The Collector 5: The Crystal Flacon Read online

  Abby laughed at the little girl’s indignation.

  The duke sighed and a teasing note entered his voice. “You see what you will have to deal with, Abby.”

  “No problem!”

  He laughed. “You say that now. Wait.”

  The interior of the villa was exquisite, light and airy. Sunbeams streamed through a glassed opening in the high ceiling. They turned down a corridor with doors lining one side. Lucrezia skipped toward the left but halted at a word from her father.

  “No, cara, Signorina Abby will be staying in the Duchesse’s room.”

  The little girl stared, a look of fright coming over her face. “But, papà, the ...” Her voice faded away. “The ghost?”

  He shook his head and sighed. “There is no ghost, Lucrezia. Signora Guigliano told you that to frighten you.”

  “But, papà, mamà told me, too!”

  Cursing softly under his breath, the duke turned to Abby. “These women used fear to control her.” His voice filled with bitterness. “Even my wife.” With a lighter tone, he addressed his daughter’s fears. “Would I harm Abby by putting her where anything bad could get at her?”

  Lucrezia shook her head vigorously.

  “And this is a much prettier room than Signora Guigliano’s, si?”

  “You’re right, papà.” Taking Abby’s hand she led her to a door in the middle of the corridor. “Here, Signorina Abby.” And she flung open the door.

  Abby gasped. The room was gorgeous. A replica of a renaissance boudoir greeted her. She took a tentative step inside and gazed with awe at the furnishings. The most well-known portrait of Lucrezia Borgia hung on the wall opposite the bed.

  “When Lucrezia died, her husband took everything from la Duchesse Lucrezia’s bedroom. Nothing has been modernized, repaired, repainted. Il niente!” He grinned. “Pardon me, we did replace the cushions, pillows and mattress -- couldn’t have anyone sleep on a bare frame -- and we built a closet into the room’s wall.”

  Midnight blue velvet, emerald green, topaz and other jewel tones dazzled the eye. An intricately carved wooden chest lay at the foot of the four-poster bed. A vanity with an ancient framed mirror hung above it, reflected the sun shining through the window. A hanging chest and a standing armoire that could devour all of Abby’s garments were placed in the room.

  The duke opened a door into a modern child’s bathroom. Sea serpent mosaics decorated the walls. Mediterranean sea-green tiled floor and sky-blue ceiling created a perfect world for a little mermaid.

  “Lucrezia’s bathroom.” He turned and strode to a door opposite and turned the knob. “Your bathroom.”

  This was opulence. Perfumed soaps from the duke’s company filled a porcelain dish shaped like a seashell. Shampoo and conditioner, also from the company sat on the tiled shelf of a huge Jacuzzi. A mirror running the length of one wall reflected the gold fixtures. Abby sniffed. A citrus scent tantalized her nose.

  “The fragrance is called Borgia. The duke smiled. “It is the signature of the company ... up till now.” He ran his fingers through his thick hair. “Since my wife’s death, I have been committed to expanding and renewing the company’s image. I know I have short-changed my daughter, but it is for her future that I do this.” He looked down at the little girl fearlessly jumping up and down on the velvet-covered bed and smiled. “The party to unveil the new product line is in less than a month. I’ll be spending even more time engaged in preparing for it in the next few weeks.” He grasped Abby’s hand and squeezed. “I need you, Abby. Lucrezia needs you. Will you stay, please?”

  She looked up at the handsome, regal man begging for her help and nodded. She couldn’t speak.

  Lucrezia bounced off the bed and threw her arms around Abby’s knees and hugged her.

  “Come, we’ll leave Abby to relax and get cleaned up, eh, bambina?”

  “Si, papà. Ciao, Abby.”

  Abby dropped to her knees and hugged the little girl. “Ciao, Lucy.”

  The duke cocked his head. “‘Lucy’?”

  Abby laughed. “Lucrezia seems such a big name for such a little girl. And her auburn hair ... well, she reminds me of Lucille Ball, you know ... I Love Lucy.”

  He shot her a charming grin and looked down at his daughter.

  “So, do you like your new name?”

  “Si, papà. I love it.”

  “Come now, Lucy. We shall see Abby later.”

