by Krista Lakes
“Oh,” Charlotte said, looking back at it with a keen eye. “It's still beautiful, though.”
“Yes, yes it is,” I agreed. “Things don't have to be worth much to still be beautiful.”
She nodded and smiled at me. “How's your dad?”
“Grumpy,” I answered and she laughed. “He hates being stuck in bed. Throw in that he's now going to be responsible for all the paperwork while there's amazing antique furniture down here—let's just say he's a bit of a grouch.”
Charlotte nodded. “And what about you? How are you doing?”
I looked around at the foyer and the massive amount of work I had to get done. “Stressed,” I answered honestly. “But this-” I held up the camera and took another picture. “will keep my mind off of Dad, so it's all good.”
Charlotte played with her phone, flipping it between her fingers as she watched me work. “You two seem close,” she commented.
I nodded, taking another picture. “We are. It's been just him and me since my mom died, and then we work together at the family business. It means we spend a lot of time together.”
“I'm sorry,” she said quickly. I turned and frowned, lowering my camera.
“For what?”
“Your mom.” Charlotte bit the inside of her cheek and shrugged.
“Oh... Thank you,” I stammered, feeling awkward. “It was five years ago. Cancer.”
The words came out flat. I had learned to just say it quickly, giving out when and how as simply as possible. People always wanted to know, and if I just told them, they would usually stop asking and not make me dredge up the bad memories.
“I'm sorry,” Charlotte repeated, blushing slightly.
“Not your fault,” I told her, raising my camera back up. I pointed to a small marble figurine of a woman with flowing robes. “Would you mind holding up that statue? I need a size reference.”
“Sure.” She smiled, happy that we weren't on the subject of my dead mom anymore. Since she was a foster kid, she probably knew all too well how it felt. She held up the statue and smiled like a model.
“Perfect,” I told her with a grin, snapping another picture. “You're a natural.”
“It's my fallback career,” she replied with a laugh. She paused for a moment, looked up, and chewed the inside of her cheek again. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
I lowered the camera and peered at her. I had no idea where this was going. “Um, sure?”
“Are you seeing anyone?” Charlotte turned bright red. “I know that this is a weird question, but I might have someone who would be interested.”
I swallowed hard, wanting to be delicate. She couldn't possibly mean Bastian, but that just left Marcus or Elijah, neither of whom I was remotely interested in.
“I recently broke up with my boyfriend,” I finally answered, making sure to accent the 'boyfriend' just in case. “It was kind of brutal, so I'm really not interested in a relationship right now. Thanks for holding that.”
“No problem. I'm sorry about the breakup. Guys suck.” Charlotte frowned and set down the statue. She chewed on her cheek for another moment. “Wanna tell me how terrible he was? It'll make you feel better. And I'm dying to talk to someone who answers relationship questions in sentences longer than 'yeah, she's hot.'”
She had the male answer down pat. I laughed. It had been awhile since I had some good girl time. Watching her light up at the chance, I had a feeling she felt the same. Working with Bastian all day wouldn't leave much time for friends, and Elijah didn't seem like much of a talker.
“Yeah.” I pointed to another statue. “You mind being a model for a little longer?
“Gets me out of real work.” She grinned and picked it up, holding it up for me to photograph. “So, brutal breakup?”
I snapped her picture. “I walked in on him banging the hot waitress he swore he wasn't interested in. That was kind of a deal breaker for me.”
“Ouch.” Charlotte grimaced and I laughed as I caught it on camera. That one was not going in the catalog. “Were you two serious?”
I sighed, feeling the sting of heartbreak again. As much as I wanted it all to be over, the betrayal still hurt. “He was talking about proposing.”
“Damn, girl.”
“It gets worse.” I gave her a half smile. “We work together, so I have to see him all the time. The first week after I caught him, I couldn't even be in the same room. Talk about awkward.”
“That sucks,” Charlotte agreed. I nodded and pointed to another figurine. She quickly set hers down to pick it up and pose again. “What does he do? Does he do appraisals too?”
“No, he's an auctioneer,” I said, shaking my head. “Since my aunt does the auction side of the business, he's technically her employee, but it's a small office.”
“He's sounds awful.”
I shrugged, lowering the camera. “I didn't even see it coming. He was talking about getting married and helping with the business more...” It had been months, but just thinking about it made my chest ache. “He swore he didn't find her attractive, and then I found out their little rendezvous had been going on for months.”
Charlotte set the statue down with a thunk and hurried over to hug me.
“Sounds like a total jerk,” she said, squeezing me tight. “I hope you at least slapped him or something.”
“I threw a lamp at his head. Does that count?”
Charlotte grinned, releasing me. “I knew I liked you.” She pointed to another statue. “This one next?”
I nodded. “Yeah, that's perfect.”
She picked it up and stood in the light, holding it perfectly for the camera. “How long ago did you break up?”
