A Golden Betrayal Page 5

  She perched on the edge of the tub, accepting the fact that the cavalry wasn’t coming. Roark wasn’t going to call. And there was no way Raif was going to listen to reason.

  The water level in the tub continued to rise.

  Ann slipped off her shoes, sighing as she wiggled her toes. Red indents had formed on her heels and on her baby toes. She fingered her way through the expensive toiletries on the tiled ledge beside her, finding a book of matches and a tiny bottle of lavender bath oil. Her favorite.

  She unscrewed the cap, sniffing the contents. Nice.

  She poured a dollop into the water and inhaled appreciatively. The aroma was very soothing.

  She replaced the cap, set down the bottle and picked up a book of matches. She struck one, and lit the nearest candle, then another and another. The tub was nearly full, so she shut off the taps.

  Throwing caution firmly to the wind, she stripped off her jacket, moving aside one of the thick bath towels to give herself a place to hang it. She unbuttoned her blouse and shimmied out of her skirt. Then she determinedly pulled off her slip and unsnapped the wicked bra.

  As she shimmied out of her panties, her gaze caught on something under the vanity counter. A minifridge?

  She hung everything up and reached forward, polished fingernails catching on the small fridge clasp. She pulled, easing it open, revealing a row of half-size wine bottles, some imported beer, gin, vodka, scotch and some lovely little bottles of champagne.

  Oh, she was definitely worth it.

  She quickly located a crystal flute in another cabinet, pulled off the foil and wire from the bottle top and popped out the cork. It flew in the air, landing in the steaming tub, making her smile for the first time in an hour.

  Raif, she decided firmly, could darn well wait.

  She poured herself a tall glass of champagne, set it on the tile shelf and stepped into the tub, moaning softly as she eased her body down into the scented water.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Ann?”

  “I’m busy.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Ann lifted the glass of bubbly champagne and took a sip. Very nice.

  “Ann?”

  “I’m busy,” she repeated, leaning back.

  “Doing what?”

  “That is a very rude question.”

  “Were you filling the tub?”

  “Are you aware there’s a minibar in here?”

  Raif was silent for a moment. “I was not.”

  “I’m drinking champagne. It’s pretty good. They’ll charge that to the room when you check out, right?” She took another drink.

  “I imagine they will.”

  “Good.”

  “Bring it out here.”

  “No.”

  “Roark called back.”

  Right. Ann wasn’t about to fall for that. “He did not.”

  “He says he’ll bring me the statue.”

  She took a long drink, settling deeper into the tub, letting the water lap around her neck. “Go away, Raif. You’re holding me here, fine. You’re keeping me from working, fine. But can we at least be honest with each other?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon.”

  She wished she’d thought to turn off the light. “That’s when you’re letting me go?”

  “That’s when we’re meeting Roark.”

  Then she spotted a slider switch on the wall. She stretched up, moving the slider downward. The lights dimmed, then went dark. That was better.

  Candlelight flickered against the white-and-gold-tiled wall. The champagne eased its way into her bloodstream. She closed her eyes.

  “Ann?”

  “I’m ignoring you.”

  He went silent again, and she listened for retreating footsteps.

  But then his gravelly voice came through the door. “You’re impossible.”

  “I’m exhausted.” She was, both physically and mentally. It had been a very long five months. She was actually beginning to hope she did get fired. Like tearing off a Band-Aid. At least then it would all be over.

  “You have to come out sometime.”

  She knew she would. But not right now. Right now, for just a little while, she was going to hide away from her problems.

  * * *

  “Ann?” Raif repeated, lowering himself into one of two armchairs decorating the wide hallway outside the master bedroom. His mind conjured up an image of her lounging naked in the big tub, steam wafting over her golden hair, water glistening on her ivory skin.

  “Go away,” she told him again, voice muffled by the closed door.

  He knew he should do just that. But he was intrigued by her. Few men, and no women, challenged him the way she did. Well, maybe Kalila, but only lately, and only since they’d let her spend the school year in Turkey.

  “I’m not going away,” he told her.

  “Are you guarding the door?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You’re keeping me from work, Raif. You’re probably getting me fired.”

  “You’re keeping me from my family,” he countered.

  “Am I all that’s stopping you? Because, please, by all means, return to your family.”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle at her adroit response. If he set aside the circumstance, he had to admit she was an interesting conversationalist. He cleared his throat and settled into the chair. “What would you be doing?”

  “Where?”

  “At work. What would you be working on at this time of night?”

  “I’m supposed to be at an auction. Antique jewelry, very large pieces, all with an impressive provenance. Most have a European royal connection, but some have links to Hollywood and politics.”

  “Like Baron Lesley’s watch fob?” He gave a random example.

  “Or Countess Bayona’s emerald necklace. It’s the billionaire’s version of last-minute Christmas shopping.”

  Raif stretched out his legs. “I wouldn’t mind picking up something for Kalila.”

  It wouldn’t hurt to remind his cousin of the perks of her birthright. Her British college student wouldn’t be able to afford antique emeralds.

