by Krista Lakes
Elijah went to reach for the bag, but she pulled it back, wanting a response before she would give it to him. “Yes, ma'am,” the big man said, rolling his eyes. “As long as there's one in there for me, too.”
“Have I ever let you down?” Charlotte asked, not letting go of the bag.
Elijah growled and she let go of the bag.
“What's 'hangry'?” I asked, not recognizing the word.
“You know when you haven't eaten, and it makes you mad at everything for no real good reason? That's hangry,” Charlotte explained as Elijah nearly ripped open the bag and pulled out some sort of breakfast sandwich. He immediately began to devour it. She raised her eyebrows at the big man. “You'll make sure?”
“Yes, I'll make sure he eats. I'm the one he takes his temper out on if I forget,” Elijah informed her, stuffing the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth. I kept waiting for him to comment to me about last night, but he never did. After finishing his sandwich, Elijah nodded politely to everyone in the kitchen and hurried back out carrying his coffees and sandwiches to Mr. Belrose.
I shook my head, unsure of how the tiny brunette survived bossing around the giant bodyguard. He certainly scared me a little. I sat down at the table across from Dad. He was staring into his coffee like it held the answers to the universe.
“You okay, Dad?” I asked, kicking him gently under the table when he didn't look up. “You don't look like you slept well. Or did you just stay up all night talking to Jackie?”
He narrowed his eyes at me, but took a sip of his coffee. He hated when I teased him about Jackie. As much as he insisted that the adorable woman from next door wasn't his girlfriend, the two of them spent an awful lot of time talking on the phone whenever they were apart.
“No, Jackie had to work today, so we didn't talk long.” He took another big sip of his coffee and I smiled. He had been talking with her. I liked Jackie and I was glad that my father had someone in his life that cared for him. He rubbed his jaw and looked up at me. “Remind me to get a dentist appointment when we get home. I think I have something wrong with one of my teeth.”
“If you'd like, I can have someone here on the island look at it,” Charlotte offered from her spot against the center island. She came and sat down at the table next to me. “There are several doctors, dentists, and other medical services located on the island that Mr. Belrose has access too. As his guests, you would have access to them as well.”
“Like, concierge doctors?” I asked, taking a sip of my perfectly sweetened coffee. I had heard of doctors that catered to the rich and famous, but I had yet to actually ever meet any. I didn't make anywhere near the kind of money that required.
Charlotte nodded. “Basically. Since this island is known for it's expensive tastes, the doctors here are all world class. The doctor on our retainer even has his own portable x-ray machine as well as a whole car full of medical equipment. He's like a driving hospital.”
Dad took a sip of coffee and nodded. “If it's not a bother, Charlotte. I'd be very much obliged to have that dentist take a look at it.”
I frowned. My dad hated doctors. Hated them with a passion, especially after what we went through with Mom. I knew he must be in a fair amount of pain to willingly see one.
“I'll see to it,” Charlotte promised, pulling out her phone and making a note. She then looked over at the woman cooking and grinned. “Now, Lucia makes the best omelets and french toast on the entire island and it looks like she's ready.”
I grinned as the apron donned woman came over with two heaping plates of food. She carefully set each plate down in front of my father and I, as if we were her children and she was feeding us breakfast. It smelled like breakfast heaven and had my mouth watering.
“Will Mr. Belrose be joining us?” I asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. After this morning, particularly the way he had smiled, I found myself hoping that he would come and sit next to me. I wouldn't even try to tackle him or anything.
“Bastian? No.” Charlotte shook her head and picked up her fork. “He doesn't exactly do breakfast.”
Lucia made a “harumph” noise as she placed more food on the table. “Not for my lack of trying.”
“Oh,” I replied, doing my best not to be disappointed. “I saw him out on the beach earlier. I thought that since he was up, he would be here.”
