Читать книгу The Highest Bidder - Maureen Child - Страница 9

Two hours later, Vance crumpled the newspaper and tossed it aside. Fury rose up inside him but he quickly reined it in. Just as Tracy had promised, the story about a possible affair between Ann Richardson and Dalton Rothschild was on page twenty-six. For a second, Vance told himself that since the so-called story was buried in a small column on a page filled with ads, it might get ignored.

But the chances of that were actually slim to none. There was nothing people liked better than the makings of a good scandal and this one would be talked about for weeks. It wasn’t just the rumors of an affair, but the possibility of collusion that had him worried. He hoped to hell there was nothing to it, because if there was, they were looking at official investigations, charges—possibly even the destruction of Waverly’s.

He snatched up his phone, punched in a number and waited for it to be answered. When it was, he snapped, “Dammit, Tracy.”

“Vance, not my fault,” the woman on the other end said matter-of-factly. “My editor got a tip and we acted on it. At least I gave you a heads-up.”

“Yeah, for all the good that does me.” Tracy had called him late last night. Not much of a warning system, and he had a feeling she had only done it because she wanted to give him a little extra time to stew over it.

He stood up and turned to stare out at the city streets. Manhattan was sweltering under a vicious summer sun. Tourists strolled along Madison Avenue, getting buffeted by the quicker-moving locals who had places to go and didn’t want to linger in the heat.

“Is there any proof of this story?”

“You know I can’t answer that.”

“Fine. But if you have any other ‘tips’ let me know before you go to print, will you?”

“No promises,” she snapped. Then she asked, “Sound familiar?” just before she hung up.

Vance winced, knowing full well she shouldn’t be telling him a damn thing. A year ago, Tracy had been in his bed for a couple of months and when he’d told her it was over, he had reminded her that he’d gone into the affair warning her of “no promises.”

It was the same warning he gave every woman who entered his life. He wasn’t looking for long-term. He’d seen what his mother’s and older sister’s deaths had done to his father. Hell, it had crippled the man, leaving him a broken, empty shell. If love was that powerful, then Vance wanted nothing to do with it. As for having a family of his own? He’d never even been tempted. So, since he had zero interest in finding a wife, for God’s sake, why bother pretending anything different? Wasn’t it better to be honest with a woman up front?

He shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts, since they really had nothing to do with the current situation anyway.

Setting the phone back in its cradle, Vance stuffed his hands into his pockets and shook his head. Waverly’s was all he had and damn if he’d lose it. His family had built this place and, as one of the last Waverlys still standing, he would do whatever was necessary to save it.

Turning, he buzzed the intercom. “Charlie, would you come in here, please?”

A second or two later, his door opened and she was standing in the doorway. Her long blond hair hung over one shoulder and her wide blue eyes were fixed on him. Once again, Vance felt that punch of something hot hit his system and he was forced to deliberately quash it.

“Is there a problem?”

“You could say that,” Vance muttered and waved her inside. He pointed at the couch on the far wall and said, “Have a seat.”

She did and he noticed the wary expression on her face.

“Relax,” he said, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. “I’m not firing you.”

She let out a breath and gave him a smile. “Good to know. What can I do for you, then?”

Bracing his forearms on his knees, Vance looked into her eyes and said, “You can tell me everything you’ve heard lately about Ann Richardson.”

“Excuse me?”

“If there’s been talk, I want to know about it,” he told her flatly. “You must have heard about the article in the paper.”

Her eyes shifted away from him for a second before returning to meet his stare. “The phone’s been ringing for the last half hour with people wanting to talk to you.”

“Perfect,” he muttered. “Who?”

“I’ve got a stack of messages on my desk, but mainly, it’s the other board members and then there were a couple of reporters. Also, a cable business network wants an interview.”

He fell back against the sofa cushion and shook his head again. “This is going to get much worse before it’s over.” He had to talk to Ann. Figure out what was going on and the best way to mount a defense. His gaze speared into Charlie’s.

“I know people are talking about this here in the company. What have you heard?”

She frowned at him. “I don’t listen to gossip.”

“Ordinarily, a good thing. Right now, I need to know what people in the building are saying.”

