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Viktor felt the color drain from his face. Not only was the egg priceless in terms of monetary and historical value, but it was a family heirloom he cherished.
“I will call the police,” said Agata.
“No. I will handle it. Don’t touch anything in my office. Go upstairs to the apartment and clean. When you’re done, go home. Tell no one. Do you understand?”
“The egg is…it’s…”
“I know, Agata. But what you need to remember is that the egg is mine. I will find and deal with whoever has taken it. You will keep silent. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, as she retreated to the elevator.
Viktor quickly pulled up the security footage from the cameras he had hidden in his office. No one knew they were there or how to access the footage they captured. He ran the recording back to just before he left and confirmed that the egg had still been in the protected case at that time. He watched carefully until the thief entered the office, used the key he kept hidden in a secret compartment in his desk and opened the case, removing the egg and slipping it into her purse.
He knew it was her because he recognized her. Emerson. There was no doubt about it—her red hair, her build, even the same clothes that had been upstairs since the first time they’d been together.
Reminding himself he had to breathe, he watched as she returned the key to its hiding place, picked up her bag, and returned to the elevator. From there he switched between cameras until he saw her exiting through the main lobby—the egg still in her purse. He spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing the tapes, trying to find some reason to doubt her guilt. There was none.
Viktor waited—the hours creeping by torturously slowly. When she sent a text asking about where and when to meet, he texted back suggesting one of the restaurants with a private bar down on the waterfront. Just before he was ready to leave, a call came up that there was a private messenger in the lobby. The messenger was shown to his office.
“Mr. Romanov. I’m the messenger you requested from Antwerp.”
The ring. This was the guy with Emerson’s engagement ring. “You have my package?”
“Yes, sir. I believe you will find the ring to be exquisite and an almost perfect match for the collar we made you some time ago.”
Viktor smiled. “So, you recognized the significance of the necklace?”
“Yes, sir. We make it our business to know our clients and anticipate their needs. The jewels in the ring are an exact match for those in the collar. I think you will be pleased.”
Viktor took the box and pocketed it without looking. “I’m sure I will be. May I offer to put you up here at the club or at one of the city’s better hotels?”
The man grinned and looked as if Viktor had just handed him the keys to the candy store. “I would very much like to stay here. I’m not a practitioner, but the lifestyle fascinates me. Just to be in the lounge of the Carriage House and to stay here would be an honor.”
Viktor nodded. “Head back downstairs. I’ll have someone meet you and act as your guide for the evening. Unfortunately, I have a previous engagement, which I cannot break.”
“Understood, sir, and thank you.”
“My pleasure,” said Viktor, shaking the man’s hand.
So, he had Emerson’s ring. He tried to think of it as just the ring but couldn’t. It was hers, and she was his. He supposed he could make excuses that she’d been desperate for the money and had second thoughts about Ravenel Reliance accepting a loan from him—third-party intermediary or not.
Given her expertise in antiquities and artifacts, she had to have known if not exactly which imperial Fabergé egg it was, that at least it was one of them. Maybe she had spent the day trying to find a buyer. It didn’t really matter. He would recover the egg one way or another, and his beautiful, scheming fiancée would spend the rest of her life atoning for it.
Viktor made his way to the restaurant and asked for one of the private balcony rooms. When she walked in, she took his breath away. He had actually forgotten in just the space of a day how truly beautiful she was. She was wearing a strapless black and orchid print dress as she entered the room. She’d paired it with black beaded chandelier earrings and strappy black patent leather sandals. She reminded him of a painting, although Viktor couldn’t recall which one. She was stunning.
“Emerson,” he rumbled, feeling his groin tighten the way it always did when she entered a room.
“Viktor. This is gorgeous. My sisters and I have done happy hour downstairs, but never had the cache to get one of the exclusive rooms.”
“Wealth has its privileges. Kendra and Tegan are well?”
“Yes, and they are very grateful for your assistance. I wanted to be able to get all the details ironed out before I approached Toney.”
“I will handle Toney.”
“I would prefer to do that myself. Viktor, can we not talk business? Are you all right?”
“If you do not wish to talk about business,” he said coldly, “then I want you on your knees.”
