Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Fabien
An hour later, Nicolette and I walk hand in hand along the Seine.
Near the metro station, facing Quai Saint-Bernard, we stroll past Le Jardin des Plantes, the Parisian botanical gardens.
Many tourists like to visit here, as it features a museum of natural history as well as a zoo and tropical hothouse.
Nicolette is all about the gardens, though. Sometimes I wonder if she’s part fairy.
An open-air sculpture museum catches her attention as well, as dancers have begun to practice.
“We could pretend to be salsa dancers,” she whispers to me.
I imagine dancing with her, warmed under the sun’s brilliant rays to the tune of lively music.
Nope. We don’t have that luxury, not now. “Stick to the plan, Nicolette.”
She heaves a dramatic sigh. “If you say so.”
The sun shines like a consecration, as if the universe itself doesn’t know who we are and what we’re about to do.
Nicolette is magically six inches taller than she was, a buxom blonde, wearing snug designer jeans and silver platform heels. She went to town using the jewelry and makeup, and had to nearly beat me off her when I tried to have a quickie before we left.
I’m masquerading as her husband, a jewel dealer from England with a shaggy mop of hair, thin, wire-rimmed glasses, chinos, and a dress shirt.
We had to leave through the back door to make sure Maman didn’t see us, but Thayer caught us in the driveway. He watched us leave while shaking his head.
“That wig will leave a red mark if you leave it on too long!” he finally shouted at me as I pulled out of the driveway in a red Corvette. “We have a wedding in a few hours, Fabien.”
We parked the car and decided to take a walk.
“The mission, if you choose to accept it,” Nicolette whispers to me, “is to walk into Auclair’s and leave with one diamond tennis bracelet and a jewel-encrusted ring.”
“Easy,” I say with an eye roll. “Make it harder.”
“Alright, then,” she says. “Come out with a job offer, too.”
“Oooh, now that seems a bit more challenging, doesn’t it? On it.”
We Parisians like the open air, and it comes as no surprise that Nicolette is especially drawn to the bouquinistes, featuring every kind of book one could imagine.
I decide to test her skills, to see how well she plays her role. We pause at one of the green stalls that line both banks of the Seine. They’re weather-worn and faded, as if they grew alongside the Seine itself, watered by the flowing water.
“I love how many bookstores there are,” she whispers.
“There’s good reason they call the Seine the river that runs between two bookshelves. So tell me, Antoinette,” I say, clearly enunciating each word in an English accent. “What are you reading these days?”
“Oh,” she says with a pretty, tinkling laugh, getting the attention of the stall owner, an older woman with an abundance of steel-gray hair and spectacles perched on the edge of her nose. “You know.” She drops her voice to a low register. “All the sordid romance.”
“Ah, do you, then?” the woman asks Nicolette in French. “A woman of exquisite tastes.” She gives Nicolette a bold wink. “And I daresay the husbands like when my customers read the romance, no?”
She pulls a small hardcover book off a shelf and shows it to Nicolette. “See this one? Such a plain cover, not a word on it. But let me tell you, this one will light a fire under you.”
“Ooh, you’ve piqued my interest,” my fake wife croons. “How much?”
They quibble over the price until Nicolette finally agrees.
“Merci beaucoup!” she says, waving as we leave the store.
“Oh, no need to thank me now. He’ll be thanking me later.”
“Excellent,” I mutter. “Your first disguise and you have to pretend to be a disgruntled wife? Like I can’t get it up?” I grimace.
“She was the one that made that assumption, to be fair,” Nicolette says with a smirk.
“Still, I did my job.” I open my jacket to reveal a second book tucked surreptitiously inside.
“Fa—Henrique,” she whispers. “You didn’t! Not from that little old woman. How could you?”
I roll my eyes. “Relax. I’ll slip her a few euros later.”
“Deal.”
So she has scruples when it comes to stealing. “The elderly are off limits, then?”
“Of course!”
“What if the security guard you need to get past is an old man?”
“Well…” She does that thing where she furrows her brow. “I… Well, that’s different. It’s not his talisman.” She gives me a sidelong look. “Was this a test?”
“Of course.”
“Well. You passed,” she says with a pout.
“Let’s see how you do in the jewelry store.” I pull her onto a bench and slide my arm over the back of her neck. “Let’s talk about the stakes again. Two million dollars. My family’s reputation.”
Her eyes gleam and she nods. “I’m totally on this.”
“Of course you are. Keep in mind what your purpose is, and you’ll do fine.”
She gives me a fetching smile. “And so will you.”
We stand and head to the jewelry store.
It’s such a beautiful day, taking her shopping near the Seine feels as if we’re walking through a watercolor landscape.
