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Chapters (82)
  1. Cover
  2. ALSO BY JAMIE BRENNER
  3. PART ONE
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. PART TWO
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. PART THREE
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. 63
  69. 64
  70. 65
  71. 66
  72. 67
  73. 68
  74. 69
  75. 70
  76. 71
  77. 72
  78. 73
  79. 74
  80. Acknowledgments
  81. About the Author
  82. What’s next onyour reading list?

“You’re trespassing,” Elodie said, her ash blond hair pushed back in a headband that matched her dress. Her only jewelry was a gold chain-link necklace and a gold Pavlin & Co watch. Her figure was matronly; her voice had the huskiness of a former smoker, and a slight twang that suggested nonexistent Southern roots. She had deep creases around her mouth, but was blessed with the same beautiful blue-green eyes as all the Pavlin women.

“Do you know who I am?” Gemma said.

“I do. That’s how I know you weren’t invited.”

“Where’s the Electric Rose?”

“That’s none of your business. It’s a family piece.”

“And I’m family. My mother left it to me.”

“It wasn’t hers to leave. It belongs to Pavlin & Co. At best, it was loaned to her. I hate to disappoint you, but you’ll have to go gold-digging elsewhere.”

Gemma felt a fury she’d never experienced before. She would never understand why the Pavlins cast her out as they did, but at least in this moment she knew what to do about it.

“I’m not going anywhere. That ring belongs to me. And the future of jewelry belongs to people like me. The glory days of Pavlin & Co are over.”

She turned and walked away, leaving behind the celebrated building that haunted her dreams. Knowing that in order to fulfill her destiny, she had to destroy her legacy.

6

There had been a time when Elodie walked into the Café Carlyle and felt utterly at home amidst the elite crowd of New Yorkers and moneyed tourists. The Carlyle, on the corner of Madison and East Seventy-Sixth Street, shined like a beacon of the best New York City had to offer. It represented an old world that Elodie increasingly felt slipping away.

The staff still greeted her by name. But since her mother had passed away, there was a hollow feeling to the space. The first night she’d come for dinner after losing Constance, it was all she could do to keep down her martini—Belvedere Vodka, straight up with a twist. Two years later, seated in that dark and clubby room, she felt surrounded by ghosts. The ghosts of her parents, the ghosts of the legendary artists who had performed at the piano bar, and maybe the ghost of her former self, the one who believed she’d be truly happy once she was finally given her rightful place at the helm of the company.