The Jewel Thief Read online

  She had met Jenny when she had rebelled against her parent’s wishes and started off her work experience by interning at a fashion house. Jenny had also started that very same day so that had led to relieved introductions.

  Jenny came from a very normal, white collar family whereas Danielle had just entered into her inheritance.

  Two people from very different backgrounds.

  It was almost like a bond at first sight.

  “Do you have anything in the fridge?” Jenny peered into the large metal box and frowned, “For someone who is rolling in dough, would it kill you to hire an around the clock chef?”

  Danielle perched her pert little ass on the island counter, and asked, amused, “Why? So you can have him prepare sushi at will?”

  “Mmm. Sushi.” Jenny said, dreamily. “What I wouldn’t give for sushi right now.”

  Danielle blinked, “I read this article about a man who had sushi twice a week for an entire year and he had tapeworms growing inside of him.”

  Jenny eyed her, disgusted, “What is wrong with you? This is why you don’t have a man, you know. Attractive topics. I keep telling you. Choose attractive topics.”

  Danielle ignored her and picked up the phone, “Well, I want pizza. What toppings do you want?”

  Jenny looked at her stomach, sighing, “I had pancakes for breakfast today. I shouldn’t.” Then, she laughed. “I’ll live in sin tonight. Fajita. Spicy as is legally allowed.”

  As Danielle placed the order, Jenny topped two glasses with red wine and made her way to the long couch that oversaw the glass windows.

  “I love your apartment,” She sighed happily. “You can see everything. Like the world is yours. Top of the world and all.”

  Danielle clambered under the blanket that Jenny had dragged from her bedroom and they both huddled under it, sipping at their wine.

  “So,” Jenny’s eyes almost sparkled. “Is it true he’s foreign? I couldn’t find any pictures online.”

  Danielle rolled her eyes, “He’s Irish, born and bred.”

  Jenny blinked, “So? What, you don’t like Irish people now?”

  “That’s not it!” Her friend protested. “He’s cocky. And confident. And-“

  Jenny fanned her face, “Cocky and confident, just what I like in a man.”

  “Not if he bids over you for something you want, only to ask you to go out with him in exchange for it.” Danielle surmised, sourly.

  “Is that what he did? He wanted you to go out with him?” Jenny stared at her. “Are you stupid or something? Why didn’t you say yes?”

  Danielle scowled, “Did you not-?”

  “This guy is supposed to be a hunk. If it were me, I would lay down there and ask him to –“ Jenny laughed.

  Danielle kicked her under the blanket, “The last thing I need is to start dating somebody who is days away from making the cover page for Vogue. I learnt my lesson, okay?” She ignored the pang in her heart at the thought of her ex fiancé, Julian. “I don’t need that kind of drama in my life.”

  Or pain.

  “Oh, pup, Julian is old news. The actress he married is leaving him.” A smug, satisfied smile on her face, “I heard she’s taking his estate in Hawaii.”

  Danielle swallowed the barb in her heart but couldn’t help but smile at the viciousness in her friend’s voice, “Don’t forget his house in London. How did you find out though? I thought the divorce was private.”

  Jenny waved her hand, “I met your mom for coffee a few days ago.”

  Danielle stared at her, “I’m amazed the two of you find the time to catch up on gossip once a week.”

  “I’m like the daughter she never had but always wanted.”

  “Unlike you two, I don’t spend time listening to what other people do with their time.” Danielle scorned, forced playfulness in her voice.

  “Well, that’s the reason you also don’t know that Sean Callaghan has refused every invitation by every woman he’s met so far.” Jenny waggled her eyebrows. “But he asked you out. So, I’m assuming you put two and two together…”

  “And yet, I’m not interested.” Danielle finished for her. “He’s hot. I’ll admit that. But he’s kind of a douche who assumed I’d throw myself at his feet just because he has something I want.”

  Jenny hooted, making her friend laugh, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

  Jenny just laughed, “Give him a chance. Have a little fun, Danielle. It won’t kill you.”

