Read Online A Secret in Salem by Sheri Anderson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sheri Anderson
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stemmed glass with slivered ice crystals from the beauty, who batted her eyes at the man old enough to be her grandfather.
“Where is your gorgeous wife?” Serge interrupted with a hint of jealousy. “And little Charley? What a stunner!”
“Should be here in about thirty minutes in all her glory, I assume. And she would not like those camera-blocking lasers.” Richie smiled.
“The boys?” Serge asked.
“Running late too, but they wouldn’t miss it.”
“Gemma is not going to be happy if her schedule gets fucked up.” Serge scowled. “And there’s nothing else to buy her to keep her happy.”
“Serge!”
Russian billionaire Alexei Fortunatov interrupted them. “What a nice little boat you have here,” Fortunatov sneered. He was known for owning the Chelsea Football Club in the United Kingdom— and the most expensive yacht in the world. With its lasers.
“Serge was just showing me around, Alexei,” Richie said, pasting on a sincere but firm smile. “Perhaps we’ll chat later.”
With that, Richie led Serge away from Serge’s nemesis. One thing Richie knew was which side his bread was buttered on.
“When will Da be home?” Claire yawned to her mother as the two sat in the cockpit of the Fancy Face IV.
“Probably not for a while, sweet pea,” Belle answered. “He and Chelsea haven’t seen each other for a long time.”
“Will you read to me?” Claire asked.
“Why don’t you run down and get your pj’s on, and I’ll be there in a few,” Belle said gently. “I just want to finish up here.” Claire tottered down the steps into the main cabin.
Belle was sitting at the small teak table, poring over the sketches she’d been working on for months. If she indeed managed to get a meeting with Olivia Gaines, she wanted them to be perfect.
Belle’s career as a designer with her father’s company, Basic Black, had been short-lived, but not because of her talent. She relished the idea of working for someone other than family, and the quality of the fabrics Olivia used complemented Belle’s simple draped designs
Belle sat alone, nursing a Campari and soda to settle herstomach, watching the beauty that surrounded her. The night was indeed stunning, and there was activity throughout the glittering harbor, hotels, and casino, and it spilled onto the jubilant streets of Monte Carlo.
Shawn and Belle’s boat was moored a ways out from the main harbor, but from this vantage point, she could hear and see it all. The most activity obviously surrounded K, with the flashes of paparazzi on the dock and music pouring from every deck of the floating estate.
She wondered what had happened with Abby, and if she had been able to get into the soiree.
“Mommy!” She heard Claire call from below.
Shaking off her reverie, she called down to her daughter, “Right there, sweet pea.”
Gathering up her sketches, she went to mark the upper corner of her revisions. She’d lost track of the date, which she’d often done on their remarkable journey, so she checked her iPhone.
August 16.
With her charcoal pencil, she scrawled the date on the three sketches she’d revised.
“August 16?” she thought aloud.
She was five days late.
“Must be all the excitement,” she added.
Putting away the sketches in a watertight sleeve, she started making her way to Claire. But before she reached her daughter, something caught her eye in the distance.
Through binoculars, she could see the flashing of white police cars hurtling toward the base of the hills. A huge red fire truckbehind them. The sounds barely audible over the cacophony of Dalita Kasagian’s party.
Little did she know, Shawn was in the midst of the action.
The Aston Martin sat teetering on its passenger side and looked as if it had been put through a vise. Every one of the aluminum panels were crumpled, the hood twisted like a piece of used foil.
Shawn was first on the scene and horrified by what he saw. Charley was strapped in her seat,
“Where is your gorgeous wife?” Serge interrupted with a hint of jealousy. “And little Charley? What a stunner!”
“Should be here in about thirty minutes in all her glory, I assume. And she would not like those camera-blocking lasers.” Richie smiled.
“The boys?” Serge asked.
“Running late too, but they wouldn’t miss it.”
“Gemma is not going to be happy if her schedule gets fucked up.” Serge scowled. “And there’s nothing else to buy her to keep her happy.”
“Serge!”
Russian billionaire Alexei Fortunatov interrupted them. “What a nice little boat you have here,” Fortunatov sneered. He was known for owning the Chelsea Football Club in the United Kingdom— and the most expensive yacht in the world. With its lasers.
“Serge was just showing me around, Alexei,” Richie said, pasting on a sincere but firm smile. “Perhaps we’ll chat later.”
With that, Richie led Serge away from Serge’s nemesis. One thing Richie knew was which side his bread was buttered on.
“When will Da be home?” Claire yawned to her mother as the two sat in the cockpit of the Fancy Face IV.
“Probably not for a while, sweet pea,” Belle answered. “He and Chelsea haven’t seen each other for a long time.”
“Will you read to me?” Claire asked.
“Why don’t you run down and get your pj’s on, and I’ll be there in a few,” Belle said gently. “I just want to finish up here.” Claire tottered down the steps into the main cabin.
Belle was sitting at the small teak table, poring over the sketches she’d been working on for months. If she indeed managed to get a meeting with Olivia Gaines, she wanted them to be perfect.
Belle’s career as a designer with her father’s company, Basic Black, had been short-lived, but not because of her talent. She relished the idea of working for someone other than family, and the quality of the fabrics Olivia used complemented Belle’s simple draped designs
Belle sat alone, nursing a Campari and soda to settle herstomach, watching the beauty that surrounded her. The night was indeed stunning, and there was activity throughout the glittering harbor, hotels, and casino, and it spilled onto the jubilant streets of Monte Carlo.
Shawn and Belle’s boat was moored a ways out from the main harbor, but from this vantage point, she could hear and see it all. The most activity obviously surrounded K, with the flashes of paparazzi on the dock and music pouring from every deck of the floating estate.
She wondered what had happened with Abby, and if she had been able to get into the soiree.
“Mommy!” She heard Claire call from below.
Shaking off her reverie, she called down to her daughter, “Right there, sweet pea.”
Gathering up her sketches, she went to mark the upper corner of her revisions. She’d lost track of the date, which she’d often done on their remarkable journey, so she checked her iPhone.
August 16.
With her charcoal pencil, she scrawled the date on the three sketches she’d revised.
“August 16?” she thought aloud.
She was five days late.
“Must be all the excitement,” she added.
Putting away the sketches in a watertight sleeve, she started making her way to Claire. But before she reached her daughter, something caught her eye in the distance.
Through binoculars, she could see the flashing of white police cars hurtling toward the base of the hills. A huge red fire truckbehind them. The sounds barely audible over the cacophony of Dalita Kasagian’s party.
Little did she know, Shawn was in the midst of the action.
The Aston Martin sat teetering on its passenger side and looked as if it had been put through a vise. Every one of the aluminum panels were crumpled, the hood twisted like a piece of used foil.
Shawn was first on the scene and horrified by what he saw. Charley was strapped in her seat,
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