Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Dumbfounded, I merely nod.
He turns toward the briefcase and discreetly keys in a combination before producing a silver key from his pocket. Once both locks are disengaged, the briefcase pops open, revealing a black velvet tray with two dozen stones evenly spaced in four neat rows. Though they vary in type—diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires—they’re all absolutely enormous.
“I’ve gathered for you today a collection of heirloom stones as well as uncut gems, and I assure you once you pick your favorite from among them, our masters at Leclerc & Co. will get right to work on customizing your one-of-a-kind engagement ring.”
I step closer and peer down into the briefcase, momentarily mesmerized by the light bouncing off the gems. The contents of this briefcase could fill an entire Smithsonian exhibit. I shudder to think of their combined worth—no wonder there are two armed guards near the door. I wouldn’t be surprised to find more stationed out in the hall.
I lean down, inspecting a diamond that would cover the entire width of my ring finger.
“Ah, the lady has good taste. That’s an emerald-cut white diamond, weighing ten and a half carats with a provenance that can be traced back to Prince Rainier and Grace Kelly, originally found in a ring made by Cartier.”
“And this one?” I ask, pointing to a pale blue stone.
“That is the Blue Moon Diamond. It’s a flawless thirteen-carat vivid blue diamond. Discovered in India in 1703, it was then purchased by French royalty. It has enjoyed a long history of use as a crown jewel. It has graced Louis XV’s coronation crown and the scepter of Napoleon III.”
“Beautiful,” I say, standing back up and looking at him rather than the rings. “They all are. Who did you say sent you?”
He adjusts his stance as if somewhat flustered by my shift in conversation.
“Mr. Mercier.”
“The father or son?”
His eyebrows furrow. “Frédéric.”
“I see.”
I step away from the briefcase and offer Eugene a tight smile. “I do appreciate you allowing me the pleasure of viewing these stones today, and though I hate to leave you with a task, I do think it would be more fitting to have the younger Mr. Mercier, Emmett, choose from among them.”
“Of course.” Nodding with understanding, he walks swiftly toward the briefcase and closes it securely once again. “It’s no trouble at all. I understand the appeal of doing things the old-fashioned way. I’ll set up an appointment with Mr. Emmett Mercier right away. Now, if you’ll excuse us, my men and I will be on our way.”
They vacate my hotel suite smoothly, one security guard positioned on each side of Eugene.
Already, there’s a pit in my stomach. The pleasure of my morning is gone now, replaced with worry over what Emmett will do once he receives that case. He probably doesn’t even know about it, not if his father was the one to send the jeweler here today, never mind the intrusion on my privacy. I’m sure my grandmother was all too happy to inform Frédéric where I’d be this weekend.
Determined to continue my day as planned, I grab my purse and head for the hall.
The wait for the elevator is long, but when I step on, I’m blessedly alone. I ride the whole way down with only my reflection in the mirrored walls to contend with.
The doors open to a cacophony of noise down in the lobby. I pass more than a few familiar faces and smile at them as I pass. It seems everyone who was here for the fundraiser last night is checking out of the hotel and heading home at this precise moment.
I bypass the madhouse and rush out into the crisp autumn air to join the taxi line. With it being so close to the hotel’s official checkout time, the line is slightly longer than I expected, though I’m sure it’ll move fast. The sidewalk is bustling with people toting their luggage out of the hotel. Bellmen rush around, attempting to direct the flow of traffic and offload bags from tired guests. A sleek black Range Rover pulls up to the curb, blocking the taxi lane and eliciting curses from the people in front of me in line.
“These drivers think they can just park wherever the hell they want!”
Impatient taxi drivers add to the noise, laying on their horns with gusto.
“What’s goin’ on?!” one shouts to a hotel attendant trying to appease the crowd.
The attendant waves at him to calm down. “We got some special guest leavin’. Should just take a minute.”
At hearing this, we all turn collectively to watch as a small entourage of people exit the front entrance of the hotel. I suspect it to be Eugene and his briefcase at first. No doubt they’d require special treatment like this, but then I see two hotel attendants carrying luggage, a bodyguard bringing up the rear, and then…Emmett walking alongside Miranda, cutting across the sidewalk like he owns the world.