  She watched the father and daughter leave the suite and set about putting away her clothing. The immense armoire did indeed swallow up her meager wardrobe. She stripped off her clothes and placed them in the hamper in the bathroom. Soon, she was soaking in the invigorating, yet relaxing, perfumed waters of the Jacuzzi.

  Bundling up in the velvety soft robe provided for her, she towel dried her hair and stretched out on the well-cushioned mattress.

  Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

  A deep, restless sleep.

  * * * * *

  She sat in front of a polished silver mirror. Her sheer, lacy negligee did nothing to hide her nakedness.

  The door swung open and Antonio swaggered in wearing an open, black, silk robe that exposed his rampant penis.

  Neither participant looked surprised at their state of undress.

  Antonio moved to stand behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and smiled. “You’re ready for me.”

  She smiled back at her reflection in the mirror. “I’m always ready for you, darling. I go through the day with my pussy wet and my breasts aching for you.”

  “Then I shall not disappoint you.”

  He carried her over to the bed and laid her down. He stripped off her gown and let his robe drop to the floor. She knew the taste of him, the very texture of his cock and her breath caught. She opened her arms wide, inviting him to join her. His body covered hers and he drew her into his arms, rolling to his side with her. He lifted her leg, placing her thigh over his and plunged his cock deep into her open warmth. She held on to him, pressing her breasts against him, relishing in his size and strength. He moved with vigor, making her weep with the depth of emotion he drew from her. She felt his heartbeat quicken, joining hers as their passion soared. Soon, she’d scale the heights with him, her soul’s mate. She bucked under him, urging him to greater efforts with the urgency of her body’s movements.

  Soon.

  He chanted her name as the bed shook under them.

  * * * * *

  “Abby, Abby, wake up. I’m hungry!”

  Abby’s eyes sprang open. Peering at her from the side of the bed were two hazel eyes in Lucy’s cherubic face. “Hurry up!”

  Lucy? Where was Antonio? Reality slapped her in the face. Antonio was still in her dreams, teasing her, luring her to the brink of ecstasy, then disappearing. She took a deep breath. Lucy needed her now.

  Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she stooped over and planted a light kiss on the tip of the little girl’s nose. “I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying! Patience.”

  It took just a few minutes for Abby to slip into a jersey knit wrap skirt and blouse in a warm hunter green. After tucking her feet into a pair of sandals, she brushed a dusting of powder on her face and finger combed her hair. The lingering scent of the soap, shampoo and bath oil was sufficient, and, after swiping on a bit of lipstick, she was ready.

  “Are you finished, Abby? My mama took hours and hours to get ready, but when she was done she looked like a principessa.”

  Abby grinned. “Are you saying I don’t look like a princess?”

  With the honesty of youth, Lucy shook her head. “But you do look pretty.”

  Abby tweaked her nose. “Grazie, cara.”

  With Lucy skipping ahead, they made their way downstairs. She led them through a door situated between the winged stairs. It revealed an interior open courtyard with a bubbling fountain, beautifully sculpted topiary, marble benches, intricate stone mosaic patterns inlaid within the smooth lawn, flowering trees with fragrant blossoms and a cozy nook with a modern, wrought-iron patio set consisting of a glass table, chairs and a gaily patterned umbrella for shade. The duke relaxed on one of the chairs, reading the paper. Near him, a rolling cart with covered dishes and a coffee pot invited Abby to satisfy her suddenly rumbling tummy.

  The duke looked up with a welcoming smile. “Ah, bellissima! The two most beautiful females in the world are here!”

  Lucy giggled. “Oh, papà, you are silly.”

  He gestured to the chair across from him and Abby sat. She inhaled the rich, dark aroma of coffee. A small mound of fresh peaches and strawberries filled a crystal bowl. Crisp, pencil-slim asparagus lay in an artful arrangement on a snow-white porcelain plate, garnished with lemon slices. Capellaci di zucca, pumpkin-filled pasta parcels, heaped in a bowl, was a traditional dish, dating back to the court of the Duke’s ancestors. On the side was a small dish of freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano. The scent of the sage butter that glistened on the pasta had her near to drooling.