“He'll be out on the water until his first meeting,” Charlotte answered, her eyes following Lucia as she put a steaming plate of food down in front of her. She was practically drooling on the table for her omelet. “If he could get decent phone reception out in the cove, he'd take all his meetings out on that paddle-board. Though, I swear, if he breaks another one, I'm going to have to strangle the man.”
“Breaks another one?” I asked. My voice squeaked just a little bit, but luckily no one seemed to notice.
Charlotte sighed. “The things are not that easy to break, but he seems to enjoy destroying them. He can certainly afford to, but it's kind of an ongoing issue between the two of us.”
“Oh.” I smiled secretly to myself, waiting for my food. I now understood why he was sneaking out of the house with the board wrapped up. I wasn't about to tattle on him to Charlotte, though.
“Lucia, no french toast for me please. This looks even better than usual.” Charlotte said, as Lucia put the food down in front of her.
The older woman smiled and wiped her hands on her apron. “Well then, get to eating before it gets cold.”
I looked at my plate, unsure of what delicious thing I wanted to eat first. The omelets were cheesy and gooey with all sorts of perfectly cooked, fresh vegetables and the french toast was thick and steaming. I went for the french toast first, as there was real maple syrup on the table, and nearly moaned. The outside was the perfect level of crispy while the inside was melt-in-my mouth soft.
“Lucia,” I groaned. “This is fantastic!”
She beamed and stood up a little taller. She wore her apron with pride. “Thank you very much, miss. I'm glad you like it.” She wiped her hands on her apron one more time and then went back to the kitchen, turning on the sink and washing dishes while she hummed a happy song.
The mark of good food, silence, sat comfortably around the three of us as we ate. I couldn't believe how good the food tasted here. I could tell that everything was fresh and of the highest quality. Charlotte finished her meal first.
“So what are your plans today? If you tell me your schedule, I can make sure there is food available for you,” she said, getting up and putting her plate in the sink.
Dad pulled out his bag and placed his tablet and one of the maps Charlotte had given us the night before. He had color coded sections and a key on the bottom. “I thought I would take this room,” he said, pointing to a room in canary yellow. He then moved to one in red. “Ava, you can start in this one. Then, we'll switch and double check one another's work.”
“Thus, turning the room orange,” I replied, quickly stuffing another bite of french toast in my mouth as soon as I finished speaking.
Charlotte peeked over my shoulder and saw my red colored room. “Ava, could I come watch you this afternoon? There's a picture in that room that I'm curious about.” She paused, biting her lip, as if afraid I might say no. “It's an impressionist piece, but that's all I know about it. I'm hoping you could tell me more, if you have the time.”
I nodded, trying to swallow my bite of food before talking. “I'd love to teach you, Charlotte. Impressionism is actually one of my specialties.”
Charlotte grinned from ear to ear, her pretty brown eyes glowing. I could already feel the bonds of friendship forming between the two of us. Anyone who wanted to learn more about my favorite style of art had an instant in with me.
I reluctantly swallowed the last bite of food on my plate. I wished I hadn't gobbled it all up quite so quickly, but it was just so delicious that I couldn't help it. I glanced over at my dad's plate to see if he had eaten his as quickly as I had, only to discover
most of the food was still on his plate. I was a little concerned since this was a man who usually ended up finishing my plates.
“You okay, Dad?” I asked, snagging a bite of his french toast. It was just as delicious as mine had been. “You've barely eaten.”
He looked down at his plate in surprise. “I guess I still have some indigestion from last night,” he admitted. Seeing the worry written all over my face, he smiled and put his big hand on mine. “Don't worry. I'll be fine. It's just this tooth.”
I stood up, picking up my plate. Dad took a bite and then pushed his at me to take away. I frowned. Our dinner hadn't been anything that should have caused indigestion. I did my best to smile, though. He would be fine. He was as strong as a horse. There wasn't anything that ever got him down. When the rest of us were sick with the flu, he was always the one running around making soup because he didn't catch it. He'd be fine.
