Читать книгу Manolos In Manhattan - Katie Oliver - Страница 19

Chapter Ten

“Oh, Rhys – take me with you, please?”

Natalie stood behind her husband the next morning and slid her arms around his waist, peering over his shoulder as he stood before the mirror and tightened his tie into a Windsor knot.

“Not today, Natalie. I’ve got a million things to do and the store launch to deal with. Have you seen my silver cufflinks?” he asked as he turned away and began to look for them. “I’ve a meeting with Alastair and the staff in twenty minutes. You’re not bored already, are you?”

“Look in the enamel box on your dresser. And no, of course I’m not bored.”

Which wasn’t strictly true, exactly. But after lobbying Rhys to let her come along with him to Manhattan, she didn’t dare admit that after a month spent shopping, lunching, walking, and museum-going, she was...well, she was a tiny bit bored.

It wasn’t much fun to do things – anything – on your own. And Rhys worked such long hours each day, by the time he got home he was tired, so they hadn’t gone to see so much as a film together, much less a Broadway show, and their meals thus far had consisted of takeout sushi and pizza.

“They’re not here,” he called out irritably from the bedroom.

“That’s odd. The movers assured me they unpacked your suits and things and put them all away on Saturday.”

“Someone put them away, all right – in their pocket. These’ll have to do,” he said, and he put on the onyx cufflinks she’d bought him for his birthday.

“Darling,” Natalie added tentatively as she followed him down the hallway, “Why don’t I work at D & J for a couple of days a week, just for a bit? I could fetch your lunch, come up with a few marketing ideas. What do you think?”

“It’s not necessary. I told you, there’s an entire team in place and everything’s well in hand. And I have Chaz to fetch my lunch and keep track of my diary. He’s amazing – don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Don’t forget, I was the one who planned the relaunch for the London store. It’s how we met, after all.”

“Yes, and you nearly bollocksed it up when you forgot to ask Poppy to model in the catwalk show until the last minute.”

“How was I to know she’d be in Sri Lanka on a photo shoot?” she retorted.

“Natalie, her time is scheduled weeks, months in advance. You knew that, yet you left it too late.”

“Oh, do be quiet,” she said crossly. “It was a tiny mistake that anyone could’ve made.”

“A tiny mistake that nearly ruined the entire relaunch.”

“You’d best go,” Natalie retorted, “or you’ll be late for your meeting.”

He leaned forward and kissed her. “Don’t sulk, darling, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Why don’t you two have breakfast‒” he reached down and patted her just-starting-to-show belly “‒and then do a bit of shopping? Buy some more baby things. Or start doing up the guest bedroom as that nursery you’re always on about.”

Although Natalie wasn’t due until mid-September, they’d decided to turn one of the guest bedrooms into a nursery, even though she planned to have the baby in London. But, as she pointed out, they’d need a place for the baby to stay the next time they came to New York to visit, wouldn’t they?

Rhys had agreed. The only things in there at the moment were a pram, boxes of nappies and baby clothes, and a pile of the most darling stuffed animals that somehow kept growing taller by the day.

“I can’t,” she said. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Then hire someone to come in and decorate,” Rhys said. “Now – I’ve really got to run. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Bye,” Nat said, her expression forlorn as Rhys grabbed his briefcase, kissed her cheek, and slammed out of the apartment like a well-dressed whirlwind. “I love you.”

But he didn’t answer. He was already gone.

She made her way down the hall to the kitchen and brewed a cup of decaf, carefully avoiding the intimidating espresso machine that resided beside the coffee maker. With its dials and levers and steam arm, the machine terrified her.

Well, what to do today? she wondered as she sat down at the kitchen table, coffee cup in hand. She could sort through the new baby clothes...but she’d already sorted through them twice. She could clean the apartment – but it was spotless, thanks to the maid who came in twice a week to scrub and polish and tidy things up. Her gaze settled on the New York Daily News Rhys had left abandoned on the table.

She took a sip of her decaf and pulled the newspaper towards her.