  “You want to go check it out?” asked Ann. “I could get you past security.”

  Again, Raif chuckled. “Nice try.”

  “Lot 263 is a very lovely tiara from the court of Louis XVI. I bet it would look great on Kalila. Our estimate is three million. Small change for a guy like you. In fact, I bet you can afford to buy me another bottle of this champagne.”

  Raif sat up straight. “You drank a whole bottle of champagne?”

  “They’re teeny, tiny bottles.” He heard the water slosh as she moved.

  “Ann, I can’t let you lie in there and get drunk.”

  “I don’t see how you’re going to stop me. The door’s locked.”

  As if a bathroom door lock was going to keep him out. “You’ll drown.”

  “Your concern for my safety is touching. Or is it just that you need me alive long enough to trade me for the statue?”

  “I’m not going to harm you.”

  Though that was more than Raif could say about Ann herself. Too much liquor didn’t mix well with hot bathwater.

  He heard a popping sound.

  “It’s Bollinger,” Ann announced. “Grande Année. Not something I can normally afford. So, thank you,” she rambled on. “Did you know a buyer once paid $275,000 at auction for a bottle of 1907 Heidsieck? It was shipwrecked. So there’s that provenance again. But, still, impressive, don’t you think?”

  “Impressive,” Raif agreed. “You’ll tell me if you’re getting drunk?”

  “Oh, I’m definitely getting drunk.”

  “Am I going to have to come in there and rescue you?”

  She laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a twist?”

  “I’m serious, Ann. I can’t have you guzzling champagne and slipping under the water in my hotel room.”

  “Don’t worry, Raif,” she sang. “They won’t charge yo
u with murder. You have diplomatic immunity.”

  “Maybe so. But if you stop talking, I’m coming in there.”

  “I stayed in here for some peace and quiet, not to carry on a conversation with you.”

  “Tough.”

  She went silent.

  “Ann?”

  “I’m still amongst the living.”

  More silence.

  “I can easily pick the lock.”

  “Fine,” she huffed. “What do you want me to talk about?”

  “A detailed description of the route to the place where you stashed the Gold Heart statue would be nice.”

  “Let me see... Okay. Here it is. Out the front door of the suite, down the private elevator, through the lobby, take the 60th Street exit to 3rd. Left on 3rd to 37th, through the tunnel to JFK. After that, I’m not so sure.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I do have a good sense of humor. Did you know that about me? No. Probably not. Since you’re always annoying me.” Water sloshed again as she shifted in the tub. “Ever since we met, Raif, you have been a thorn in my side.”

  “You were a thorn in my side long before we met.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. Because I stole your statue.”

  “Roark stole it. But you’re the one fencing it.”

  “You do know there’s a great, big, wide hole in your theory.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Waverly’s can’t deal in stolen property. We’d lose our license, be brought up on charges, devalue the company, get taken over by Rothschild’s. Why, oh, why do you imagine we’d be so foolish?”

  “You didn’t think you’d get caught.”

  “We advertised.”

  “In English. In Western publications.”

  “On the internet.”

  “You likely assumed Rayas didn’t have the internet.” He gave a silent shrug. “Or maybe you did believe Roark Black. At first. But you should have rectified the mistake as soon as it was brought to your attention.”

  It took her a moment to answer. “So should you. It’s a coincidence, nothing more.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences.” Raif couldn’t get past the astronomical odds that his statue had been stolen at the exact same time as the one that had supposedly gone down with the Titanic mysteriously surfaced. It defied logic and reason.

  “Ann?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Raif came to his feet. “Ann?”

  He rattled the doorknob.

  Still no answer.

  Reaching into the pocket of his slacks, he retrieved a folding multipurpose tool from his pocket, slipping open the narrow pick.

  “I’m fine,” came Ann’s voice.

  Then the door opened, and she stood in the door frame, wrapped in a huge white robe, her hair damp and her skin glowing.

  “No need to panic,” she told him.

  Raif gritted his teeth and held his tongue. Half of him wanted to shake her senseless, the other half wanted to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her lavender-scented skin.

  She pulled the lapels together, hiding her delicate neck. “I’m hungry,” she announced. “I was going to stand on principle and refuse to accept anything from you. But I’ve changed my mind. Order me something expensive, Kobe beef or Scottish lobster. Maybe some quail’s eggs or white truffles.”

  “Is this your little rebellion?”

  “Yes.” Her lips pursed in a pout, and he desperately wanted to kiss it away.

  He resisted. “You do know you can’t bankrupt me by eating.”

  “Then order me up a side of red diamonds.”

  “Two million a carat. Nice choice.”

  “How do you know their value so precisely?”

  “Queen Elizabeth presented one to my mother from the Argyle mines in Australia.”

  “You’ve met Queen Elizabeth?”

  “Yes.”

  “The queen of England.”

  “The very same. I went to school for two years at Oxford.”

  “So did thousands of other people. They didn’t meet the queen.”