Slender branches of leaves reach for the river, dappled shadows playing along the water’s surface.
The fresh, vibrant greenery dovetails seamlessly with the antiquated architecture.
I haven’t forgotten that she specifically wanted to go shopping in the Louvre and Tuileries district, where Auclairs, the oldest jewelry store in all of Paris, displays glimmering crystals and precious gems on velvet pillows in the windows.
I know this means something to her. When she talked about her perfect day, though, shopping here was only part of what she envisioned. I would hazard a guess that she rarely shops for herself.
That will change.
“I’m not the only one with a mission,” I say in her ear as we approach the entrance. I’m going to test her again, but in a way she never suspects.
“No?”
I shake my head briskly. “Your job is to spend ten thousand euros in there.”
“Henrique,” she hisses. “That’s—”
“More money than you’re comfortable spending. I know. It’s why I’m requiring it.”
I watch her pale. “Requiring it?”
“Yes,” I whisper in her ear as I lean in, adjusting her necklace. “You’re working for me. You know what I expect. You wanted a practice run and so do I. Prove to me I made the right choice hiring you.”
I know I did. I want to see what she does with this challenge.
When she pouts, a lock of blonde hair falls on her forehead. I reach over and tweak it.
“Stop pouting. Even adorable little blondes get spanked if they misbehave.”
“Oh, my.” Her cheeks flush pink and she bites her lip. I know it isn’t the threat of a spanking that’s got her flustered but the concept of spending that much money. I’ve watched her long enough to know she’s as frugal as they come.
“Fine, then. Ten thousand euros’ worth… okay, I can do this.”
I’m pushing her past her comfort zone on purpose. If we mess up our plans here, it’s an easy matter of calling in favors and escaping prosecution. In Corsica, however… the stakes are much higher.
A bell jangles on the glass door as we push it open.
I quickly scan the place. Three employees.
One in the way back, a middle-aged man with a pinched expression and a shitty hair piece, a younger woman in heels and a tight-fitting dress by the counter, and an elderly man I assume is the shop owner leaning over a table with a magnifying glass.
He’s intent on a watch in the palm of his hand and doesn’t notice us, but the other two do immediately.
“Ah, welcome,” the woman says. “What brings you two in today?”
“Hello,” Nicolette says brightly in French. “My husband and I are in Paris on vacation, and I’ve heard so many things about your shop I just had to come and pay a visit myself.”
I shove my hands in my pockets. “It isn’t a holiday if my wife doesn’t come home with something glittery and stunning. Our own collection isn’t enough.”
She rolls her eyes. “My husband’s a collector, but I love to have a souvenir of our travels.”
The woman smiles. “On holiday, then?”
“Yes and no. We’ve recently been thinking about relocating to Paris so we’re combining a vacation with looking into our options,” I say, a half-truth, but I don’t know how I’d get a job offer if I were only a tourist.
“I see.” Her gaze zones in on me. I know exactly how she’s going to play this angle.
“And what is it that you have in mind?” she asks Nicolette.
“Oh, I’m terrible at deciding. Maybe you can help?” She walks over to the glass display case in front of her and spreads her hands out wide. “You have so many more items than I thought.”
“Yes, it’s deceptive. We look so much smaller from outside.”
While they chatter about a collection of gold hoops and delicate charms, I stroll over to the diamond tennis bracelets.
I zone in on one in the center display, nestled on a sapphire velvet pillow.
“What can you tell me about this?” I ask the middle-aged man.
“Ah, a classic,” he says. “This would grace the wrist of any woman who wore it. Fifty-nine round brilliant-cut diamonds for a total of six carats set in white gold. A push-button clasp for one-hand ease.”
“May I see it, please?”
“Of course, sir.”
He takes it out and places it in front of me.
“Do you have any in rose gold? My wife prefers rose gold.”
He frowns. “Hmm. I’ll check. Just a moment, please.”
When he reaches for it, I pull back subtly. “I’d like to try the one-hand clasp, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
I pretend to be enamored with it while Nicolette joins me.
“They’ve got a set of pearl earrings and a matching necklace behind the counter, Henrique. They’re stunning. What have you found?”
I show her. “Let me see it on you.”
I clasp it around her wrist and kiss her cheek. I whisper in her ear, “It’s beautiful on you. You’ll wear this later tonight.”
“Deal.”
She holds out her arm to admire the bracelet’s diamonds, then unclasps it. I make a show of placing it back on the counter while we continue to peruse the displays in the store.
“How about a ring, my love?” I gesture for the woman to bring me a ruby ring.
“Look how gorgeous it is on your finger.”