She took a long, slow breath and looked as if she were having an internal argument with herself on whether or not to answer him. Briefly, Vance considered making that request an order, but discounted that notion. He didn’t want to make her defensive and careful about what she said. He needed as much information as he could get.

She bit into her bottom lip and finally blurted out, “People are worried. They’re afraid Waverly’s will be shut down, that they’re going to lose their jobs. Frankly, I’m a little worried, too. The article mentioned possible collusion—”

“Yeah, I know it did,” he muttered.

“What does Ms. Richardson say?”

Vance scowled. “I haven’t spoken to her about it yet. I got a tip about the article coming out today, but not in time to do anything about it. I expect it will be a topic of conversation during the board meeting, though.”

“What do you think is going on?” she asked and he realized that by asking her opinion on what was happening in Waverly’s, he’d opened a door between them.

A week ago, she would have been too skittish, too nervous to ask him that. Now, though, things had apparently changed. Oddly, he didn’t mind. She was a good listener and it was nice to be able to talk this out with someone who knew what was going on, yet didn’t have a major stake in the outcome.

“I don’t know,” he admitted and that cost him. Vance didn’t like not having the answers. He wasn’t accustomed to being in the dark. He preferred being on top of any given situation. Knowing the answers before the questions were asked. In this case, though, all he had to go on were his gut instincts. “I like Ann. She’s always struck me as a sensible, honest woman. She’s been good for Waverly’s …”

“But?”

One corner of his mouth lifted. Not just a good listener, but insightful, too, hearing the hesitation in his voice.

“But the truth is, I don’t know her very well.” He leaned back against the couch. “No one here does. She does her job, but keeps to herself.”

“There’s a lot of that going around,” she murmured.

Cocking his head, he asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She stiffened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—I only meant that you—Well, you’re pretty much a loner, too, and … Oh, just fire me and get it over with.”

For the first time in longer than he cared to admit, Vance laughed. He saw the surprise on her face and knew it was echoed on his own features. For a week, he’d been regretting hiring Charlotte Potter. Right at that moment, he couldn’t remember why. She was smart, competent and she made him laugh.

If only she didn’t smell so good.

“As I said,” he told her, “I’m not going to fire you.”

Still, irritated by his own thoughts, by the flicker of something hot bristling inside him, Vance shut it all down. He pushed up from the couch and purposely made his voice brisk and businesslike. Back on firm footing, boss to assistant. “If you do hear anything, I want you to tell me immediately.”

Charlie slowly rose to her feet and lifted her chin in a defiant tilt. “I won’t spy on my friends.”

She went up another notch in his estimation. One thing Vance could admire was loyalty. “I’m not asking you to spy,” he pointed out. “Just to listen.”

“I can do that.”

“Good.” He opened the closet door, pulled out his suit coat and slipped it on. “I’m leaving for the board meeting now.” He checked the gold watch on his left wrist. He’d be late if he didn’t leave right away, and Vance Waverly was never late for anything.

“I should be back by four—have those condition reports on the Ming vases ready for me when I get back.”

“Yes, sir.”

He heard her sharp reply, and for a second, regretted the fact that she was doing much as he was—shifting back into business mode. Then the regret dropped away. Better this way. Easier. And far more logical. He didn’t look back as he stalked from his office, headed for the boardroom and the meeting that would no doubt shake up a few things at Waverly’s.

Charlie let out a breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding. For a few brief moments, she and Vance had actually been talking like … friends. She’d had a chance at a tiny peek at the man behind the cool facade that usually shrouded him.

And that one peek had completely intrigued her and made her want more. So not a good thing, Charlie told herself firmly. Wanting more with Vance Waverly made as much sense as wanting to spend the afternoon in Paris. And had as much chance of happening.

Nope. He was boss. She was assistant. And never the twain would meet or mingle or anything else for that matter. Frowning to herself, Charlie walked back to her desk. She had been completely off men for more than two years. Hadn’t been attracted to one. Hadn’t been so much as tempted by the thought of romance. Ever since she had made the giant mistake of trusting the wrong man.

But now, for the first time in way too long, she had felt that little tingle of … appreciation? Interest?