  “I wasn’t sure about serving you one of our regional anguilla dishes, so I decided to stay with something more ... familiar, si?”

  Abby shuddered and wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry, but I just cannot see myself eating eel.” She grinned. “This, on the other hand, looks delicious.”

  “Please, eat.” He lifted a bottle and poured out a glass of blood-red wine into two glasses. “Some Bosco Eliceo?”

  She nodded.

  “Papà, I want some wine, too!” Lucy’s piped up in her childish treble.

  “May she have some?”

  Antonio sighed. “She wraps everyone she meets around her little finger.”

  Lucy interrupted. “Not Signora Guigliano.”

  “Si, not her.” He poured a half a glass of wine mixed with some wate
r from a pitcher and presented it to the little girl. “Don’t blame me if your head falls into your plate!”

  “Oh, papà, you are so funny!”

  For a while, the trio ate and drank in companionable silence. Abby noticed that Lucy couldn’t stop yawning. Soon, as her father had predicted, her chin sank to her chest.

  Abby and the duke shared a smile. “Let me carry her to her room and then I’ll give you the ... five centesimi tour, si?”

  “I’ll go with you. I’d like to see her room.”

  He nodded and scooped up the drowsy little girl, carrying her without any effort up the stairs.

  The bedroom continued the little mermaid theme from the bath. Starfish and shells decorated the light, white furniture. Fishnet swags festooned the bedposts. It was a dream room for a little girl.

  As though he had done it a hundred times, the duke slipped off Lucy’s sandals and pulled down the coverlet. He tucked her in and kissed her forehead.

  “She looks like an angel. You are so lucky.”

  “Yes, I am lucky.” He sighed. “I could have lost her, too. She was with her mother and her first nanny when my wife drove off. Thank God, Lucy was sitting in a safety seat in the back. She remembers nothing of the accident. But she lost the two women who were the most important in her life.” He paused then shook his head and grinned. “Signora Guigliano tried her best when Lucrezia chased away her first nannies.” He chuckled. “It is not the nicest thing to wake up with live eels in your bed.”

  “Oh, no.” Abby grinned. “I put a frog in my grandmother’s bed the first night I spent with her. I’d smuggled him in my coat pocket.” She smiled remembering. “She didn’t bat an eye. Just picked him up and put him in the garden. I cried until she presented me with a chubby hamster ... the same night. She always seemed to know the right thing to do.” She sighed and pushed back a tousled curl from Lucy’s forehead. “I know how Lucy feels. I lost both my parents when I was ten to a drunk driver.” She smiled up at Antonio. “At least she has you.”

  “And you had your grandmother. Lucrezia has no grandparents, other than a very distant grandfather on her mother’s side.” He grimaced. “I think he is up to his fourth mistress. He has no care for his grandchild.”

  Abby laid a consoling hand on his arm. “It’s his loss. Lucy is a darling girl.”

  Antonio gazed at the slender fingers sending heat throughout his body. He had never experienced such a response before. Even Maria, with all her sophisticated wiles, had never made him erect with just a casual touch. He had to get his mind on more mundane things.

  “Why don’t we tour Borgia now? Lucrezia won’t mind; she’s been there so many times all the workers know her.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to see everything.”

  He grinned. “There’s a great deal to see ... maybe we’ll save some things for another day.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I’d like to try to be here when she wakes up.”

  Antonio squeezed her hand, still resting on his forearm. “It will be wonderful for her to wake up with you nearby. You are a godsend. Grazie, bella.”

  Bella. Her breath hitched and she couldn’t respond. Her dream Antonio had called her that, his voice filled with desire and passion. Perhaps she could make the real Antonio feel the same; make him so besotted that he would let her near the coveted Crystal Flacon; make her job that much easier?

  And that much more enjoyable.

  Chapter Three

  Antonio led Abby through the interior courtyard and opened a door that revealed an immense greenhouse. A riot of scents assailed her.

  “Incredible!” She twirled trying to take it all in. Inhaling deeply, she attempted to name some of the fragrances. “How do you decide what to choose?”