  Danielle tried to smile but found that she couldn’t. She leaned back against the arm of the couch, almost slouching, her feet in her friend’s lap. Those blue eyes clouded, “I don’t want to. I don’t ever want to find myself in that position again.”

  Jenny grew sober. “So, what are you going to do? Not date again?”

  Danielle scowled at her, “I’m going to find myself a nice man, who isn’t interested in my inheritance, marry him, have a couple of kids, and live the white picket fence dream.”

  “I’m sure Mr. Boring is just waiting for you to show up.” Jenny made a face. “You’ve got to bounce back, babe. What Julian did was a dick move. But that doesn’t mean you should swear off men.”

  “I’m not,” Danielle protested. “I just don’t want to date a high profile man. And not someone like Sean.”

  Jenny tucked her tongue in her cheek, “Wow, you really hate the guy. I guess men should just stop asking you out, what with that being your reaction.”

  Danielle just glared at her.

  With the buzzer going off, indicating the arrival of the pizza, the topic was dropped.

  ***

  The sound of her phone was what dragged Danielle from her warm sleepy state. The sun was shining and Jenny huddled up in the blanket, lost in her dreams. She must have been enjoying them because there was a lopsided smile on her lips and a hint of drool.

  Dragging herself back so that she could lean against the headboard of the bed, Danielle answered the phone.

  “Miss Walter?”

  It was her assistant, Ronald.

  “Ron, it’s like seven in the morning,” She scrunched her eyes against the sun, “What can you possibly want?”

  “There is- There was – the samples of the designs you ordered came in, and they’re all wrong and everybody is hysterical and the designers refuse to do anything until the samples are fixed and they know that they are approved, and-“

  “Stop talking, Ron.” Danielle yawned. “I get it. There’s chaos. People are dying. The world is ending. Tell Martin to pick me up in an hour.”

  Closing the phone, she sighed.

  Today was supposed to be her day off.

  She had wanted to go home, see her parents, hang around Central Park.

  As she glanced at Jenny again, she smiled, and then dragged herself off to the shower.

  She had studied design from one of the top schools in Manhattan and had invested a small portion of her income that she had started earning herself, into setting up her own brand, an economical one, one that could be afforded by all income brackets.

  She hadn’t thought it would be such a huge success, but her team of designers had enjoyed the work environment she provided them and when within two years, what had started off as a large store in the centre of New York City, was now a growing chain.

  Jenny had been the first designer she had hired on impulse, and right now as she saw her friend’s phone buzzing, she nudged her, “Your assistant’s calling.”

  “Tell her I’m dead.” Came a sleepy mumble.

  “Mine already called me. There’s a work emergency. Get your ass up.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” Came the grumble.

  “I’m your boss, Jenny. I can tell you what to do.” Came the amused reply, as Danielle stood over her, drinking coffee from her mug, her arms crossed against her chest.

  Jenny showed her the middle finger, before turning over and settling back in. />
  Rolling her eyes, Danielle walked towards the kitchen, “I’m making eggs, and probably waffles. If you want them, get into the shower in the next five minutes.”

  A groan, and a sound of a thud and an accompanying curse had her grinning.

  It was more than five minutes when Jenny showed up. Her eyes lit up at the sight of waffles.

  “So, what’s wrong?” She asked, stuffing her face.

  Danielle combed her fingers through her hair, “Ron made it sound like the apocalypse is upon us, so I assume he pissed somebody off.”

  Jenny waved her fork, swallowing her food, “My bet is on that new girl, whats-her-name, Sarah. Never liked her.”

  Her friend looked on exasperated, “Sarah’s a spoilt kid. I’m just doing her parents a favour by letting her intern here.”

  Jenny rolled her eyes, “She acts more like she owns the place.”

  The ringing of the doorbell had the two of them blinking.

  “Martin never rings the doorbell.” Jenny broke the silence, looking confused.

  “Then maybe it’s not Martin,” Danielle grunted, sliding off the stool and making her way to the door.