“And just like before,” she muttered in disgust, “you picked exactly the wrong man.” Wrong for different reasons, of course, but still …

No, she wouldn’t jeopardize her job, her newfound security, for a passing flirtation. No good could come of that. So Charlie reined in her hormones and then tied them down nice and tight. She didn’t need to be indulging in any fantasies about her boss, for heaven’s sake. What she needed to be doing was impressing the hell out of him—as she’d spent the past week doing—so she could keep this job.

Every step up the ladder was a good one. Charlie had plans. She wouldn’t always be an assistant. She was going to keep learning the business, eventually get her master’s in art history and then get a job as curator or an art specialist there at the house. Just as Ann Richardson, their CEO, had done when she was starting out. The higher Charlie climbed the proverbial ladder, the better the life she could provide for herself and her son.

Jake was what mattered, she reminded herself sternly. Her baby boy was counting on her and she wasn’t going to let him down.

With that thought firmly in mind, Charlie dismissed all her earlier notions about Vance Waverly and got back to work. Picking up a file folder from the edge of her desk, she headed for the jewelry salesroom on the second floor. She had the provenances for several pieces to deliver.

Plush carpet muffled her steps as she walked down the long halls toward the elevator. Throughout the floor, she heard typing and quiet phone conversations. It was a rarified atmosphere up on the seventh floor. Here was where the officers of Waverly’s worked, made the decisions that kept the auction house one of the top of its kind in the world. And here she would make her mark, she told herself as she stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the second floor.

The doors slid shut on a whisper and the subtle strains of classical music sighed out around her. She caught her reflection in the polished brass doors and smiled. When the doors opened again, she walked along gleaming wood floors, listening idly to the click of her own heels tapping out a fast beat.

The first two floors of the venerable old building were devoted to the salesrooms. Each of them was different. Each of them beautiful in its own way.

Polished oak floorboards stretched for what seemed like miles. Paintings and sculptures lined the walls and huge vases filled with fresh flowers created a subtle scent that permeated the air.

The hush of this floor was almost churchlike, and why not? Here was where the treasures of the world came to be admired, and then sold to live again with someone new. Charlie walked to the far room and stepped through the wide, double doorway.

“Charlie!” A male voice called her name and she turned.

Justin Dawes was walking toward her. Justin was the head of the precious-gem department at Waverly’s. About forty, he was balding, far too thin and his kind blue eyes were always narrowed in a squint. He had told her once it was the curse of his profession. Too many hours looking through jeweler’s loupes at the stones he loved so much.

Today Justin looked a little harried and less than his urbane self. His tie was loosened and the sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up to the elbow. His suit coat had been abandoned and thin wisps of brown hair stood straight up at the crown of his head.

“You have the provenances?”

“Right here,” she said and handed over the file.

“Good. That’s great.” He flipped through them, then shot her a look. “They’ve been verified?”

“Over and over again,” she said, smiling. “Justin, you checked all the stones yourself, remember? Even before the provenances came through. Don’t worry. Everything’s good.”

“It’s an important collection,” he told her, glancing back into the room where an auction would be held in two days. “Want to take a look?”

“I really do.”

He took her arm and guided her into the center of the room.

Lighting was everything in an auction house, and Waverly’s spared no expense in seeing things done right. Around the circumference of the huge, oak-paneled room, glass cases stood beneath spotlights that shone down on the fabulous items inside those cases. Those lights made the precious gems glitter and shine like fallen stars—or pieces of a rainbow.

Charlie couldn’t stop the sigh of appreciation. They turned in a slow circle, admiring the whole setup before Justin said, “Come look at this one piece. It’s amazing.”

“Oh, my,” she whispered as she followed Justin toward a single display case. Beneath the glass lay a swell of black velvet and on that velvet was a necklace unlike anything she’d ever seen before.

Gold wire, as thin and fragile as a single strand of hair, dripped with rubies and diamonds. The stones themselves were wrapped in the gold thread, then left to dangle like dreams from the slender chain that made up the base of the piece. The rubies shone like fresh blood and the diamonds were …

“It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Justin stared at the stones like a man in love. “Worn by the queen of Cadria more than a hundred years ago. It was crafted especially for her—some say, by Fabergé himself.” He sighed a little. “Of course, we can’t prove that, because even Cadria’s royal family today doesn’t know for sure. A shame, really. Wouldn’t that have looked impressive in the provenance? But still, stunning.”

