Forbidden

original, not a duplication.”

“Very well.” Carranza released a long-suffering sigh, then glanced back at Paige. “Perhaps later this evening we can discuss a fair price for the necklace?”

Paige laughed lightly, a chuckle that sounded strained to her own ears, and forced the reply Josh had rehearsed with her. “Actually, I’ve had other inquiries about the necklace. I heard it was part of the Ivanov collection and I’m not sure I want to part with it.” She caressed the smooth jewels and smiled. “After all, it does have a certain sentimental value attached to it.”

A muscle in Carranza’s jaw twitched, and something dark and dangerous glittered in his eyes. “I hope you’ll reconsider.”

She gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe it would be best for Bridget to find another emerald-and-diamond necklace that is more…attainable.”

Bridget’s gaze sparked with a flash of fury that sent a touch of fear skittering along Paige’s spine. Carranza, too, looked none too happy with her unwillingness to give them what they wanted. Obviously, they hadn’t planned on her not cooperating.

To Paige’s immense relief, dinner was announced, interrupting the tense moment. Obviously displeased, Carranza excused himself, and flanked by Bridget and Alfred, headed toward the dining area.

“Well, he’s certainly been baited,” Paige commented, leaning close to Josh as they wended their way to the table they’d been assigned to.

He pulled out a chair for her to sit. “We’ll see what happens,” he murmured, then took the seat next to her.

They spent the next hour dining on a fabulous fivecourse meal. Josh ate his dinner with gusto, but Paige pushed her food around on her plate, knowing her churning stomach would never be able to digest any of the rich entrees. Instead, she nibbled on her bread and consumed three glasses of water, hoping that bland diet would settle her anxiety. They conversed politely with the couples seated at their table, but Paige remembered little of what they’d discussed.

After dinner, she and Josh danced, mingled and went out onto the balcony for fresh air, all the while waiting and wondering what Carranza had planned next. Though they’d spoken at intervals during the party, Carranza had made no more mention of his interest in the Ivanov necklace. He was again pleasant and charming. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he’d accepted her refusal to sell him the piece.

The night wore on. People gradually retired for the evening, and Paige grew weary, too. She hated to think that all the preparation for this weekend would be for nothing-she also didn’t want to leave Miami with Carranza still on the loose, and Josh in the midst of the danger surrounding the case.

Out on the dance floor, Josh held her securely as they moved to a slow ballad, along with several other couples still enjoying the evening’s festivities. With every shift of her body against Josh’s, she became increasingly aware of the uncomfortable pressure low in her belly-nature had been calling for the past two hours.

“Josh, I really have to go to the ladies’ room,” she said, more urgently than the other two times she’d made the same request.

He frowned, the hand resting at the base of her spine tightening perceptively. “Can’t you hold it a little while longer?”

If the situation hadn’t become so dire, she would have laughed. “No,” she groaned, her frustration coming through in the tone of her voice. “Between the three glasses of water I drank during dinner and the soda I just finished, my bladder is going to explode if I don’t empty it. And soon.” Glancing around the ballroom, she found Carranza. “Victor and Bridget are busy talking to that group of people. You keep an eye on them, and I’ll be back in less than two minutes,” she suggested, knowing how odd it would look for Josh to accompany her to the rest room and stand guard.

Hesitant emotions entered his gaze. He clearly didn’t want her out of his sight, not even to take care of a necessity.

“Josh, I’m wired,” she reminded him in a low voice. “There’ll be two dozen men in that rest room with me.”

An amused smile kicked up the corner of his mouth. “You’re right,” he conceded, casting a glance toward the hired bartender. The man gave a barely discernible nod to indicate he’d heard them.

Reluctantly, Josh let her go, and she headed toward a hallway that took her out of Josh’s line of vision and led to a rest room. Thankfully, it was unoccupied. Locking the door behind her, she took care of business as quickly as possible. While washing her hands, she glimpsed her reflection. She looked pale and tired, though the Ivanov necklace sparkled with a life of its own. She wondered how something so beautiful and extraordinary could be the root of so much evil and greed.

Somebody tested the doorknob, pulling her out of her idle musings. She realized she’d taken at least five minutes instead of the two she’d promised Josh, and hat he was probably growing frantic with worry.

“I’ll be just a second,” she called to the person on the other side of the door as she tucked back a stray strand of hair that had escaped her chignon. She stifled a yawn and straightened her dress, thinking she and Josh ought to call it a night, since Carranza didn’t seem inclined to make a move for the necklace that evening.

With that thought on her weary mind, she exited the est room and collided with a solid wall of muscle that caused her to take a step back to steady herself. Startled, he glanced up, expecting Josh, but found herself starning at a middle-aged man with a deep, two-inch scar long his cheek. He was dressed in the requisite black, is long ebony hair pulled back and secured at the back of his neck with a thin leather strap.

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly realizing how quiet he hallway was, and that they were alone, just the two of them. “I should have been paying better attention to vhere I was going.” She attempted to step around him.

He blocked her path, large and immobile. Forebodng snaked along the surface of her skin and kicked up he adrenaline in her system. He smiled, the gesture as dark and evil as his black eyes. Full-fledged terror gripped her. Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to bolt, but he anticipated her intent.

He grasped her arm so brutally, she sucked in a sharp breath, cutting off the protest forming on her lips. Before she could recover from that painful assault, he forcefully guided her down the hallway, away from the ballroom.

“Make a sound and you’re dead,” he informed her his tone as feral as his threatening words.

SITTING AT their dinner table while he waited for Paige to return from the ladies’ room, Josh casually glanced a his watch for the seventh time in as many minutes.

He had a clear view of the corridor that led to the res room, and no one had entered or exited from that direction since Paige. Tension tightened the cords in his neck and bunched the muscles along his shoulders. Where another minute crept by with no sign of Paige, he grew even more restless, his eyes shifting from the hallway to Carranza and back again, his mind flipping through a multitude of scenarios-none of which were pleasant.

A young man Josh had seen with Carranza throughout the night approached Victor, and Josh watched as they exchanged words. Carranza’s expression took on a cold, calculating presence, and he nodded to his messenger. Excusing himself from the group he’d been visiting with, Carranza then exited the ballroom through the main entrance.

The fact that Carranza had departed in the opposite direction to where Paige had gone did little to reassure Josh. His gut twisted with an awful premonition. A discreet but urgent nod from the bartender confirmed his suspicions.

Something had happened to Paige, and she was in trouble.

Forcing a calm he was hard-pressed to maintain, Jost headed toward the brass-and-mahogany bar. He waited anxiously for the couple in front of him to order and receive their drinks, then leave to mingle. Once he was alone with the bartender, Josh stepped closer to the brass railing, careful not to make eye contact with the undercover officer on the opposite side of the bar. The other man kept busy as well, clearing the empty glasses a waiter had delivered.

“I’ll take a club soda,” Josh said, aware that Bridget was keeping an eye on him from across the room.

The bartender set a glass with ice on the pour pad and used a spigot to fill it with the carbonated liquid. “Study. West wing. First level.”

The officer’s words were low and clipped, but Josh latched on to each one, knowing that somehow, between the network of other undercover officers planted around the estate, and any information or clues Paige might have