Bridget’s eyes narrowed in the pretense of being a slighted lover. “I want this necklace to complete my collection,” she said haughtily.
He stroked his chin with his fingers, as if contemplating her demand. “Pussycat,” he began in a tone meant to placate, “you can’t have everything you want.”
Her expression turned sullen. “I have everything but emeralds, and you told me when I found something I liked you would buy it for me, regardless of the cost. This is the necklace I want.”
Carranza glanced at Paige, looking appropriately exasperated by his fiancée’s behavior-but not enough to deny her. “Do you mind if I ask where you bought the necklace?”
Paige’s heart pounded so hard, she feared he’d be able to see it thumping beneath her prim suit. Gradually moving closer to where they both stood, she forced herself to concentrate on the various responses she and Josh had rehearsed. Drop subtle clues, he’d told her.
“Oh, I didn’t buy it,” she said, amazed to find her voice so steady when her insides were quaking. “After my husband died a few months ago I found the necklace stashed in a safe I have at home. Most likely it was a gift he never had the chance to give me.”
“How much do you want for it?” Bridget asked imperiously.
Paige met her ruthless stare, wondering what Anhony had seen in the other woman that he’d risked his life for. Excitement? Danger? “I’m sorry, it’s not for sale.”
The other woman’s gaze turned frosty, chilling Paige to the bone. “Everything has a price, and Victor will gladly pay yours.”
“Now, Pussycat,” Carranza began, patting her arm onsolingly. “If it’s not for sale-”
“I want it,” she stated angrily, and in a swirl of red left the office.
Paige drew a steady breath, a little shaken by the lark, merciless glint she’d seen in Bridget’s gaze. She knew her tantrum had been a performance, but her rancor had seemed so real…
After a moment, Victor cast Paige a contrite look, as if to say his fiancée’s petulance was a common occurrence he’d grown used to. “I’m afraid when she sets her mind on something she doesn’t let up until she gets it. Maybe you could reconsider selling the necklace?”
Paige’s insides were clenching, churning. She struggled to keep up her end of the farce, hating every minute of it. “I have to confess that I suspect the necklace is fake, and not nearly as valuable as your fiancée might believe.”
“Really?” His brows rose in surprise. “You had it appraised?”
She shook her head. “No, but I know my husband wouldn’t have afforded a necklace like that if the jewels were authentic.”
“Hmmm.” He scrutinized the portrait once more. "Would you be opposed to having the necklace looked at by my appraiser? I’d be willing to offer market value plus thirty percent, fake or no.”
She’d bet odds that his appraiser would conclud that the jewels were synthetic, and not worth more that a couple of hundred dollars-an uncomplicated, easy transaction for a million-dollar necklace. No murder, no mayhem, no more encounters with the witch. She was tempted, but knew that simple route wasn’t an option
Play hard to get. Josh’s words echoed in her mind “That’s very generous of you, but I really don think-”
“Trust me, buying this necklace, at any cost, will save me a lot of grief where Bridget is concerned.” He smile persuasively. “Tell you what. I’m having a dinner part next Saturday at my estate in the Keys. Why don’t you join us? I have a guest cottage you’re welcome to use for the weekend.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly.” Dread twisted within he when she thought of staying at this man’s estate, along at his complete mercy. She grasped for an excuse to refuse his offer. “I’m seeing someone, and I don’t think he’d like me attending a party without him.”
“By all means, bring him along,” he suggested generously. “My appraiser will be there. Bring the necklace, I’ll have him look at it, and we can make a deal that will benefit both of us.” He winked at her, and without giving her time to refuse said, “I’ll be in touch to give you directions to my estate.”
She watched him leave her office, heard his voice mingling with Bridget’s, then the tinkle of the boutique’s door chime as they left the Wild Rose. Dimly she realized that he’d left no business card, no phone number, or any other way to contact him. She was like a spider caught in his web-relinquishing the Ivanov necklace would be her only means of escape.
She stood there, alone in the office, her body trembling in a series of tiny aftershocks that kicked up her adrenaline. Everything had gone as planned. They were going to be on Carranza’s turf, just as Lieutenant Reynolds wanted. Except she had no desire to display that necklace, or be a part of such a potentially deadly scheme-no matter how much protection Josh promised her.
She had no choice. That realization brought on a wave of anger so fierce, it heated her blood and made her tense enough to snap at Liz when she slipped into the office and asked if she was okay.
Hell, no, she wasn’t okay! She had absolutely no control over the situation, or her life at the moment, and she resented every bit of it-from Anthony’s deceit, to Carranza’s ruthlessness, to being forced into a dangerous situation that put her life at risk. Liz attempted to reason with her, but she was far from feeling rational. Not when her entire future looked shaky at best.
Within ten minutes of Carranza’s departure, Josh arrived at the boutique, no doubt having heard her snapping at Liz through the van’s surveillance system. The door Liz had shut to give them privacy swung open without a knock and Josh strode inside, his expression fierce and focused on Paige.
“Give us a few minutes alone, Liz,” he ordered without looking at the other woman.
“Sure.” Relief laced Liz’s voice. Slipping out of the room before the fireworks started, she closed the door behind her.
Josh came up to Paige and rested his hands gently on her shoulders. “You did just fine, sweetheart,” he said, his thumbs stroking along her neck in an attempt to relax her.
“I did just fine?” Her voice was shrill. She was ready for a fight, itching to vent the turbulent emotions building within her. “My God, Josh, I came face-to-face with the woman Anthony had an affair with, and the man who had him murdered!” There was no need to explain any of the conversation she’d had with Carranza-he’d heard every word from the surveillance van. “What’s to stop him from killing me, too?”
Something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes, then was gone. “All he wants is the necklace, which we’re going to make sure he confiscates so we can prosecute him. We’re right where we want to be.”
“You’re right where you want to be, you mean.” Finding his touch much too distracting, she stepped away from him. Her nerves remained coiled tight. “Isn’t there some other way to lure Carranza?”
“No.” Though his gaze held understanding, his inflexible tone cut off any further objections. “He knows you have the necklace and, judging by the conversation we heard, he intends to confiscate it-with or without your cooperation. I prefer we cooperate, which means accepting his dinner invitation.”
She glared at him for long moments, wanting to argue, wanting to refuse. He stared back unflinchingly, unwilling to compromise. Protesting would be a waste of breath, she knew.
“Fine,” she said flatly, turning away from him and going to her desk. Gathering files, she stuffed them into her briefcase, her movements brusque. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s been a long day and I’d like you to take me home.”