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Her parents were well versed in her high-end bartering system. While her father would prefer—in his own words—to just write the damn check for his transactions, Jewel held fast to the power of her unicorn theory. It was certainly panning out in this instance.
Slowly recovering, her mother said, “We’ve made numerous offers to Gian and Rose-Marie. They haven’t entertained a single one, despite it being fruitless to hold on to land they can’t do anything with unless they receive our consent.”
Jewel told her parents, “Bay researched a decanter of scotch I told her about, and the owner of it lives in Paris. I visited him while I was working on my Avenue des Lamond deal. He wants something other than money—and Scarlet also tracked down those possessions. It’s a little tricky, I’ll admit. But Mr. Angelini gave me his word that if I can get him the scotch he’d accept my cash offer and sell his portion of the property to us. So … surprise!”
Jewel’s heart thumped a bit fast, because it was a mishmash of wily deals. But she had to believe the incongruent pieces would all fall into place.
“I’m impressed,” her father said. “Though you realize Gian will never follow through. He’ll find a way to keep the scotch and the land.” Anthony picked up his paper and went back to reading.
Jewel’s stomach plummeted. She pushed her plate aside. It really wasn’t like her father to give up so quickly.
Then again, he knew Gian better than Jewel ever would.
“Now, Jewel,” her mother said, patting Jewel’s hand. “You know how proud your father is of your acquisitions. But this is Gian Angelini you’re talking about. He’ll do anything to twist the knife, even if it means baiting you and walking away with all the cards still in his hand.”
Frustration tore through her. So, too, did the burning desire to prove her parents wrong. Because she’d executed some amazing transactions in her six years at CE, with men as powerful as Gian Angelini. Sure, she’d learned a few painful lessons along the way. Not every contract had been signed. Not every “original” treasure had been acceptably authenticated by her specialists. Yet she still had a fantastic track record to give her the confidence that she could pull off this deal with Gian.
She lifted her chin a notch and asked, “If I can make this happen, would you two deed the property to me? Outside of the living trust?”
The paper crinkled as her father returned it to the table. “What’s your sudden interest in that land?”
“It’s not so sudden. Just something that seemed too far out of my reach to attempt. Then the girls found the scotch for me, and now I want to pursue this.”
In an uncharacteristically tight tone, her mother asked, “What would you do with all that acreage, Jewel?”
“I want to build an inn. A big, beautiful inn, with event lawns for weddings and parties. And an award-winning golf course. I’ve already made inquiries with Jack Nicklaus’s people. In fact, I took all the specs on the land that you collected, Daddy, and gave them to an architectural firm I selected to design the inn.”
“Jewel,” her mother said on a long, dramatic breath. Much more her custom. “You’re creating a dream around property you’ll never own. Gian won’t—”
“Perhaps he won’t follow through,” Jewel’s father repeated. Then added, “But if he does … if you can reach terms with him, Jewel, that land is yours. All yours.”
Now her heart launched into her throat. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. She could see from her father’s steely gaze that he wasn’t humoring her. He’d always admired her verve, and Jewel knew she’d impressed him with this latest ambition. Enough so that he’d reward her greatly if she succeeded.
Well, that—and he likely relished the idea of severing the last tie with the Angelinis.
Jewel didn’t want that to be the end result. Rather, she hoped her plans would bridge the gap between the Catalanos and the Angelinis. But that was a whole missing piece to the puzzle that she had to work on. After she’d gotten her hands on that land.
Jumping up from the table, she kissed her mother again, then her father. “Thanks, Daddy. You won’t be disappointed.”
* * *
Vin was in a shitty mood as he turned into the bustling parking lot of Bristol’s on the opposite end of the aisle that Jewel’s sparkling, powder-blue convertible BMW entered at the same time. They both spotted the SUV backing out of the spot—the only one available on this side of the building. She switched on her turn signal. Vin ignored it. The SUV blocked her, and Vin pulled into the coveted space.
Jewel whaled on the horn. He glanced at her over his shoulder, out of the side of his convertible Maserati, and grinned. She flipped him off.
With a chuckle, he killed the engine and climbed out. She drove off and rounded the facility in search of another spot. He waited for her at the main door.
When she eventually stalked toward him, looking hotter than hell with blistering irritation and wearing a lavender strapless minidress, she said, “Didn’t you see my blinker?”
“Sorry, no.”
She scowled. “And God forbid you’d do the manly thing and let me have the space.”
“I don’t exactly consider that manly. Gallant, sure. But that’s not really up my alley, is it? That’s more Rogen’s thing.”
Shaking her head, she said, “You’re getting a kick out of antagonizing me.”
“Who slapped who?” he countered.