“That was delicious,” I said to Lucia, putting our plates in the sink. She looked at Dad's plate and I shrugged. I didn't know quite what to think of it either.
“You ready to get started, Kiddo?” Dad asked, packing his colored maps and tablet into his shoulder bag. I nodded and grinned. I was more than ready.
Chapter 6
Charlotte walked with us out of the kitchen, leading the way to the main foyer. It was there that Dad and I were going to split up and start on our separate rooms. The foyer made a great middle point for us to base our attack around.
“Hold on a second kiddo,” Dad said, eying a something along the far wall. “I know this room isn't first on my list, but I have to look at something.”
I followed his gaze to see a small table pressed up against the far wall and I instantly knew why he wanted to look at it. It looked like an Alexander Roux piece. He had a definite fondness for the 1800's Rococo Revival style cabinetmaker. When Charlotte had given him the room full of Roux pieces, she had unwittingly given him one of his biggest dreams. The man had a Roux calendar on his wall, for heaven's sakes.
“Go for it,” I said, shaking my head and grinning.
He nearly ran over to the small table, with me not far behind. Although paintings and art were more my thing, I knew a good piece of furniture when I saw one.
The table was small and made of rosewood and marble. Intricate designs covered the open spaces, highlighting the beauty of the warm brown wood beneath. My father's hand trailed reverently across the smooth surface of the table, his knowledgeable fingers gleaning information from just the touch.
“It certainly looks like an Alexander Roux piece,” Dad said reverently. He went to his knees and looked underneath, practically trembling with excitement. “And it looks like it's signed. Let me get my glasses to check...”
He sat back, patting his pockets for his glasses. I shook my head, knowing that they were in his left breast pocket but that it would take him a good thirty seconds to find them. Instead of waiting, I just went over and looked at it myself.
“What do you think of the piece?” Charlotte asked. “Mr. Belrose had it appraised before at close to twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“Well, it would be if it were authentic,” I replied, snapping a picture of the engraved signature with my phone. “But, unless Alexander Roux forgot how to spell his name properly, the signature is false. I hope you didn't pay that much for it.”
Sticking my hand out from under the desk, I handed the phone to my father and heard him sigh sadly as he looked at it. Despite the table's beauty, the mark spelled Roux as Row.
“A forgery?” A stern, deep voice echoed around the room, and I bumped my head on the desk. I wiggled free of the table and stood up to catch my first glimpse of the confident owner of a false Roux piece.
It was him. It was Sebastian Belrose.
I immediately wished I could duck back under the table and hide.
Mr. Belrose was descending the stairs, wearing a dark, three-piece suit that fit him like a glove. I remembered he had worn something similar last night, despite the heat. My mouth went dry, not only at the incredibly attractive way he looked, but at the fact that I had just flippantly spoken to billionaire Sebastian Belrose. Again. At least I hadn't tried bodily harm this time.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and I could see the scar again. It was dark against his stern face. He looked at me, his eyes like gray mist across the ocean and full of just as many secrets and I forgot to breathe.
Realizing that I was now staring, I quickly looked back and the table, hoping my blush wasn't too obvious.
“It's still a beautiful table, and it is in Alexander Roux's style. It could be that someone suspected he was the maker and wanted to increase the value of the piece, so they added the signature themselves.” I was rambling now, trying to explain myself. It didn't help that I was now thinking very clearly of how I had tried to tackle him last night. How was I going to explain that to my father? And now I had just told him his table was a fake. I was the best employee ever. “Even with the fake signature, I would still expect it to fetch around ten thousand at auction.”
When I looked back up, he had silently crossed the large room and was now standing in front of me. It was hard to be this close to such a powerful man and not shake, especially when I found him even more attractive up close. His frown was tight, as he must have been displeased with my findings.
“Miss Fairchild, I presume.” His voice was stern and hard as he held out his hand.