  Seeing the fresh faced security guard from last night, she opened the door to him and he held out a beautiful wicker basket. “This was sent for you, Ma’am. The gentleman told me to deliver this to you directly.”

  Baffled, Danielle slowly accepted the basket and watched the security guard turn red when he caught sight of a scantily clad Jenny behind Danielle.

  Touching his hat, he quickly left.

  “He’s so cute.” Jenny sighed. “I wouldn’t mind playing with him.”

  “Calm your libido down,” Danielle muttered, absently, as she put the basket onto the table. Even from just touching it, she knew it was very fine quality.

  “This is an authentic Rayes.” Jenny said in awe.

  “A what?” Danielle blinked at her.

  “An Irish designer. Very popular. She’s into craftsmanship. Her work is usually auctioned because there’s too many buyers.” Jenny’s eyes were wide, as if someone had splashed cold water over her. “See this signature here, the stamp; it’s her sign. You’re so lucky, girl.”

  If Jenny liked the basket so much, she could have it, Danielle mused, as she opened the side and saw a familiar iron box inside, along with a note.

  Swallowing, she took out the box and opened it.

  The pipe sat there, in all its glory.

  Jenny whistled, “I’m assuming this is from Sean Callaghan.”

  Danielle just picked up the note. The handwriting held an aesthetic beauty.

  “’Please accept my apologies. I meant no disrespect.’ Signed, Sean,” Danielle read aloud.

  Jenny wet her lips, “The man has some style.”

  “He certainly does, doesn’t he?” Danielle murmured, as she tucked the note in her purse.

  ***

  Her day had started off with an odd twist but Danielle walked into the chaos of her workplace, with her assistant trying to stand his ground in front of ten pissed off designers who were yelling at him, outraged.

  Setting her purse on her desk, she watched Ron’s shoulders droop with relief and sat down in her seat, waiting for everyone to shut up.

  They must have sensed that she was starting to get angry because one by one they quieted down, till the room held pin drop silence.

  “I saw the samples.”

  Danielle raised a hand when one of the designers opened her mouth to protest. Her tone was dangerous, “I saw the samples and I sent them back. Approving them is my job. I don’t see why all of you are standing here, arguing about something that does not concern you.”

  She studied their faces, watching them go pale.

  However, one of the designers, Fareeha, held a mutinous expression on her face, making Danielle raise a brow, “Is there something you’d like to say, Fareeha?”

  The brunette hesitated and then tightened her jaw, “I don’t see why we have no say over the samples. This is our work. We deserve to have a say in all this.”

  Danielle gave her a long look, “Have I ever made any of you feel that your input is not valuable on the final samples?”

  When there were guilty looks exchanged, she pursed her lips, “I have always welcomed your pointers and will always do so. However, at the end of the day, I not only add finishing touches to some of your work, I market it. That means I will always have the final say.”

  When some of the designers shifted uncomfortably, Danielle glanced at the door and they started leaving.

  Sighing, Ron sank into a chair, his voice trembling, “They wanted to kill me.”

  Danielle shook her head, and held out her hand, “Okay, show me all the invoices. Let’s fix this mess.”

  As Ron held out the forms, Danielle stilled, “These are not my signatures.”

  Ron frowned, “What? How is that-“

  “Who handled these forms, Ron? Apart from you?” She scowled.

  “Sarah.” Ron said automatically. “She was the one who put them on your desk to be signed. I honestly expected these today, but she handed them to me that very evening.”

  “This is not my writing,” Danielle said, curtly. “These instructions for adjustments are not mine.”

  The look in her eyes was cold, “Call Sarah in.”

  Sarah was in her late teens, pretty, fashionable, and most importantly as spoilt as they came. Her blonde hair was curled today, and her makeup was flawless.

  “Hi Danielle!”

  Fortunately for Danielle, she knew Sarah’s type, so she just watched her, “Take a seat, Sarah.”

  Sarah sat down in the chair that had been occupied by Ron, who now stood behind Danielle. Danielle eyed her clothing, distastefully.