Charlie shook her head as she looked at the necklace. She wanted to touch it but was terrified to breathe too close to it. “It’s amazing, Justin. But why is the king of Cadria auctioning off so many of the royal jewels?”

“Ah,” he said with a wink, “the current king is honoring his grandmother by establishing a charity in her name, and the proceeds from this sale are going directly to that. Plus, he thinks the publicity from this sale will spur more donors to support his grandmother’s charity.”

“Still seems a shame to get rid of something that belongs to your whole family.”

“Oh, don’t worry about royals, sweetie,” Justin told her. “They have more jewelry and shiny stuff than they know what to do with. These pieces probably won’t even be missed.”

“I would miss a necklace like that,” she said softly. “I’d be too scared of breaking or losing the darn thing to actually wear it, but I would miss it.”

“You’ve got a soft heart, Charlie,” Justin told her with a grin. “Which means you’ll love the legend of the necklace.”

“A legend?”

“Oh, yes. All the best stones come with a legend. Apparently, the then-king had this crafted especially for his bride as a wedding present. It’s said the rubies are charmed somehow and hold the secret to a long and happy marriage.”

Charlie looked over at him and smiled as her heart twisted in her chest. What would that be like, she wondered, to be loved so much? She thought of the queen who had worn it and the king who had clearly adored her and thought that sometimes, real life was even better than fairy tales. “That’s lovely.”

Justin winked at her. “Yeah. And it should really push up the price on the necklace, too. Nothing a bidder likes more than a little history added to a piece.”

She laughed. Couldn’t help it. “You’re shameless.”

“Guilty as charged,” he admitted with a grin.

Charlie reached out one hand toward the glass enclosure, then stopped before touching it. Her fingers curled into her palm.

“It’s okay. Alarms are turned off for the moment. Here, let me show you.” Justin lifted the glass case off the tall wooden base and allowed the necklace the freedom to shine.

“Even prettier,” she said on a sigh. Though it was so far out of her range of possibilities it might as well have been on Mars, Charlie couldn’t help the tickle of avarice that made her want to snatch it up.

“You want to pet it?” he asked, laughing.

“Pet it, try it on, wear it home and sing it to sleep,” Charlie admitted, deliberately putting her hands behind her back to keep herself from giving in to the urge to touch those glittering stones that shone so warmly under the lights.

“Can’t blame you,” Justin said. “And with your coloring, it would look gorgeous on you.”

She thought so, too. In fact, Charlie could almost feel the cool glide of the gold against her skin and the icy feel of each stone settling into place around her neck. Oh, it would be wonderful as well as terrifying to own something that looked so … magical. Then she imagined the expression on Vance Waverly’s handsome face as he draped that priceless necklace around her throat and—Okay. Stop it!

Clearing her mind of thoughts that had no business being there she said, “Yes, well. When I marry a rich prince, I’ll be sure to tell him what kind of necklace to have made for me.”

Justin laughed. “There you go. I like a woman with a plan.”

He set the glass cover back into place and Charlie let her gaze slide around the room. Tomorrow, this room would be filled with rows of straight-backed, velvet-tufted chairs. A podium would be centered at the end of the room and the sound system would be hooked up. The day after that, this room would be bustling with bidders from all over the world, each of them hoping to take home a small piece of the long-dead queen’s collection.

Charlie had already signed on to work the auction in whatever capacity she was needed, but she wouldn’t be envying the buyers. Justin was right, she thought. Charlie did have a plan. But it didn’t include diamonds and rubies. It entailed working her way to the very top of the auction world and being able to buy a house with a yard for her son to play in. Before he was too old to be interested in playing.

Charlie Potter wasn’t the kind of woman men draped in diamonds, and that was okay with her. These pieces were lovely to look at, but the truth was, she’d be too afraid of losing them to ever enjoy owning them.

She had nothing in common with the kind of people who could come in here and walk out with a queen’s jewelry. Which meant, she reminded her hormones, that she had nothing in common with Vance Waverly. That a few minutes of relaxed conversation wasn’t the go-ahead for her to get all dreamy-eyed over him. Besides, she told herself, it was important to pause and remember what had happened the last time she had let her heart take control of her mind.