  “The red diamond was before I went to Oxford. The queen was greeting the Rayasian royal party in Sydney, mostly because a number of Commonwealth nations want to trade for our lanthanum.”

  “And how much lanthanum does one get in exchange for a red diamond?”

  Raif found himself smiling. “It’s not quid pro quo. There weren’t gentlemen standing there with scales or anything.”

  “So, your mother gets a red diamond simply to give Commonwealth countries the opportunity to make a deal with Rayas for lanthanum.”

  “That about covers it.”

  She tipped her head sideways. “Is there anything in life you can’t have, Raif Khouri?”

  You.

  He gave himself a mental shake. But still, the air seemed to thicken between them.

  Her gaze softened on his. Her pink cheeks seemed to go a shade darker. Then her red lips parted ever so slightly.

  Of its own accord, his hand moved to the lapel on her robe, his skin dark against the stark white of the thick fabric. He fisted around it, eased her closer, his head dipping down, canting sideway, fitting his lips over the softness of hers.

  She gave a soft exclamation, before their kiss blocked out the sound. Her taste rocked through him, sweetened by the champagne, just like he remembered. She didn’t resist, her lips parted, giving him access, letting him into the deeper, sweeter recesses of her mouth.

  His free hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, holding her soft, warm body tight against his own. He’d missed this. He’d dreamed of this. He’d longed for the feel of her in his arms every damn night since they’d kissed in Rayas.

  But then she pushed against his shoulders, dragging her mouth from his. “Raif, no.”

  Yes! “Nobody’s here. No one can get a picture.” There was a fire in his belly, and it couldn’t be extinguished by her protest.

  “That’s not the point.”

  “What is the point?” He reluctantly removed his hand from her waist, resting it against the doorjamb, partially trapping her in place.

  “We’re fighting.”

  “So what?”

  “I’m your captive.”

  “That just makes it sexier.”

  She smacked the heel of her hand against his shoulder. “This isn’t Rayas.”

  He couldn’t seem to stop the half smile that formed on his face. “If this was Rayas, you’d already be in my bed.” In fact, she’d have been in his bed days ago, right after the charity party.

  “Am I supposed to be grateful for your restraint?”

  For a moment, he allowed himself to be honest. He let go of her lapel and brushed his fingers beneath her chin. “Yes, you are. Because, Ann Richardson, I am showing restraint. You are the most enchanting, exciting, amazingly beautiful woman I have ever met.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Maybe it’s because you rebuff me,” he mused. “Or maybe there really is a curse to the statue, but I want you very, very badly.”

  “I was told that you don’t believe in the curse.”

  “I don’t,” he concurred. “But all I can think about is you, watching you.”

  “Quit joking around, Raif.”

  “I’m not joking around.”

  “You don’t like me.”

  “And you don’t like me. But we both know you’ll kiss me back. You’re cursed, too, Ann.”

  She opened her mouth, but seemed to decide against speaking.

  “We’ll order something to eat,” he told her, determined to let his morals and principles win this one. “Something ridiculously expensive if that’s what you want. But for the rest of tonight, you are going to burn in my brain. I’m going to want you every second we’re together.”

  Silence fell between them, and Ann’s chest rose and fell with what looked like very deep breaths. Her color was high, and her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires.

  When she fi
nally spoke, her voice was throaty, barely above a whisper. “It’s a good thing you have diplomatic immunity. Because I’m pretty sure what you just said was illegal.”

  Raif forced himself to straighten away from her, dropping his arm and putting some space between them. “Everything’s illegal in America. It’s a wonder anyone here stays out of jail.”

  “It’s a wonder that the women of your country haven’t killed you while you slept.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “You’ve got spunk, Ann. Too bad it’s not coupled with honesty.”

  For the first time since he’d met her, she seemed to drop her guard. Her blue eyes turned clear and direct, level and intelligent. “Let me be honest. I would kiss you back. But that doesn’t make it okay. We might be attracted to each other on some kind of chemical level, but you and me is a very, very bad idea.”

  Intellectually, he agreed with her. But there were other forces at work here, powerful forces, inexorable forces. He hated to admit it to himself, but he was beginning to seriously consider the possibility of the Gold Heart curse. He knew Ann was the worst choice in the world for him. And he was normally a disciplined man. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting her.

  Four

  Against all earthly odds, the next afternoon, Ann found herself staring at Roark Black across a cold, stark, abandoned warehouse. Raif had brought her to an industrial area on the waterfront in Queens. He was now beside and slightly behind her as they faced Roark from about thirty feet away. Raif’s hand was clamped firmly around her upper arm, holding her when she would have gone to Roark.

  Both men had driven their vehicles into the building. Raif’s a dark gray Mercedes, and Roark’s a black SUV. Roark set a thick envelope down on a small, dusty bench between them.

  “Back away,” Raif ordered.

  Roark held up his palms and took a few steps back.

  As Raif urged her forward, Ann found her voice.

  “Roark, what are you—”

  “Quiet,” Raif demanded.

  “But—”

  “Shut up,” he growled in her ear.