“There he is, our host, the Boss himself, out on the steps to greet us,” Verity said. She was squashed in the Jag’s tiny back space meant for nothing more than a weekend bag and maybe a dog or two, knees under her chin, valiantly holding down her short skirt.
“So he is,” Mirabella noticed. “I’d forgotten how good-looking he is,” she added. The Boss was smart, even chic, in a dinner jacket that slid over his broad shoulders as though it was made for them, which of course it was. The Boss would not stoop to ready-to-wear; he was way beyond that. Just take a look at his villa, a palace. Lights gleaming from every window, gardens lit so every blossom showed its petals, even the sea was prettily floodlit to show its cresting white waves. Tall, black-lacquered tubs were placed on the steps leading to the open front door, each with a flowering syringa bush whose lilac scent permeated the night air. Music filtered from the terraces along with the sound of laughter, the clink of ice in glasses.
The Boss spotted them and came quickly over, holding out his arms to help lift Verity from the tight backseat. “Welcome to my party.”
She quickly tugged down her white silk skirt, which unfortunately had creased on the short journey.
But the Boss’s eyes were not on Verity’s skirt right now. They had moved on to Mirabella. His prey was here, on his turf.
Chad went to help Mirabella, but the Boss was there first, already holding open the door, eyes checking her head to toe.
“I remember your aunt wearing those pearls,” the Boss said as he walked with her up the steps.
“Is that right?” She was surprised because to her knowledge Aunt Jolly had rarely worn the pearls. “Well, now they are mine,” she added, patting them against her chest.
“Those and the Villa Romantica,” he said. “My, aren’t you the lucky girl.”
Mirabella gave him a quick sideways look. Could he be laughing at her? “I am a lucky girl to have had an aunt like Jolly Matthews. We didn’t see each other often, but there was always a connection.”
“Which I assume is why she left you her property.”
She gave him another sideways glance, but he was looking away from her. She thought surely they would not be going to get into this “sell me your land” business at the party.
“Chad.” The Boss had moved on and was shaking Prescott’s hand. “I think you will find everything you need, and whatever drink you want, it’s available. Pink champagne, of course, as always. And my chefs have prepared a veritable banquet. They do so love the opportunity to show off their talents.”
Mounting the steps, Chad thought he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, behind the line of waiting valet parkers, of a man he recognized. The next minute he was gone. Now Chad remembered who he was. He’d seen him on the café terrace. He was the man known as “the Russian.”
24
Mirabella
This is the grandest party I have ever attended. My life as a writer is by its nature solitary, except for those spurts in between books when I escape into what I call “the real world” and take myself off to places like Paris or Venice, where I gorge on historic beauty, and where I prefer to be alone. Other places, for more intimate reasons, I travel with the man of the moment, though lately, no one special enough to last the course all the way to the altar. I recently contemplated getting engaged, but he changed his mind before I could. So there it was, three down, all escapees from my clutches, and maybe more to go. Not many though, are as attractive as Chad Prescott, even though I consider him a shit and full of himself. Still, he is good-looking and a good doctor, I’ll have to give him that. And now, he is my escort for the party of the year.
Never doubt the allure of a man in a tuxedo; there’s just something about that crisp black-and-white look, or maybe it’s simply seeing a man wearing a jacket in this era of casual dressing that can make a girl’s heart flutter.
He put a hand under my elbow as we walked up the steps and into the Villa Mara. The Boss, our beaming host, was already holding Verity’s hand firmly in his own. She threw back her head in a laugh and I wondered what he was saying that was so amusing. I was uneasy. She was so unworldly. She had already been taken by one man, and this one was rich and powerful, a dangerous combination to any young woman.