Manolos in Manhattan (46 page)

Rhys opened the apartment door and began wheeling their suitcases – all six, four of them Natalie’s – out into the hallway. He glanced up, disgruntled, and saw an envelope taped to the door. It was hand-written and addressed to his wife.

He frowned and took it down. There was no return address. “Natalie,” he called out again as he thrust the envelope impatiently into his jacket pocket, “let’s go!”

“Honestly, Rhys, we’ve plenty of time.” Nat joined him, handbag on her arm and a cosmetics case in hand. “I’m moving a bit more slowly these days,” she reminded him, and glanced down at her full, rounded belly. “Besides, the flight doesn’t leave for ages yet.”

“Yes, but going through Security takes time. And you know what traffic’s like. Is that everything?”

She looked around her doubtfully. “I think so, yes.”

“Good. Let’s go. Oh, and before I forget,” he turned back and withdrew the envelope from his breast pocket “this was taped to the door. It’s addressed to you.”

“To me?” She took the envelope and stared at it quizzically. “How odd.” Frowning, she slid a finger under the flap and opened it. There was a single sheet of cream-colored stationery, embossed at the top with the Dunleigh crest.

My Dearest Natalie,

Have a safe return trip to London. I thoroughly enjoyed meeting you and your husband, Rhys. Let me know when the baby arrives so I can send the most lavish gift possible.

As requested, your father’s painting will be put up for auction at Christie’s next month. It’s expected to fetch between five and eight million dollars, but bids may go as high as ten million. I will keep you and your mother informed as to the outcome.

I’m more grateful than I can express that you declined to press charges against me. I stole your father’s painting, after all, in a moment of ill-considered madness that I will always regret. I am forever in your debt.

I will miss you, dear lady. Never lose that lovely smile, and always take time to devour those red-velvet cupcakes whenever they happen to cross your path.

Yours always,

Morris

“How lovely,” Natalie said, and smiled as she re-folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope. “Mr Holland says it was lovely to meet us and he wished us well.”

“I imagine he does,” Rhys grumbled, “seeing as he got away with stealing your father’s painting.”

“He returned it,” she pointed out, “
and
he saved me from Ian. If he hadn’t called the police, who knows what might have happened?”

“Yes, his quick thinking saved you, and for that I’m eternally grateful. But he committed a crime, Natalie, and he should be punished. I still don’t understand why he took it.”

Natalie sighed. “He loved his wife, Rhys – she was everything to him. And she cheated on him – with my father! He saw the painting when I took him through the apartment, and it must’ve dredged up all sorts of memories. He took that painting because he couldn’t bear to look at it.

“Didn’t you ever have a moment of madness, Rhys?” she asked softly as she paused by the door. “A time when your passion overruled your intellect, and you did something completely spontaneous and...crazy?”

“Yes, once,” he admitted. “But only once.”

“Really? And when was that?”

He let go of the suitcase handle and took her in his arms. “I married you,” he answered, and kissed her.

CARINA™

ISBN: 978 1 474 03077 9

Manolos in Manhattan

Copyright © 2015 Katie Oliver

Published in Great Britain (2015)

by Carina, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

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