But the palace staff was another story. They watched her every move and minced no words when it came to their opinions on her behavior. Or her fashion sense. Or her hair.
Or her love life. They had plenty to say about that.
How on earth was she going to pull this off? What if her father came looking for her?
She sighed. She wasn’t going to think about that now. Besides, she was lost in the maze of pale blue and the sparkle of the diamond store. How would she find her way around New York when she couldn’t even manage to navigate the terrain of Drake Diamonds?
Every room looked the same. Row upon row of diamonds sparkled beneath gleaming glass. Chandelier earrings. Long platinum chains with dazzling pendants shaped like antique keys. Shiny silver bracelets with heart-shaped charms.
Engagement rings.
Aurélie looked around and realized she was surrounded by couples embracing, holding hands and clinking champagne flutes together while they gazed into one another’s eyes. Everywhere she turned, teary-eyed brides-to-be were slipping diamond solitaires on their fingers.
She felt oddly hollow all of a sudden. Numb. Empty.
Alone.
For some silly reason she remembered the feel of Dalton’s palm sliding against her own when they’d shaken on their deal. He had strong hands. The hands of a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. What he wanted right now was her secret egg, of course. She’d given it to him on a silver platter.
And now he was gone.
Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Again. Aurélie switched it off and removed the SIM card without bothering to look at the display. Without a SIM card, the GPS tracking on her iPhone wouldn’t work. At least she thought she remembered reading that somewhere.
She really should have had a better escape plan. Or at least a plan.
Her gaze snagged on a silver sign hanging on the wall with discreet black lettering. Will you? Welcome to the Drake Diamond Engagement Collection.
She rolled her eyes, marched straight to the elevator and jabbed at the down button with far too much force.
But as she waited, something made her turn and look again, some perverse urge to torture herself. Maybe she needed a reminder of why she’d fled Delamotte. Maybe she wanted to test herself to see if she could stand there in the midst of so much romantic bliss without breaking down. Maybe she’d simply left the vestiges of dignity back in her home country.
She stared at the happy couples, unabashed in their affection, and felt as though she were disappearing. Fading into the tasteful cream-colored wallpaper.
None of this is real, she told herself. She didn’t believe any of it for a minute.
She wanted to, though. Oh how she wanted to. She wanted to believe that happy endings were real, that love could last, that marriage was something more than just another transaction. A business deal.
A bargain.
But she didn’t dare, because believing the fairy tale would hurt too much. Believing would mean admitting she was missing out on something she’d never have. Something worth more than deep crimson rubies, cabochon emeralds and the entire collection of imperial Marchand eggs.
Why was the elevator taking so long? She pushed the button a few more times, yet still jumped in surprise when the chime signaled the elevator’s arrival. The doors swished open, and she half ran, half stumbled inside.
A hand caught her elbow. “Are you all right, miss?”
She blinked up at the elevator attendant dressed in a stylish black suit, pristine white shirt and a bowtie the same hue as the Windsor knot that had sat at the base of Dalton Drake’s muscular neck. Aurélie’s gaze lingered on that soft shade of blue as she remembered how perfectly Dalton’s silk tie had set off his strong jawline.
“I’m fine, thank you.” The elevator closed and began its downward descent, away from all those engagement rings and the quiet solitude of Dalton’s office.
The elevator attendant smiled. “Do you need help finding anything?”
Aurélie shook her head, despite the fact that she didn’t know the first thing about New York. She didn’t know how to hail a cab or ride the subway. She didn’t even have a single American dollar in her fancy handbag. She had a wallet full of euros, yet she wasn’t even familiar with the exchange rate.
But none of that mattered. She just wanted to get out of there.
Now.
Right around the time he was on the verge of losing his mind, Dalton spotted Aurélie on the outskirts of Central Park. She was standing beneath a portable blue awning at the corner of Central Park South and 59th Street, directly across the street from the Plaza Hotel. She was holding a dog. Not a hot dog, but an actual dog. Which for some reason only exacerbated the pounding in Dalton’s temples. The woman was impossible.
What had she been thinking? She didn’t want to be discovered, yet she’d walked right out the door. Unaccompanied. Unprotected. Undisguised. It was enough to give Dalton a coronary.
At least he’d been able to find her with relative ease. All told, it had only taken about a quarter of an hour. Still, those fifteen minutes had undoubtedly been the longest of Dalton’s life.
To top things off, a street musician had parked himself right outside the entrance of Drake Diamonds with his violin and his tip bucket. This marked the third time in less than a month that Dalton had ordered him to leave. Next time, he’d call the cops.
He squinted against the winter wind and shoved his bare hands into his trouser pockets. He’d been in a panic when he’d spun his way out of the store through the revolving door and onto the snowy sidewalk. Filled with dread and angry beyond all comprehension, he hadn’t even bothered to grab a coat, and now, three blocks later, he was freezing.
Freezing and absolutely furious.
He dashed across the street without bothering to wait for the signal at the pedestrian crossing, enraging a few cab drivers in the process. Dalton didn’t give a damn. He wasn’t about to let her out of his sight until he’d returned her safely to his office. And then...
What?
He wasn’t actually sure what he’d do at that point. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it. Right now he simply planned on escorting her back to his store on the corner of Fifth Avenue and 57th Street while administering a searing lecture on the dangers of disappearing without giving him any sort of notice whatsoever.
“Aurélie!” He jogged the distance from the curb to where she stood, still holding onto the damn dog.
She didn’t hear him. Either that, or she was intentionally ignoring him. It was a toss-up, although Dalton would have greatly preferred the former.
“Aurélie,” he said again, through gritted teeth, when he reached her side.
An older woman wearing a hooded parka and fingerless mittens stood next to her. There was a clipboard in her hands and a small playpen filled with little dogs yipping and pouncing on one another at her feet. The woman eyed Dalton, giving him a thorough once-over, and frowned.
“Oh good, you’re here,” Aurélie said blithely, without tearing her gaze from the trembling, bug-eyed dog in her arms.
It stared at Dalton over her shoulder. He stared back and decided it was possibly the ugliest dog he’d ever set eyes on. Its pointed ears were comically huge, which might have been endearing if not for the googly eyes that appeared to be looking in two completely different directions. And it had a wide, flat muzzle. Not to mention the god-awful snuffling sounds coming from the dog’s smashed little face.
“Hello.”