Page 44 of Filthy Rich

“Good. Then you can follow my lead to my cabin for dinner tonight. Ten o’clock. You’ll have had time to tuck Mrs. Hooper into bed by then.”

I start to smile, but he flashes me a warning look.

“Don’t make me wait. And try to take a nap when we get back to the ship. I plan to spend the night making you come exactly like that, so you won’t be getting any sleep. Just so you know.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TAMSYN

“Well?” says Mrs. Hooper in her cabin during her med check that night at bedtime, her sweeping gesture encompassing the retail damage she’s done today. “What do you think?”

“It’s quite a haul,” I assure her. “Very impressive.”

“You’re right, honey. I’ve done myself proud.”

The two of us survey the bags, packages, boxes, tissue paper and ribbons strewn over every piece of furniture and a good part of the floor. All of Monte Carlo’s luxury brands seem to be represented. I see, at a glance, Hermes, Celine, YSL, Gucci, Louis Vuitton and Prada. She bought bags, scarves, jewelry, clothing, luggage, and a giant box of expensive Belgian chocolates that she keeps popping into her mouth. Even Juniper got an upgrade today and is the proud new owner of this year’s bedazzled pink dog collar courtesy of Chanel. The dog seems exhausted from her full day of retail therapy and has taken refuge under a pile of tissue paper on top of Mrs. Hooper’s bed. Only her black nose and the occasional glimpse of her big brown eyes are currently visible.

“I got souvenirs for all the kids,” she says, ticking items off on her fingers. “I got the watch for Marnie, the luggage for Duke and the little emerald ring for Daisy. Oh, I forgot to show that to you, didn’t I? It’s there on the nightstand. See that little bag from Cartier? Hand it here, honey.”

I find the bag and pass it over to her. She tears into it with the kind of glee that makes me wonder if she bought it for herself, opens the little velvet box and angles it for me to see.

“Oh, wow,” I say. “What a gorgeous emerald.”

“It’s a Colombian emerald in platinum,” she says fondly, using the corner of her sleeve to wipe a smudge off the gemstone. “It’s Daisy’s birthstone. Yours, too.”

“I know. I don’t know anything about Colombian emeralds, but that’s the greenest, brightest thing I’ve ever seen. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Well, we’ll find out in a few days, won’t we? When everyone shows up for my surprise birthday dinner.”

Whereupon she lifts the hem of her new lavender silk kimono and does a little spin over to the dressing table, where I’m waiting for her.

I watch her, my heart sinking. Not that again. Then I reach for the blood pressure cuff. “Will you kindly sit still for one minute so I can check you out?”

“You can’t blame an old girl like me for being excited, Tam,” she says, helping herself to another bonbon from her box. “It’s not every day that you turn eighty years old. And I can’t wait to see the kids.”

I open my mouth to set her straight, again, then shut it again without bothering.

Honestly, I’ve given up on trying to talk sense to her at this point. It’s a complete waste of breath, and it’s not like the ladies and I haven’t tried a million times already. Despite all evidence to the contrary, she remains absolutely convinced that her kids are going to suddenly show up over here in Europe for her birthday when they can’t even be bothered to walk a few blocks over and see her back home. She’s got her fantasy going, though, and I’ll never convince her otherwise. The poor thing will find out the truth soon enough.

Still, I can’t resist the urge to soften the blow for her. Just a tiny bit.

“I just hope you focus on having fun with your friends while we’re here,” I say, quickly taking her blood pressure. “That’s the main thing. I’m sure they’ll do something special for you on the ship. Maybe a cake or some flowers or something.”

“They’ll have a bigger extravaganza for me than that, Debbie Downer,” she says with an airy wave of her hand. “You mark my words.”

“Marked,” I say, glumly, as I take the blood pressure cuff off and another, worse thought hits me. Maybe this is a symptom of her cognitive decline. Not that she definitely has cognitive decline. It’s just that these incidents of confusion and delusion seem to be more frequent these days. There was that incident on the plane where she forgot I’d already given her her medication. Then this morning she was angry because they weren’t serving cheeseburgers at the breakfast buffet. Now this. I make a mental note to mention everything to her niece Penny the next time I talk to her and to keep a close eye on the situation. After all, it’s what I’m here for. “Your blood pressure is still running a little high. I think you’ve had too much excitement for today. And too much chocolate.”

“It was exciting, all right,” she says, now finding her new satin sleep bonnet and flipping it over the helmet of silver-fox curls. “That’s what happens when you get the VIP treatment. They do it up right for you. Take you everywhere you could possibly want to go. It was a fabulous day. Fabulous. I can’t wait to see what they have planned for us tomorrow.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

She pauses in her nightly slathering of cold cream to catch my gaze in the mirror and give me a pitying look. “I’m sorry they didn’t have space for you on our tour, honey. I hope you weren’t too lonely all day.”

My mind flashes back to several of my stolen moments with Lucien earlier. The way the sun hit his gleaming, dark hair when we walked through the various gardens. The way his hand brushed mine when we toured the cathedral. His smile. The feeling of him thrusting deep inside me in the convertible, the breeze off the Mediterranean cooling my feverish limbs.

“It wasn’t bad,” I say, doing my best not to blush. “I really enjoyed the cathedral. I thought Princess Grace’s tomb was so?—”

“That’s nice, honey,” she says, shutting her box of chocolates and thrusting it at me. “You better take these to your cabin and hide them. Otherwise, I’ll eat the whole damn box. We both know I will.”

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