“A little over two months,” I replied, snapping her picture. “He's been trying to get me back since then.”
“Seriously?” Charlotte's smile dropped with disbelief.
“Yeah,” I shook my head. “He won't leave me alone. Emails, text messages, flowers at work. He keeps trying to remind me how awesome he is and how terribly lucky I was to even be with him. Like I should just get over the fact that he was sleeping around because he's God's gift to women. Chad's an idiot.”
“With a name like Chad, can you blame him?” Charlotte grinned at me. This was nice. I liked having someone feminine who wasn't related to me to talk to. I had friends back home, but telling them how badly I had misjudged Chad was embarrassing. They were all his friends too. He was the hometown hero and I was the nerdy girl he had picked up. Without him, I wasn't special. It was nice to have someone firmly on my side of the breakup.
I was thoroughly enjoying hanging out with Charlotte. Unfortunately, her phone chirped. She set down the statue, checked it and then put it back in her pocket with a frown. “Just a reminder that I have work to do. What are you doing for dinner tonight?”
“I have no idea,” I replied. “I haven't thought that far in advance yet.”
“It's my night off tonight. Want to have a girl's night?” Hope shone on her face. Charlotte needed a friend as much as I did.
“I would love to have a girl's night.” It was just the change of scenery I needed. Dad would be fine on his own tonight, especially with the doctor just minutes away. It was better than sitting and fretting all night.
“Excellent!” Charlotte beamed and picked up another statue. “I'll come get you at seven and we'll go to the local hotspot. They make the best daiquiris.”
I snapped another picture as she posed for me. “What about you? You have a special someone?”
She blushed a deep red and shook her head. “Nope.”
“Uh huh.”
She rolled her eyes. “There's someone I wouldn't mind dating, but I think he just sees me as an extension of Bastian.” I frowned and she immediately held up her hands. “No, it's okay. I'm so busy right now that I don't have time to see anyone anyway.”
I was about to say something uplifting, but Charlotte's phone started to ring. She set down the statue and mouthed a sorry
before answering. “This is Charlotte Page, how may I help you?”
I moved to a painting, trying my best not to listen to her phone conversation, but her voice echoed through the big foyer.
“Oh, hi Leo... yes... okay, I can do that... Give me just one second.” Charlotte touched my arm, and pointed to her phone with an apologetic face.
“Go, go,” I whispered. “Thank you for helping me. I'll see you at seven.”
Charlotte grinned and then hurried up the stairs, talking into the phone with Leo.
I smiled after her, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. I had only been here for a couple of days but I already felt comfortable here. I even had a friend. It felt good. Without worrying about seeing Chad all the time, having to remind him that he betrayed me and that no, we weren't getting back together, I felt like me again.
I held up the camera to take another picture, shifting slightly to adjust for the light. I looked up to check my light source, only to see Bastian's walking back into his study. My cheeks turned hot enough to start a wildfire and I hoped that he hadn't been listening to Charlotte and my conversation.
It was embarrassing admitting that I had been so stupid with Chad. I wanted Bastian to think I was more than what I was at home. When he looked at me with those beautiful eyes, I didn't want him to see that I was someone else's left-overs. If I wasn't good enough for Chad, then there was no way I would be good enough for someone like Bastian. That made him the last person in the world that I wanted to know about Chad.
Chapter 11
Despite the myriad of rooms in the mansion, I sat in the first room I had started the appraisal. I liked this one, as it had the most comfortable couch I had found and the Morisot painting. After running around the house taking hundreds of photographs and reporting to Dad, I had taken the room over as my office. Now that daylight was fading, I had retreated to the couch to upload all the images to get them ready for my father to organize and edit.
I stood up to stretch as my ancient laptop processed another batch, wandering over to the Morisot picture. The natural light was fading, but the picture was still vibrant. I stared into it, absorbing each brush stroke and imagining myself sitting at a dock along the Seine.
“And I find you looking at that picture again,” a voice said from behind me. I spun startled to see Bastian leaning against the door frame. He was still wearing a full button-up dress shirt and slacks, but at least the top button on the shirt was undone. His eyes, blue-gray and fathomless were fixed on me.
I smiled, glancing back at the painting. “There's something about it that makes me think of Paris.”
He nodded thoughtfully before walking over and pointing to the painting further down the wall. “That one reminds me more of Paris. Yours makes me think of Cannes.”
“You've been to France?” I asked, looking at the other painting. It was a cityscape and I had to agree that it fit more with the image of the city of Paris than a boat did.
“Several times this year already,” he said, moving to stand beside me.“It's a growing market for our website.”
“Oh.” If I dropped my hand to my side, I would brush his with mine, so I held my hands carefully in my lap instead.
He turned his head to look at me, his gray eyes sharp and keen. “What about you? When was the last time you were in France?”
I shrugged, wrapping my arms around my middle like there was an empty pit in my soul. “I've never been.”
