The Prince Next Door. Sue Civil-Brown

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ in serving dishes—scampi, pasta primavera, ravioli stuffed with Portobello mushrooms, and garlic bread, she and Ariel paraded into the dining area with the offerings.

      “I hope,” said Darius, standing near the table, “that the selections please you.”

      “Oh, definitely,” Serena said, managing a bright smile. At least he’d turned off that thousand-watt smile of his. It had settled into a pleasant curve of his very pleasant mouth.

      After the women had finished placing the dishes on the table, Darius held their chairs out for them, Serena’s first. That was an old-world courtesy, so old that Serena had actually forgotten men could do such things.

      Ariel’s gaze seemed to say, And you think this guy is a drug dealer?

      Serena felt herself blushing, faintly, she hoped. Damn her fair complexion. Maybe she should bake in the sun, set herself up for melanoma, and make sure the world could never again see her cheeks pinken.

      When they were all seated, Darius apologized again. “I really was unforgivably late. But like an idiot, I decided to go to this small mom-and-pop restaurant where they have the most wonderful Italian cuisine, and I totally forgot about rush hour across the drawbridges.”

      Serena smiled politely. “It’s all forgiven. The food smells wonderful. Don’t you have to deal with rush hour?”

      A clue, she thought. She had to deal with rush hour, as did every other upstanding American, except perhaps the president.

      “Well, not usually,” he admitted as he passed the scampi. “My job has rather irregular hours.”

      “Oh?” She lifted her brows at him, then scooped a small portion onto her plate before passing the dish to Ariel.

      “I’m an art dealer, as I said,” Darius explained smoothly. Maybe too smoothly. “I’m working on a project in St. Petersburg right now. A new gallery is opening, centered on the works of Mateus Davilla.”

      Ariel perked up. “Like the Dali Museum?”

      “Yes, like that.” He smiled at her. “The gallery is very well funded by a collector, and I’ve been scouting for some additional paintings for them. Some of Davilla’s works have been missing since World War II. I’ve managed to find a few of them, along with a truly priceless collection of his charcoal sketches. But there are some provenance issues I need to work on while I continue to scout. At present, I have reason to believe a number of Davilla’s works are here in the U.S.”

      “So you’re based here for a while?” Ariel asked.

      “Yes, until my project is finished.”

      So he was a drifter, Serena thought, stuffing her mouth. Then the flavor hit her and astonishment filled her. “My goodness, that’s the best scampi I’ve ever had!”

      Darius grinned at her. “So maybe getting stuck at the drawbridge was worth it.”

      Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t resist that smile. As the scampi warmed her stomach, that smile warmed every inch of her, including the cockles of her heart.

      “It sounds like an exciting job,” Ariel said.

      “It is,” Darius agreed, turning to her and releasing Serena from his thrall. “Well, to be fair, most of the time it’s terribly routine. I breathe a lot of dust in old archives chasing clues. But occasionally…well, there have been a few times when it’s been rather dangerous. One doesn’t always know who one is dealing with, and some of these paintings are stolen, so…” He shrugged, a very European gesture. “I’ve met a few thugs in my day.”

      Like the one outside his door, Serena thought. She wished she had the nerve to ask him about it. Then it struck her that she did. “I was concerned about that man who let himself into your apartment yesterday. I’m glad it was all right.”

      Darius shook his head. “As it happens, it was merely a nuisance.”

      “But…you say you’ve met thugs. Why didn’t you let me call the police?”

      There, it was out, the question that had been plaguing her.

      He tilted his head, studying her, as if reading her mind. “Sometimes unsavory characters merely want to sell me a painting. Other times…well, I know how to deal with them.”

      “Oh!” Ariel exclaimed, looking as thrilled as any teen faced with her idol. “Do you carry a gun?”

      For an instant he looked shocked. “Never!” he said firmly. “Not ever. I realize you Americans depend on them, but I was raised in a different culture. I tend to believe that guns only elicit greater violence.”

      Serena heartily agreed with him on that point, and felt herself thinking she might actually be able to like this man. How unfortunate, when he was probably just feeding her a pack of lies. Very good lies, but lies, nonetheless. Lies that could provide an excuse for all the unsavory characters that might come to his door.

      Hmmm.

      The evening light that poured through the sliding glass doors began to grow golden. The glow it cast through the living-dining areas was almost surreal, as if the room were under a spell.

      “I wish,” Darius said unexpectedly, “that I had an ounce of artistic talent.”

      “Why’s that?” Ariel asked.

      “I’d love to be able to capture this light.”

      “Did you want to be an artist when you were little?”

      He nodded. “I most certainly did. I grew up surrounded by fine art, and was given every opportunity and a lot of very expensive lessons. Nothing helped. I can identify masterworks, but I’ll never paint one.” Then he laughed. “Oh, well. At least I spend my life looking at the things I love most. Not many can say that.”

      Serena was beginning to believe him. She didn’t want to believe him. It would ruin her entire vacation, not to have a criminal living next door. Nonetheless, her suspicions were falling away like dead leaves. If this man wasn’t exactly what he said he was, then he deserved every acting award in the universe.

      But still nagging at her was that threatening statement: We have your mother.

      AFTER DINNER they moved out onto her balcony to watch the sun set over the water. Serena served Tia Maria in liqueur glasses along with Blue Mountain coffee. Between that, the wine they’d had with dinner, and the soothing glow of the sunset, Serena felt…delightfully buzzed.

      The evening breeze was just warm enough to be delightful. The passing of the storm had left the air surprisingly dry, creating the kind of evening that made Serena want to close her eyes, let her head fall back and feel her hair toss gently.

      “I love the wind,” she said impulsively. “Gentle or fierce, it always gives me such a feeling of freedom.”

      “I love it, too,” Ariel said. “It makes me feel as if I could fly.”

      Darius said nothing. Curious, Serena turned to him. He appeared lost in thought, not necessarily of the happiest kind. Maybe he wasn’t completely indifferent to that threat made СКАЧАТЬ