CAT BURGLAR STRIKES AGAIN! The front-page headline screamed.

Curious, she began to read the article.

Manhattan’s elusive cat burglar struck again last night, robbing an undisclosed Park Place apartment and stealing an estimated $2 million in jewels.

The jewels, including a Harry Winston diamond choker and matching earrings, were reported missing after Honoria Van Landingham and her husband Thomas returned from a charity ball held at the Ritz Carlton late last night. Police Chief Anthony Smith stated there was no sign of a break-in.

As in recent burglaries, the security system was armed. Mrs Van Landingham informed police that she activated the system before leaving her apartment, and notified authorities upon discovering the jewels, valued at $1.9 million, were missing from the apartment safe.

There are currently no suspects and no leads.

“Goodness,” Natalie murmured. A cat burglar? Images of a suave thief, dressed in black as he rappelled from a tenth-story window following a successful heist, flickered through her head.

It was all terribly mysterious and exciting. But not, of course, for poor Mrs Van Landingham, who’d had her jewels stolen.

Natalie had a sudden thought. Rhys’s silver cufflinks – which the movers assured her they’d put in the enamel box on his dresser – had gone missing. Was Rhys right – had one of the movers pocketed them?

Or had someone – the cat burglar, perhaps – stolen them?

Her eyes widened. After all, she’d seen someone in the apartment on Sunday night...someone with a gun.

She set her cup down on the table and hurried to the bedroom, and reached for the little enamel box on Rhys’s dresser.

It was empty; a quick search confirmed that her husband’s cufflinks were, indeed, gone. And although she searched the entire bedroom for evidence of a visit from the burglar, there was nothing.

Those bloody thieving movers, Natalie thought indignantly as she returned to the kitchen, and her coffee. We certainly won’t be using their services again.

Still, she knew she’d seen someone in the apartment the night before, looming over her in the darkness with a gun in hand.

Was it the cat burglar? Had he been there to rob their apartment?

What if she hadn’t screamed and wakened Rhys? Who knew what might have happened?

All these thoughts of burglaries and cat thieves made her a bit nervous. She went to the phone and dialed Rhys’s number.

“Good morning, Dashwood and James, Rhys Gordon’s office,” Chaz chirped. “How may I help you?”

“Hello, Chaz. I’d like to speak to my husband, please,” Natalie said.

“Good morning, Mrs Gordon. I’m sorry, but Mr Gordon just got here, and he’s already in a meeting. May I take a message?”

Ordinarily Natalie would thank him politely, leave a message, and ring off, but the newspaper article had left her more than a bit rattled.

“I need to speak with him straight away. It’s important.”

“Very well,” Chaz said doubtfully. “One moment, please.”

A few minutes later Rhys picked up the phone. “Natalie, what’s wrong? Is it the baby?” There was a trace of alarm in his voice.

“No, nothing like that. The baby’s fine. So am I.”

“Thank God. Why did you call, then? I’m in the middle of a meeting. Chaz said it was important.”

“It is important, very important. Oh, Rhys,” she wailed, “there’s been another cat burglary, and practically next door! I was reading about it in the papers just now. I think the burglar must’ve stolen your cufflinks on Sunday night, right after he robbed the Van Landinghams.”

To her surprise – and annoyance – he began to laugh.

“Rhys,” she said crossly, “it isn’t funny. I’m alone and pregnant in an apartment that’s been struck by the most notorious burglar in Manhattan, and all you can do is laugh?”

“Sorry, darling,” he told her. “But I hardly think the thief would break in to our apartment for a pair of cufflinks.” He paused. “I should’ve told you.”

“Told me what?”

“I found the cufflinks in my suit pocket on the way in to work this morning. So there’s no need to worry. And there was no burglar in our apartment on Sunday night. I checked, remember?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m sorry, Nat,” he cut in impatiently, “but I have to go. Don’t worry – you’re perfectly safe. We’ll talk later, when I get home.”

And before she could respond, he rang off.