Ponte Vecchio to realize this vision,” Nunzio said. “There are no other rings like these on earth—” He paused and smiled. “At this time.”
“Yes, of course. They’re the perfect prototype to launch your international jewelry line,” Breanne said, her tone all business again. “And your profile in Trend will be your introduction to a lucrative market in the United States.”
Nunzio set his empty espresso cup aside and rose from his chair. With a little smile he said, “May your marriage be blessed.”
Breanne thanked the sculptor and turned to Roman. “Take these,” she said, handing him the blue velvet box. “You’re as good as my best man, Roman, and I’d like you to watch over the rings until the ceremony.”
Roman smiled, obviously touched. He tucked the box into his lapel pocket. Like Puck making promises to his fairy queen, he crossed his heart with his pudgy hand.
“I’ll keep them with me at all times, my dear. I’ll guard them with my life.”
“I believe him,” Nunzio said with a laugh. Then he checked his watch. “Now I must go. Scusa, please.”
Breanne air kissed the artist. “Monica, show Nunzio to the elevators.”
“Yes, Ms. Summour.”
Before the young woman left, Bree caught Monica’s eye and smiled. “Good job on the pages.”
Monica’s tense expression registered relief. “Thank you.” She returned her boss’s smile then led Nunzio toward the door.
On his way out, the sculptor noticed me. “Arrivederci, signorina.”
“Buona permaneza,” I replied, telling him to enjoy his stay.
Monica continued into the hallway, but Nunzio slowed his steps until he’d stopped dead in front of me. Using two long fingers, he reached into his jacket’s breast pocket and brought out a cream-colored card. He held it out to me, his gaze holding mine until I took it. Then a half smile broke his intense mask, and he continued out the door.
Breanne didn’t miss the gesture. “What’s that he gave you?”
I shrugged. “Just his business card.”
Her eyebrow arched. “Let me see that.”
I handed her the small, flat rectangle. She examined it, flipped it over and laughed.
“What?” I asked.
“He asked me your name after you left the room. Then I watched him write something on one of his cards. It’s his hotel room number, Clare.”
“What?”
“At the Mandarin Oriental, about thirty floors up.”
“Good Lord. You keep it then. I have no intention of visiting the man in his hotel room. What does he think I am?”
She laughed again, slumping down in her chair as if the air had been let out of her. “You should be flattered. He obviously liked you as much as your espressos. Why not give him a whirl?”
Give him a whirl? Then and there I decided that Breanne Summour was the perfect mate for my ex-husband. Neither of them viewed sex as anything more meaningful than a carnival ride.
“I’m not going to the man’s hotel room,” I said, “because I’m in a relationship, and I don’t cheat.”
Breanne rolled her eyes. Clearly my morals, like my clothes, were far too bourgeoisie for her taste.
“Ms. Summour?” Terri was at the door, holding a package. “This was just delivered by courier. There’s no return address, but it’s marked ‘Wedding gift, open immediately.’ ”
“Bring it in,” she said. “Terri, would you like to see my rings?”
Terri nodded vigorously. Roman brought them out again.
“Ohmigod, they’re so beautiful!”
Bree and Terri talked for a minute about the rings, then her schedule, then some phone calls that had come in during her meeting with Nunzio.
“Terri, I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re a gem! I’m just sorry your promotion will have to wait a little longer.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m already making lists for article ideas. I’ll be ready to help out any of the section editors who want to work with me . . .”
As the two continued to talk, Roman examined the label on Breanne’s new gift. “Bree, sweetie, this gift says to open immediately. You might want to do that. What if it’s perishable? I mean, for heaven’s sake, it could be edible.”
“You open it then. I don’t want to break a nail.”
As Breanne sent Terri off to run an errand on another floor, Roman cut the tape with a letter opener and opened the cardboard box. Inside he found a long, slim package wrapped in glossy black paper. He pulled the gift card free and handed it to Breanne.
“It’s heavy,” he announced, tearing away the black paper. Roman opened the gift box and stared at the contents with puzzlement. “Odd gift for you,” he said, “seeing as