Parisian Affair by Judith Gould

strode over to her vanity table,
where she sat down and looked at her reflection in the baroque
Venetian mirror over it.
    Her gaze studied her carefully dyed black
hair pinned back in a loose chignon; her perfectly arched and dyed
brows; her subtly made-up eyes, face, and lips. She shrugged out of
her silk dressing gown, and her eyes surveyed her flesh. A web of
wrinkles traversed her neck and the cleavage between her once
lovely, firm breasts, which now hung like useless appendages. Soft,
dimpled skin exhibited itself from between her arms and chest.
Simply lifting an arm exposed the loose, aging flap of a woman far
beyond her prime.
    She was still a beauty—a mature beauty—but
the ravages of time were taking their inevitable toll, and no
amount of cosmetic surgery and makeup could conceal her loss of
youth. But no matter. Now that these physical assets had deserted
her, she had others to put to use.
    She raised her glass in a toast. You're
brillia nt, she said to her reflection. As your legend grows
in the eyes of the entire world, as it's burnished beyond the
brightness of mere stars, no one will know who you really are and
what you are really doing. No one will know the vengeance you're
extracting until it's far too late.
    There was a soft knock, and the princess
shifted her gaze from her mirror image to the door. It would be
Mimi, her devoted housekeeper of many years. Slipping back into her
silk dressing gown, she called out to her. 'Come in, Mimi,' she
said, placing her drink on the vanity.
    The door opened quietly, and the ancient,
wrinkle-faced woman hobbled into the room, her small, close-set
eyes focused on her mistress. Despite her advanced age and slow
movements, she was still sharp-witted and strong, with the stamina
of the peasant stock from which she came. 'The men from Dufour are
here, madame,' she said.
    'Already?' the princess asked, turning to
face Mimi. 'I had no idea it was so late.'
    'Shall I have them wait for you to dress,
madame?' Mimi asked.
    'No,' Princess Karima replied. 'You can show
them in. They'll only be a minute.'
    The old woman nodded, then turned and left
the room, closing the door behind her. Princess Karima had a sip of
her drink and lit another cigarette. Taking one last lingering
glance in the mirror, she rose to her feet and crossed to her desk.
She picked up the box that held the emerald ring and started to
open it again, but decided against it. Putting the box back on the
desk, she went around to her chair and sat down, flicked ash off
her cigarette into the ashtray, and waited for the Dufour security
detail. Her fingernail lacquer shone in the small pool of light
cast by the desk lamp, but she was in the shadows; her features
were barely visible, though her dark eyes glittered.
    There was another soft knock at the door.
' Entrez ,' the princess commanded imperiously.
    Mimi opened the door, then stood aside to let
two men enter. They stood silently in the triangle of light emitted
from the hallway. One of them appeared to be no more than twenty
and was a tall, strong-looking specimen with short-cropped blond
hair. The other was middle-aged, his muscular body covered with
layers of fat. Both of them wore dark blue livery, somewhat like
police uniforms, and there were holstered guns on their belts. They
held their caps in their hands.
    'Please, gentlemen,' she said. 'Come forward.
I assume you brought the paperwork I have to sign?'
    'Yes , madame la princesse ,' the older
one said, nodding and stepping forward slightly.
    The younger man lifted his gaze from the
floor and looked toward Princess Karima. She saw his cap quiver
slightly in his big, powerful- looking hands. She rose to her feet
and came from behind the desk. 'The ring is there,' she said,
indicating the box with a hand.
    'I have the paperwork here, madame la
princesse ,' the older man said, holding out a folder in one
hand. His head was nodding rapidly, and he was smiling widely.
'With your permission, madame la