I caught a flash of Cosima’s flame-colored hair across the room. She, Tanya, and Sammie were shaking hands with Denis King, our show’s benefactor, who had just arrived. The team from Extra was filming the meeting, focusing mainly on Sammie, the socialite in her natural habitat.
Tanya, who made the policy that we could never, ever borrow a piece from any collection under penalty of death or worse, was wearing the diamond tiara of oak leaves and acorns that the fifteenth Duke of Norfolk gave to his bride, Gwendolen Maxwell, in 1904. It’s an insult to the little people when those in power think the rules don’t apply to them. That’s why I didn’t feel as guilty as I probably should have for borrowing Corny’s dresses. It was my way of taking a stand in the fight for human equality. Naturally, it was a political statement I preferred to make in secret so I wouldn’t get fired.
Denis was nattily attired in a charcoal pin-striped Brioni suit, crisp white shirt, and red silk tie. Trustees who had retrospectives named for them typically arrived with entourages, but not Denis. He came with one person, a little girl, his daughter most likely. I hung back so he wouldn’t see me.
It was completely unfair. Cosima and I had spent two years working on this exhibit. We had compiled the greatest collection of tiaras ever to be assembled in one place—over three hundred bejeweled head ornaments. Each was priceless and irreplaceable, which is why Lloyd’s of London installed its own safe and insisted on providing round-the-clock armed guards. With millions of dollars worth of diamond, emerald, sapphire, and ruby crowns on display, some from the personal collections of the royals, others from such renowned sources as Fabergé, Cartier, and Lalique, it would take more than our beloved Gus to keep the collection safe. Tanya had him stationed by the door to the banquet hall so he wouldn’t feel bad about being replaced.
Cosima and I had worked side by side to track down the pieces we hoped to exhibit, obtain permission to borrow them, learn their unique history, and distill the wealth of information we uncovered for the show and for this very moment—when we would reveal to the world details of the mouth-dropping retrospective that would be unveiled in a few weeks. Cosima promised I could take center stage, mainly because she was deathly afraid to speak in public. This was supposed to be my moment. Instead, Sammie would get the glory.
I might as well eat the designer food, I thought. It would save me having to buy lunch. Each piece of sushi was a work of miniature art. Chef Masayoshi Takayama himself had prepared everything. This was as close as I’d get to dining at his ungodly priced restaurant.
I looked up and noticed Denis’ little girl shaking hands with Gus. Cosima was introducing them. She looked over and caught my eye. Next thing I knew, she was escorting Denis and the child over to me. Yikes! There was no place to hide.
“Holly, have you met Denis King?” Cosima asked.
Denis cocked his head. “I believe we’ve met, haven’t we?”
The blood rushed to my face. “Yes, Holly Ross. We were introduced last time you were here.”
Denis looked uncertain, but shook my hand. His grip was firm and his hand was dry. He smelled kind of musky with a touch of sweetness—very sexy and masculine.
“This is my daughter, Annie,” he said with pride. “I wanted to show her what the old man’s been up to.”
Annie reached over and shook my hand. She was a dainty little niblet, about ten, freckle-faced with thick chestnut brown hair. “Daddy, can I wear one of the crowns?” she asked.
“I think it’s against the rules,” he said.
“But that lady over there is wearing one,” she said, pointing at Tanya.
I leaned down to Annie and whispered in her ear, “Why don’t you ask that lady if you can try on her tiara? Tell her you’re Denis King’s daughter and he said she should let you wear it for the rest of the press conference.”
Annie giggled. “I’ll be right back.” She skipped off.
“Say excuse me,” Denis called after her. When she didn’t, he shrugged apologetically.
“Denis, Holly was my partner in putting this exhibit together,” Cosima explained. “She’s the brains behind it.”
“And the beauty too, I see,” Denis said, flashing dimples that could disarm a small army.
“Well, thank you. If you love the show, I accept tips,” I joked. Oh, that was lame. “No, really, I was kidding. I don’t accept tips. Although I do accept free vacations.” Someone, stop me. Please.
Denis laughed. “And if I don’t love it, can I blame you?”
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy. With whatever you don’t love about the exhibit, I mean. That’s what I’ll make you happy about.”
“Then I will come to you with any complaints I have,” Denis said. “Although I don’t expect to have any.”
Cosima touched his sleeve. “There are more people I want to introduce you to.” She turned to me. “He wants to meet everyone who worked on the show.”
“Yes, I want to thank them for their contribution. So thank you, Miss Ross.”
“Call me Holly, please.”
“Thank you, Holly. You did a brilliant job with the exhibit and I appreciate your hard work. You made me look good, and that means a lot, especially with my daughter here.”
“Oh, go on,” I said modestly.
“If you really want me to, I will.”
I giggled like a schoolgirl. Cosima looked at me with an urgent expression. She wanted me to act more professional, at least that was my interpretation. I straightened up and cleared my throat.
He leaned in to me. “Can I ask you a personal