  The short top that the younger girl had on was practically causing her breasts to fall out, and her mini skirt left nothing to the imagination. However, her interns fashion choices were not her concern.

  “Sarah, did you write these adjustments on these invoices?”

  Sarah stared at the paper shown to her and shrugged, “Yeah.”

  Danielle grit her teeth at the callous response.

  “And did you forge my signature?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  Danielle coughed, “Yeah, so? You committed forgery. Your irresponsible and unethical behaviour cost me a lot of money. I can have you arrested for your actions.”

  Sarah scoffed, “It’s just money, Danielle. Plus, my adjustments were very good.”

  Danielle raised her brows in disdain, “Very good? Your adjustments ended me up with samples that basically just barely cover anything. We don’t design lingerie. We design everyday clothes. My designers are upset. Money was wasted.”

  When Sarah just crossed her arms against her chest, Danielle studied her and then told Ron, “Bring me Sarah’s internship agreement.”

  “What?” Now the teen looked a little uneasy.

  “I’m terminating your internship with this company effective immediately.” Danielle said, as she signed on one of the documents. Looking up, she gave the younger girl a cool look, “I told you when you arrived that you should not expect a free ride. The people who work for me put in effort and hours and sweat. I have not seen that from you in the one month that you’ve been here.”

  Her eyes turned colder, if it was possible, “Instead, you’ve been creating dissent amongst my employees. And now, this. Ron, escort her out.”

  “My parents are not going to let this go! You’re just some stuck up bitch, anyways. Everyone knows that you’re a black sheep. Even my dad said that you might have the looks, but you’re a cold frigid bitch.”

  “Language, child.” Came Jenny’s affable comment from behind her.

  Sarah turned to her, spitting venom, “Don’t talk to me like you know me, you freaky slut.”

  “Slut? Who, me?” Jenny blinked, not in the least insulted.

  �
�Sarah, leave before I call security.”

  The girl has tears of rage in her eyes at the humiliation, “My dad is going to make you pay!”

  As the door slammed behind her, Danielle grasped her head in her hands, “Teenagers.”

  Then she glanced at Jenny, “I’m sorry for what she said.”

  Jenny grinned, “I’ve never been called a ‘freaky’ slut. What does that even mean? Does she think I’m kinky in bed, or that I sleep around with guys who have weird fetishes?”

  Danielle glared at her and pointed towards the door.

  “All right. I’m leaving, you frigid bitch.” Jenny closed the door, snickering at her own joke, while Danielle bit her cheek not to give in to the urge to laugh.

  Sighing, she got back to fixing the damage her latest intern had caused.

  This was going to take hours.

  Staring at the papers in front of her, she wondered if this day could get any worse.

  Apparently, it could.

  Chapter Three

  Ron’s head popped in, and he looked a little hassled, “There’s a Mr. Arton here to see you.”

  Danielle blinked, “Thomas Arton?”

  “Get out of the way, boy.” A cane nudged Ron aside and the bearer of the cane entered the room.

  Even at his age, he was an imposing figure.

  Tall, wearing his pride like a second skin, Thomas Arton looked every bit of the distinguished gentlemen he was. His silvery hair was neatly combed back. His face was weathered with years of grief and harshness, but his lips were firm, his green eyes mirrored his grandson’s, in their wildness.

  “Hi, Mr. Arton. It’s lovely seeing you.”

  Danielle crossed around her desk and dropped a dutiful kiss on his cheek.

  “You didn’t come by to see me yesterday.” He said, gruffly, as he sat down.

  Danielle saw through the mask to his hurt, and she laughed, “I was a little angry at the time with your grandson.”

  Thomas shifted in his seat, shooting a piercing look at her, “Met Sean, did you? What did you think?”

  “I think he has your charm in spades.” Danielle commented, wryly.

  The older man grinned at the words, “He’s my boy, all right. Never had any trouble with the ladies when I was his age. Well, not before Meredith came and tied me to her.”