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The king’s voice was sharp. “The Aristan diamond is priceless. I do not want you poking at it and picking at it and—”
“It’s a fake!” Her words seemed to explode in the confines of the small room. She looked up, horrified. “This half of the Stefani diamond. What’s supposed to be the Stefani diamond. It isn’t a diamond at all.”
The king’s already pale face went paper-white. He shot to his feet. “Give me the crown!”
“Sir. The stone is a fake. Cubic zirconium. Or something else. It’s an excellent forgery but …” God, she was shaking like a woman with a high fever! “Your Majesty. I have some tools in my workshop. I can do some tests but I am sure—”
“Give me the crown!” Aegeus roared. He snatched it from her and stuffed it into the velvet bag, but suddenly his eyes grew wide and his face lost what little color it had. A strangled sound broke from his throat; he clapped his hand to his heart, the bag fell on the table and the king tumbled back into his chair.
Maria leaped to her feet, ran to the door and flung it open. “Help!” she shouted. “Please, someone help! The king’s collapsed!”
At once, the seemingly empty corridor swarmed with people. Maria fell back against the wall. Someone scooped everything from the table—the loupe, the flashlight and the velvet bag—dumped them into her leather tote, thrust the tote at her, then grasped her arm, hurried her out of the palace and to Alex’s waiting limousine.
It wasn’t until she was back at the guesthouse that she realized the crown of Aristo had gone home with her.
What did you do when you had absconded with a royal crown?
Maria sat at her workbench, staring blindly at the crown as she tried to come to grips with all that had happened today. The wrenching realization that she was pregnant. The horrifying discovery that the half of the Stefani diamond in the Aristan crown was not a diamond at all and then, the king’s collapse.
Was Aegeus dead? Had her news killed him?
She’d phoned the palace. Useless. She had the private telephone number of the queen’s personal secretary but reached only her voice mail. Desperate for diversion, she’d filled the time running tests on the pink stone in the crown, praying all the while that her initial judgment had been wrong.
She’d done a dozen tests, everything from the silly—did the stone fog when she blew on it?—to the absolutely, completely scientific.
She’d used an electronic tool called a diamond tester. She’d brought it out last, as if by holding off she could avoid the truth. The tester had been one of the things she’d brought with her from New York; she hadn’t even been aware she had it with her until now.
The thing was a complex piece of equipment but it was simple to operate. Turn it on, touch the probe at one end of it to a stone. If the stone was a real diamond, a green light came on. If it wasn’t…
If it wasn’t, nothing happened.
Nothing had happened, half a dozen times.
Maybe the tester wasn’t working. That had been her hope.
So she’d touched the probe to every white diamond in the crown. To the diamonds in Tia’s almost-completed necklace. To the two big pink stones she’d taken to the palace.
The green light blinked on each time.
Then she’d touched it to the pink stone in the Aristan crown. Please, she’d prayed, please let the green light come on.
It didn’t.
The stone was a brilliant, beautiful fake. It would fool anybody. Anybody but an expert.
Still, maybe she was wrong. Maybe she’d missed something. Was there a test she’d forgotten? Anything was possible, she told herself, and reached for the phone.
Far across the ocean, Joaquin answered on the first ring. “Maria,” he said happily, on hearing her voice. “¿Como se va? Sela was just saying—”
“Joaquin. I need your help.”
He was not a GG—a Graduate Gemologist—as she was. The degree had cost her a small fortune; she was still carrying the debt. But his depth and breadth of knowledge was excellent, and she knew she could trust him with this devastating news. She told him what she’d discovered. Described the tests she’d run. Their conversation grew complex, touched on things like heating, magnification, trigons and dodecahedral surfaces of octahedral crystal formations and then, finally, she took a deep breath and told him she’d used a diamond tester. And the stone had failed that final test.
“You’re sure the tester is working properly?”
“I checked the battery. And it gave a green light, literally, to a couple of dozen diamonds, pink and white.”
“But not this one.”
“No,” Maria said, “not this one.”
Joaquin’s sigh drifted through the telephone. “I don’t envy you, chica. You are about to be the bearer of very bad news for someone.”
She gave a sad little laugh. “I’m afraid I already am.”
“Call me if you need me. Sela says to tell you she can do without me for a few days. We both love you, you know that.”
She smiled. “Doing without you, even for a few days, is impossible. I love you, too, Joaquin. With all my—”
“How cozy.”
Maria spun around. Alexandros stood in the doorway, arms folded, legs apart, face stony and cold.
“Alexandros! I didn’t hear you come in.”
“No. Obviously not. Don’t let me interrupt you, Maria. Not when you’re in the middle of an obviously important call.”
She said a quick “goodbye” to Joaquin and hung up the phone. Then she slid from the stool and went to her lover. He didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Didn’t react at all when she put her hand on his arm.
“Your father—”
“I know all about my father.”
“Is he—is he—”
“He’s in the hospital. He had a heart attack.” Alex’s mouth narrowed. “Thanks to you.”
“I never meant—”
“What did you say to him? Did you perhaps tell him you were sleeping with me even though you miss your lover in New York?” His mouth twisted. “No. Why would you do that when you’ve been so careful to hide that information from me?”
“Alexandros. Listen to me. I don’t have—”
“Liar!” He caught her by the shoulders, his hands rough on her tender flesh, and drew her to her toes, just as he had after their first night together. “It’s the same man you were talking to that morning three months ago.” When she said nothing, his face contorted. “Answer me, damn you! Admit it.”
“I was talking with Joaquin, yes. But—”
“Can’t you do without him for another few days?”
“Alexandros.” Her voice broke. “You’re wrong about him.”
“I was wrong about you, you mean.”
“I told you, Joaquin works for me. He’s married.”
“What would that matter to a woman like you?”
Maria felt the insult like a knife to the heart. She jerked free of his hands, her face white, eyes glittering with tears.
“I don’t deserve that,” she whispered.
Yes, he thought, she did. She deserved that and more. He had taken her to his bed. Held her in his arms as she slept.