A Golden Betrayal

Any old millionaire could buy a twenty-carat diamond bracelet, but few men had the real money it took to buy their loved ones jewelry once worn by European royalty. Provenance was everything in the auction business.

Ann bent down to shut off her bike.

“Uh-oh.” Darby’s tone was dire, her hand suddenly grasping the back of Ann’s shoulder.

“What?” Ann straightened in confusion.

Darby nodded to the television screen.

Dalton Rothschild was speaking, but the closed-captioning didn’t show his words. The picture of Ann kissing Raif flashed on the screen.

“Can you tell what he’s saying?” Ann asked worriedly.

Black and white words finally came up on the bottom half of the screen.

Do you expect shareholders to accept Rothschild’s offer? the reporter had asked.

Given the events of the past days, and Ms. Richardson’s rapidly deteriorating credibility, Dalton had replied, I expect the board to recommend it.

“That son of a bitch,” growled Darby.

“He does play dirty,” Ann agreed, her mind scrambling to figure out what Dalton was talking about.

Had something changed? She was under no illusion that she had the unanimous support of the board. She’d guessed it was about fifty-fifty. Though, thanks to Raif, the balance might have tipped away from her yesterday.

But that didn’t explain why they’d recommend shareholders sell to Rothschild’s.

Then again, Dalton could easily be lying to the reporter about the board recommending the sale. At least, she hoped he was lying. If he wasn’t lying, she might as well cash out her modest investments, find a cheap beach hut somewhere in the Caribbean and then call it retirement, because her professional life would be over.

“What are you going to do?” asked Darby, as the news channel switched to another story.

“I have to talk to Edwina.” Ann flipped the towel over her shoulder and started toward the showers where her cell phone was secured in a locker. She needed to find out if it was true. If so, she needed to know which board members were supporting Dalton.

“What about Roark?” Darby asked, falling into step.

Despite her brave front, Ann had been struggling for days now not to lose patience with Roark.

“I know it’s complicated,” she allowed. “But if he doesn’t show up soon with the proof that we have the missing Gold Heart statue and not Raif’s stolen one, he might as well not bother. There’ll be no Waverly’s left to sell it.”

“Are they going to fire you?” Darby asked, as they left the noise of the exercise room behind and made their way down the wide hallway.

“I expect I’ll find out after tonight’s auction.”

That was the bald truth of it. Some of the board members were intensely loyal and trusted her implicitly. They gave her full credit for the growth of the company over the past few years. Ann knew she’d done well, but she also knew she was rapidly becoming a liability.

“Damn you, Raif Khouri,” she muttered between clenched teeth.

If the man hadn’t been so insistent about the statue. If he hadn’t lit a fire under the Interpol agents. If he hadn’t accused her, or kissed her...

If it wasn’t for Raif, she’d at least have a fighting chance at keeping her job.

* * *

Raif gazed out at the nighttime view of Manhattan from the royal suite at the Plaza Hotel. Anger had churned in the pit of his stomach since he’d discovered Ann’s duplicity this morning. He’d wasted two days on a fool’s errand. Roark wasn’t in California. He’d probably never been in California. Sure, there was a reservation under his name in the hotel, but a little digging by Jordan had revealed the room had been charged to Ann’s credit card.

Raif knew the woman was smart. Now he realized she was also cunning. Well, the gloves were off. He knew exactly where he stood, and he was going after her with no hesitation whatsoever.

He heard the suite door open, then close.

“It’s done,” said Tariq, his footsteps bringing him across the thick carpet to where Raif stood.

“She bought it?” Raif asked without turning.

“Ann will be here in twenty minutes.”

“Good.” Raif smiled to himself in grim satisfaction.

“You hungry?” asked Tariq.

“Not in the least.”

“I thought maybe later—”

“I’ll be busy later.”

Tariq was still for a moment. “Do I want to ask?”

“No, you don’t. Jordan left?”

“He did.”

“You should go, too.”

“Raif, you won’t—”

Raif turned sharply. “Won’t what?”

He could almost see the war going on inside Tariq’s head. Did he dare treat Raif like a cousin and boyhood friend, and question his actions? Or was now a time to defer to Raif as the future king?

“You should go, too,” Raif repeated softly.

“I worry about you,” said Tariq.

“I worry about Rayas,” Raif responded.

“You won’t hurt her,” Tariq dared to say.

“I don’t know. She did what she did, and I need what I need.” Raif honestly wasn’t sure what he’d be willing to do to Ann. But he did know he didn’t need to justify it to Tariq. He changed the subject. “Kalila called today.”

“Has she come to her senses?” asked Tariq.

“Not in the least. She’s a spoiled brat.”

Raif’s younger cousin couldn’t seem to think of anything but her own selfish desires—not the king, and not her country.

“She’s a product of her time,” Tariq offered.

“I never should have let her go to school in Istanbul.”

Tariq joined him at the window. “She needs to understand the world.”

“She needs to understand her duty.”

Tariq was silent for a moment. “You don’t think it’s the Gold Heart curse?”

“There is no curse.”

Tariq paused for a thoughtful moment. “Then why are you falling for Ann Richardson?”

“I want to strangle Ann Richardson.”

“You want to kiss her senseless first.”

Raif didn’t deny it. “That’s got nothing to do with romance. It’s lust.”

