. Nodded. “There she is. Doesn’t that look like the same woman?”
In the photograph, the woman had a mouthful of pins and she was on her knees rapidly pinning the hem of a model’s skirt.
Holden had deliberately photographed as many of the behind-the-scenes workers as he could, which was how he had a shot of the dresser.
He brought over the photo of the woman and Vladimir.
They stared at each other. “So, what is one of Simone’s dressers doing with Claudia’s fiancé?”
“Doesn’t look like an affair.”
“No. But it does look furtive.”
“Do you think this could have something to do with the theft ring?”
“I don’t know. I think I’ll do some digging on Vladimir though. Let’s see what he and his international trading company are up to.”
She’d become so used to thinking of Holden as her photographer that she’d half forgotten his true profession. And that he could find out things about people they’d prefer remain hidden.
15
VERSAILLES, THE PALACE of Louis XIV, the Sun King, was the venue for tonight’s extravaganza.
Since the palace was about an hour’s drive out of Paris, he’d rented a car so he wouldn’t be stuck at anyone’s beck and call.
Kimi had gone there early so she could do an interview with the designer. He’d spent the day talking to Paris cops about the recent couture thefts and the intel that something big was planned for this week. He felt out of his element talking to the cops about protecting a few dresses, but to his surprise they took the prospect as seriously as they would if it was a big bank heist. He supposed, in Paris, even the cops were passionate about fashion.
As an information-sharing session it hadn’t been entirely successful. They didn’t have any insights about who was behind the thefts. The current theory pointed to a Middle Eastern ring. There were women who paid hundreds of thousands of dollars for gowns only their female relatives would ever see. Usually, they bought the gowns legitimately, Holden had seen veiled women at the fashion shows. Was there also a black-market trade?
Mandy was tracking down the possibility of insurance fraud, though that seemed unlikely. There were also a few known criminals the Paris cops had told Holden to keep an eye out for. There was also the thought that couture was to be stolen to be mass-produced cheaply elsewhere, but that hadn’t occurred with the clothing taken previously. Those pieces had never been seen again, which left a very discreet black-market trade to those who wore their clothes in private, or collectors.
Claudia’s fiancé wasn’t on any kind of watch list according to his Interpol connection, but he knew they needed to know more about the guy. Tonight was going to be a high-fashion fishing expedition.
He’d been to Versailles once, on a backpacking trip one college summer. He’d been hungover from the night before. So what he remembered of Versailles was a really bad headache and one desperate moment when he thought he might toss his cookies in the queen’s bedchamber. Definitely not one of his better moments as a tourist.
It was nice to see some of the same sights, not with a Eurail pass and limited funds, but with a decent car and in the company of some of the greatest partiers in the world. The Peugeot was slick and fast and the drive a dream. He spent it going over in his head some of the characters he’d met. Simone of the nonstop mouth and restless hands, ApplePie with the relentless media frenzy that followed them like sharks follow the scent of blood. There was that ridiculous Peacock fellow, the big-eyed, big-lipped gaunt-cheeked models, most of whom he couldn’t tell apart.
There were the big buyers, the ones who seemed more interested in being seen than in seriously purchasing a couture gown—but with the cost of the gowns in the six figures, he could understand the urge to look and not buy.
He was getting edgy. As every day passed without an attempt to steal a gown, only a few days were left for the attempt. What if there wasn’t one? Perhaps their intel was wrong, or the thieves were onto them and not going to follow through on the heist.
There were too many things he didn’t know.
Not that this was life and death, but he didn’t want to waste a week in overpriced duds he’d never wear again.
As he pulled up to Versailles, he saw that security was tight. Good. He thought it was very unlikely anything would be stolen tonight simply because the palace was crawling with every type of security: electronic surveillance cameras, plainclothes and uniformed cops and guards. Of course, the treasure was the palace itself and its contents, but only a fool would attempt to steal a gown with all this security.
However, he’d be keeping his eyes open, and his camera lens whirring. After he showed his pass, his car was inspected and he was allowed to proceed. He didn’t understand a single word the attendant said, but with some extravagant hand gestures, he was able to figure out where he was supposed to park.
He hauled out his camera bag and strode toward Versailles. He paused for a moment when he reached the grounds. They were lit so the gardens sparkled. Usually he hated formal gardens, but he had to admit this was an amazing sight. Music spilled out from somewhere and spectacularly dressed fashionistas strolled the walkways or stood in groups gossiping.
Even at a distance, he could pick out the movie stars. They seemed to have a sizzling force field surrounding them. And always lots of photographers. Fortunately, that wasn’t his beat. All he had to shoot was models. No A-list celebrities. Which suited him fine.
He hoisted his camera stuff and proceeded to the palace. As he rounded a pathway, he caught Mark Apple and Nicola Pietra in a passionate embrace. The sound of his feet on the path caused them to stiffen and Mark put up a hand. “Hey, man, can you give us a break here? It’s a private moment.”
“No problem,” he said. “I’m only here to shoot the models.”
“Okay. Sorry. You won’t believe what the paparazzi will do to get a shot of us.”
Maybe going at it in the middle of a public event isn’t your smartest idea, then. “You’re safe from me. Have a good night.”
“Yeah. You too.”
As the sounds of mouths moving hungrily on mouths reached him again, he figured some guys didn’t learn very fast. Or, maybe it depended on the temptation. If it had been Kimi in that alcove, he’d have tried to get up close and personal no matter how many cameras were hunting them down.
No doubt they were getting all heated up about finally viewing the wedding gown tomorrow night at Simone’s much-anticipated show at the opera house.
He was about to go inside, when he was stopped by a British guy he’d run into before with a telephoto so huge and powerful it could snap a private moment from miles away. The guy had no shame. “Hiya,” he said. “You seen ApplePie? They disappeared out this way.”
“Yeah. I saw them down there by the fountain. And they were alone. If you hurry you might still catch them.”
One-Click Buy: April Harlequin Blaze Page 47