He pats his mistress’s thigh. She’s a platinum blonde in a short skirt with very long nails. “I bought Gwynne a bracelet recently. Cost me a fortune, but I think you’ll agree that it was worth every dollar. Show it to Miss Barone, Gwynne.”
The mistress turns pale. She hesitates and then undoes the clasp on her bracelet, handing it to me with a nervous smile.
I take the piece and examine it. The bracelet has a beautiful gold setting that was made with a great deal of expense and care, but the rubies make me pause. They’re all pinkish red instead of the classic stoplight red, and there’s not one flaw in any of them. They’re too perfect. Type II gems like rubies often have tiny inclusions.
I cast a surreptitious glance at the mistress. Sweat is shining on her brow, and she’s white-knuckling her hands in her lap. From the woman’s reaction to me studying the stones, my guess is that at some point this bracelet contained authentic rubies, but someone replaced them with lab-grown stones. Mr. Cattaneo is beaming at me, and I hate to think how his expression would change if I told him the stones are fake. At best, he’ll dump his mistress. At worst, he might hurt her. Ariana’s nasty warning that a woman is at a man’s mercy is ringing in my ears.
I pass the bracelet back to her with a smile. “It’s a beautiful bracelet, Mr. Cattaneo. You made an excellent purchase.”
Mr. Cattaneo looks happy, the mistress looks relieved. The mistress’s affections have no doubt been secured for a long time by the rubies she pawned.
I present the final set with extra care, speaking in detail about the marquise-cut canary diamonds haloed by round-cut clear diamonds. The set includes a necklace, earrings, ring, and bracelet. I saved the best for last.
“This set is my personal favorite,” I say, touching my fingertips to the diamonds at my throat. “Elegant, unique, and the canary diamonds are exceptional quality.”
“The lady has good taste,” Mr. Dimitriou tells me, and I give him a polite smile before looking away.
Damiano is staring at me, his mouth parted. It’s the way he looks at me when he thinks no one is watching, but right now, we’re in a room full of people. I widen my eyes at him slightly to tell him to pull himself together, but he doesn’t get the message.
“Let’s get on with it, Barone,” Cristiano prompts him when he’s been silent for several minutes. “I want to bid on these.”
Damiano looks around the room and then back at me. “There’s been a mistake. These pieces aren’t for sale.”
I frown at my brother. There was nothing in the notes about that.
“You’re kidding. Why not?” Cristiano asks.
“Because I want them for Lucy.”
Dad clears his throat. “Damiano, I told you that I want all these pieces to sell at auction tonight.”
“I know. I’ll buy them.”
I stare at my brother. Why is he doing this?
Cristiano isn’t done arguing with him. “It’s only fair to put them in the auction now we’ve seen them.”
A muscle tics in Damiano’s jaw, but he smiles at Cristiano. “Of course. The bidding starts at…?” He looks expectantly at me.
“Seventy-five thousand,” I reply.
“Thank you,” Damiano says. “I’ll make the opening bid. Two hundred thousand.”
Cristiano’s eyes flare in anger, but other than that, he’s as still as stone. The seconds tick past in silence.
Damiano glances around the room. “No other bids? Then I’ll consider myself the winner. Thank you everyone for comingtonight. I’ll have your pieces delivered to you as soon as your payments have cleared or cash has been handed over.”
I take a quick glance at Dad, wondering if he’s happy about how tonight went. I spoke intelligently and in detail about every piece, and I was able to answer all questions. I haven’t been keeping track of the bids, but I think we’ve made more than Damiano’s targeted three million, even without his impulsive two-hundred-thousand-dollar bid.
Dad is gripping the arms of his chair, and he looks tense and displeased, and my insides shrivel up. I know he’ll never love me like he loves Damiano, but what do I have to do to convince him I’m a valuable asset to this family? I’m starting to believe that it’s impossible.
I head back to the bedroom, and Damiano follows me.
As soon as we’re alone, like a starving man, he pulls me into his arms and presses kisses to my throat. “I’ve never seen you like that before. You had the whole room wrapped around your little finger. You were magnificent.”
I twine my arms around his neck and smile. I’m happy, and Damiano is happy, even if Dad isn’t. “I’m glad I could help, and I hope we can do it again sometime. All the time. I hate being parted from you.”
“I hate being parted from you too.”