There was no way Raif would give credence to the Gold Heart curse. Mallik’s young fiancée had simply changed her mind, and his cousin Aimee was better off with her replacement groom, Jacx.

“You sure?”

“Completely.” Raif was a healthy man, and Ann was a stunningly beautiful woman. There would be something wrong with him if he didn’t want to ravish her. It had nothing to do with any missing statue.

“You step too far over the line, and they’ll deport you,” Tariq warned.

“I won’t step over the line.”

Tariq coughed out a laugh. “We’re in America. You can’t even see the line.”

“I’ll be fine. You should go. I don’t want you getting any more caught up in this.”

“Fine with me.” Tariq stepped back. “I know a great little club on Fifth Avenue. Fine music, great cognac, gorgeous women. Don’t wait up.”

“I never do,” Raif responded, his mind already moving on to what he’d say and do when Ann showed up.

The next sound he heard was Tariq leaving the suite and the whir of the private elevator as it descended.

He waited ten minutes, then moved to an alcove in the living room to wait for Ann, choosing a spot where he wasn’t in the line of sight from the door.

A few minutes later, as planned, a butler showed her in, seating her at the main furniture grouping in the center of the large room. Raif waited until the butler left, and until she began glancing around with curiosity, before he stepped out of the shadows to reveal himself.

At his first movement, Ann came to her feet. “Hello. Mr. Oswald? I’m—”

“Hello, Ann.” He moved toward her.

“Raif? What?” She glanced behind her. “I’m supposed to meet—”

“Leopold Oswald. Yes, I know.”

The confusion grew on her face. “He’s interested in auctioning some of his paintings.”

Raif came to a halt in front of her. “I’m afraid not.”

“Did he change his mind? Don’t tell me you said something to him? Raif, you can’t—”

“Think about it, Ann.” He gave her a moment. “Leopold was never part of the equation.”

She stopped, eyes narrowing. He could see her catching on.

“I was supposed to meet Roark,” Raif helpfully added. “You were supposed to meet Leopold....” He waited for her to fill in the blanks.

“Leopold’s not coming.”

“Give the woman a gold star.”

“You lied to me. Or somebody with a very convincing German accent lied to me.”

“Just like you lied to me,” he told her softly.

“I thought Roark would be in Santa Monica,” she said, perpetuating the lie.

Raif scoffed his disbelief. “You booked the reservation. You paid for three nights at the hotel.”

She gave up the pretense. “Okay, you weren’t supposed to find out that part.”

“No kidding.”

“I had to get you out of my hair. This is a critical time for Waverly’s, a critical time for my career.”

“So, you’re saying there can be times when it’s justifiable to lie?”

“When you’re in the right, yes.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Then you’ll understand what I’m about to do.”

She stilled, then took a half step back, suspicion evident in her tone. “What are you about to do?”

“I’m going to call Roark Black and offer to make a trade.” He pulled out his phone. “Consider yourself kidnapped, Ann.”

She blinked once, then a second time. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Raif just smiled, while she obviously struggled to put the pieces together.

Predictably, she went for the suite door.

“There’s a guard standing right outside. He’s Rayasian. Very loyal to me.”

She stumbled a step, but kept going, opening the door wide, coming face-to-face with six-foot-four, two-hundred-sixty-pound Ali Geensh. Ali scowled down at her.

Ann gave a little jump and quickly closed the door.

She scrambled in her purse for her cell phone.

In three strides, Raif was whisking it from her hands. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure how I’d get hold of Roark’s private number.” Raif pressed a key on her phone. “I trust it’s in your contact list?”

“Give that back.” She tried to snatch it away.

He held it out of her reach. “Don’t waste your effort.”

“You have no right—”

“Neither did you. I flew all the way across the country, and then all the way back again. I think you lost the moral high ground three days ago, Ann.”

“I didn’t break any laws.”

“That help you sleep better at night?”

“I sleep just fine.”

“So will I.” Raif scrolled through Ann’s contact list, finding Roark’s number. He pressed the dial button.

She frowned. “I’ve left him a dozen messages.”

“Not like this you haven’t,” Raif responded as Roark’s voice mail greeting played through.

“Roark,” said Raif. “It’s Prince Raif. I have Ann. Call me.”

Her eyes went round. “They’ll arrest you. Truly, Raif. This is really kidnapping.”

“They won’t arrest me.” To start with, he had no intention of getting caught. He wanted the statue, and from what he’d read and heard, Roark would do what he had to do to save Ann.

“You’re holding me hostage and ransoming me. How on earth do you expect this to end?”

“I expect to end with Roark bringing me my Gold Heart.”

“Along with the SWAT team. Call him back, Raif. Shut this down. Let me go.”

Raif shook his head. “You had your chance to do this the honest way.”

“This is honest to God kidnapping, Raif. They’ll throw you in jail for twenty years.”

Raif scoffed. “At worst, they’ll deport me. And since Rayas is one of the only politically stable sources of rare earth minerals, they’ll get over my indiscretions awfully quick.” He tucked her phone securely into his suit jacket pocket. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

Her eyes narrowed in obvious confusion. “Figured out what?”

“Who I am. What I can do. I’m the crown prince of a foreign nation, Ann. I have diplomatic immunity. I can get away with anything.”

She swallowed convulsively. “Diplomatic...”

He clicked his jaw in pity. “You’re at my mercy now.”

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