  He smiled. “I give my perfumer a theme. Giorgio has been with Borgia for years. He’s given reality to most of the company’s trademark scents. We call him il Naso Grande, ‘the big nose’.” He paused. “This new project, though, is quite different. I’ve had some of the company’s most talented scientists try to analyze our new fragrance.” He ushered her forward to a small room where a short, balding man bent over several bowls containing a variety of flowers, fruits and other substances Abby couldn’t identify.

  “Giorgio, come sta?”

  The gnome of a man looked up at Antonio’s greeting, a broad smile crossing his face. His nostrils flared as if he were trying to mark Abby’s scent. His infectious smile elicited a corresponding one from her.

  “Allow me to present my friend, Abby?”

  Giorgio surged to his feet, enveloping her in a huge bear hug and kissed both her cheeks. He stepped back, still holding onto her shoulders and looked over at Antonio. “Your friend is very beautiful.”

  Abby blushed to the roots of her hair.

  “Si. Bellissima. So, Giorgio, are you working on that little project I gave you?”

  He nodded. “Lucrezia is such a volatile child. The notes are trying to escape me, but don’t worry. I shall capture them yet!”

  “Notes?”

  Giorgio chuckled. “Antonio you haven’t given her a music lesson yet?”

  “Music?”

  “Go on, my son. Teach her.”

  Assuming a stern demeanor, even while he tried not to smile, Antonio proceeded to instruct her in the fine art of perfumery.

  “When you create a new scent, it’s like creating a piece of music. It can be a simple fragrance of two or three scents, like a piece performed by a small chamber orchestra; or a more complex aroma with many different components, like an opera played by a symphony orchestra.” He waved his arm as though conducting the musicians. “Of course, all the various scents must be in harmony with each other.” He bowed toward the older man. “Giorgio, here, is as much of a genius as Puccini.”

  Giorgio returned his bow, but shook his head. “I just interpret your ideas. Now, let me get back to work. Lucrezia’s birthday is only three months away.” He turned back to the table and picked up a piece of ginger, sniffed it, and jotted down some notes in a leather-bound journal with an elegant Mont Blanc pen. The modern Mac computer sat with a blank screen on a desk nearby. Antonio caught Abby eyeing it.

  “Giorgio sets down his compositions in his journal, then inputs the different elements onto the Mac.” He sighed. “It took months to get him to use it. He prefers the old ways. He lets the lab guys break down the chemical composition.”

  “Fascinating!”

  “Si, so it is.”

  They walked through another door into a small display room lined with glass shelves. Perfume bottles ranging in size from no bigger than Abby’s little finger to giant flacons as big as wine bottles stood in size order on several shelves. One bottle immediately caught her eye and she carefully picked it up.

  “A mermaid. For Lucrezia’s perfume?”

  Antonio took the bottle, created from a swirl of colorful Venetian glass, and caressed the smooth, curved tail of the mermaid.

  “Si, it is a tradition in the family that each female should have her own scent. The last time we had a new one was almost six years ago.” He paused and frowned. “For Maria, my wife.” He indicated an elaborate emerald green bottle. “La Duchessa. She had a strong hand in developing it.” His frown deepened. “She liked nothing that Giorgio offered for her. She went into the hothouse and selected the notes on her own then presented them to him. He did his best, and she grudgingly accepted his final composition.” He shrugged. “It is a very heavy scent and Giorgio hates it, but it was moderately successful.” His nostrils flared as though he smelled something rank. “She wore it everywhere. The heart notes barely mask the first impression of the musky base notes. They clung to her clothing, to everything she touched.” He gazed earnestly at Abby. “You know that each person’s body chemistry interacts with the ingredients in a specific perfume differently, si?” He took a deep breath. “Those times she embraced our child, the scent left on Lucrezia’s skin always seemed to me to smell of decay.” He shuddered. “I could not bear it when she touched her. Thank God, she seldom held her.”

  “Antonio, I am so sorry.”

  His lips thinned. “She was leaving me, taking the nanny and Lucrezia, when she had the accident. With her lover.” He spat out the last word. “Can you imagine; he was in the back seat with Lucrezia. He walked away without a scratch. He ran away, I should say, left the women dying in the front seat and Lucrezia crying in the back seat. I never found out who he was, only that Maria said he satisfied her like I could never do. You know what that does to an Italian male’s ego, si?