I took it, giving him the firmest, most professional handshake I could muster. Unfortunately, my blush was searing up my chest and lighting my cheeks. I couldn't believe that I had just knocked off fifteen thousand dollars off one of his antiques and then stared at him like a star-struck teenager. It was looking like my second impression wasn't much better than my first.
“It's a pleasure to meet you, sir,” I managed, feeling tongue-tied and awkward. He had so much class and poise that it left me fumbling for words. I wasn't quite sure what I was supposed to say. I had technically already met him last night, and again this morning.
He nodded, releasing my hand. My skin tingled from where we had touched, but if he felt anything similar, his face didn't show it. If anything, he seemed more guarded and stern.
“Carl Fairchild,” my father said, extending his hand. “If your appraiser missed the signature, I do hope you found another before he got too far.”
Mr. Belrose took his hand. “That's why I hired you. According to the head of the Society of Appraisers, you are the best at what you do. You and your staff come highly recommended.”
My father's chest puffed out slightly in pride. “Thank you, sir. I'd like to think that we are.” He wrapped a heavy arm over my shoulder. “My daughter here is certainly the best art appraiser I've ever met.”
Mr. Belrose's blue-gray eyes went to mine again, entangling me in their smoky depths. I couldn't help but wonder what he thought of me. I was just glad that he wasn't bringing up last night. I glanced at my father, but Mr. Belrose gave me just the slightest of head shakes. I nodded. As far as anyone else was concerned, last night didn't happen. I didn't want my father to know, and he didn't want Charlotte to know.
“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” Mr. Belrose said, breaking off his gaze and looking at my father instead. “If either of you need anything, please let Charlotte know.”
I wished I wasn't blushing so hard. I wished I had been more polite about dismissing the signature on the piece. I wished I hadn't tried to tackle him, though at least now we had a shared secret. I wished I had been able to brush my teeth after breakfast before standing in front of Mr. Belrose with coffee breath.
Unfortunately, there wasn't much I could do about any of those things at this point.
Mr. Belrose evaluated both of us for a moment, his gray eyes taking in every detail and filing it away. My stomach churned, wondering what he must think of the unkempt, flippant girl in front of him. I wanted to melt into the floor. He turned to leave, stopping to speak with Charlotte as he crossed
the tiled floor.
“Miss Page, please remind them about the study,” he said softly to his assistant. It was just loud enough for me to make out the words. I had a feeling that wasn't a mistake. The man didn't seem capable of making a mistake.
“Don't worry, boss,” she told him with a grin. “Now, get going or you'll be late for your meeting.”
He nodded and continued his walk to the front door. Without another word, he opened it and stepped outside, leaving me staring after him and trying to figure him out.
He had this fancy, over-the-top house that he was selling for some reason. No one had said why yet, and since it really wasn't any of my business, I hadn't asked. Yet, the kitchen didn't match and he had a secret study that no one was allowed in. The man was the CEO of a billion dollar company, but he paddle-boarded out on the ocean by himself every morning, and didn't want his assistant to know he had broken a board he could obviously afford.
He intrigued me. There was something about him that made me want to know more, something about the way he held himself and the self confidence he radiated that made me curious about him. I shook my head. He was a mystery, but one that I knew I should stay away from. He was a billionaire and way out of my league.
“Interesting fellow, your boss,” my father said after the door closed. I couldn't help but agree.
“That he is,” Charlotte replied, putting on a fresh smile. “But, you just impressed him.”
“Impressed him?” I nearly laughed. “I just devalued a possible Alexander Roux.”
Charlotte chuckled. “And you think he didn't know that? Why do you think it's sitting out here as the first thing you would see? It was a test and you passed with flying colors.”
I opened my mouth and then closed it. It was a clever tactic, and one that had worked incredibly well. If he wanted to make sure we were going to do the appraisal correctly, putting the false signature was a good way to test our skills. I smiled slightly, suddenly proud that I had passed a test I didn't know I was taking.