“No?” His eyes widened slightly. “But your specialty is French artwork. I thought I saw something in your resume about it.”
“I was accepted into an internship at the Louvre, but my mom got sick, so I didn't go.” I shifted my weight, and hugged myself a little tighter.
“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, sounding very much like Charlotte. “Was she in appraisals as well?”
“No, my mom was an artist. Her impressionist work was as good as the masters. She taught me how to see every brush stroke as important and to look for all the details in a piece.” I smiled fondly, diving into a memory. “We used to sit and talk in the mornings, and then during her chemo treatments, about going to Paris together. We had museums and tours all figured out. All the art we could take in.”
“And you didn't go?” Bastian's voice was low and soft.
“She died before we ever got a chance.” I shook my head, freeing myself from the memory. “I got a different internship and then things have just been so busy that I haven't found the time.”
I thought of adding, “or the funds,” but I doubted a billionaire would understand that part of my problem.
Bastian studied me for a moment, his gray eyes going over me like a painting, taking in every nuance of my face. I looked up at him, enjoying having his company all to myself for a moment. It reminded me of our sunrise out on the beach.
My heart skipped a beat as I realized how close he was. If I just leaned forward by only an inch or two, I would be nearly kissing him. His warmth radiated off him and I could smell the faintest hint of his aftershave and it was difficult not to inhale hard for more.
He glanced back at the painting for a moment before smiling back at me. “You'd like Paris. It's full of beautiful things. You'd fit in there.”
I blushed at the accidental compliment, biting my bottom lip in a bashful smile as I fiddled with a strand of hair. The thought of kissing him slipped into my mind again, and I nearly did before remembering who he was. I couldn't just kiss a billionaire because he said something nice to me.
“I looked up her work,” he said, turning to look at the painting again.
“Who?” I stammered, my brain spinning and sliding on the smell of his cologne. I took a step back in surprise and promptly lost my balance.
He caught me, wrapping me up in one of his arms before I even realized I was in danger of falling. His arm was steel muscle and I couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to have it wrapped around me in an entirely different room. I pressed my thighs together, struggling to keep the image of his arms on either side of me, his chest bare and strong above me, his hair falling into his eyes with exertion...
“You okay?” He hadn't let go of me yet, but I also hadn't fully regained the use of my legs yet either.
“Yeah,” I grinned, knowing I was blushing like a fool. “Just stepped back funny. I'm okay.”
He waited just an extra moment before releasing me. I didn't want him to let me go. I was considering falling again, just to have him touch me, but I didn't want to appear weak or too obvious.
“Berthe Morisot,” he replied, looking back at the painting. “One of the 'les trois grandes dames' of impressionism. I like this one, but there's something about her landscapes that appeal to me more.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised that he had even remembered her name. “Do you have a favorite?”
“'A Corner of the Rose Garden,'” he answered. A full smile filled my face. It was one of my favorites as well. It had always reminded me of mornings in my mother's garden when I was little.
“I can't believe you actually looked her up,” I said, tucking the strand of hair behind my ear.
“What?” He grinned. “A billionaire can't use Google?”
I laughed. “I don't know, is there a gold plated version?”
“Platinum.” He put on a straight face, but his eyes twinkled as he teased me. “Gold is for mere millionaires.”
I giggled and he grinned. His smile had the same warmth as it did at sunrise and the beauty of it made my heart flutter. When he smiled, the world lit up.
I wanted to ask him so many questions. I wanted to know why he was in foster care with Charlotte, and how he had found the way to turn a dating company into a billion dollar empire from that background. Where did he go to school? Did he have any hobbies other than paddle-boarding? What was his favorite color? I wanted to know everything about him.
“Hey, you ready, Ava?” Charlotte called, stomping into the doorway. She stopped as she saw the two of u
s standing remarkably close and looking at one another. “Damn, I need to work on my timing.”
“Are you two going out?” Bastian asked, a frown crossing his handsome features. It tugged at the scar on his cheek and eyebrow, making him look more serious than necessary. I liked the smile so much better.
“Yes,” Charlotte replied, coming to my other side. “Just to Surf Shack for some girl time.”
“Charlotte,” he began, the scar darkening, “I-”
“Think it's a great idea,” Charlotte finished for him. “Thank you, Bastian, for your opinion. We'll be fine.”
Bastian's lips tightened and he glared at her. Charlotte rolled her eyes at him and sighed.
“Do you want Elijah to come with us?” she asked, pointedly raising her eyebrows at him.
“Yes.” He nodded and the frown faded slightly. “It would make me feel better.”
“You hear that, Elijah?” Charlotte yelled out toward the hall. I winced slightly at the increase in volume so close to my ear. “You get to come to girl's night!”
Elijah's head popped into the doorway. “I'm not drinking one of those frou-frou drinks again with you, Charlotte.”
What had felt like a comfy, cozy, and possibly romantic location two seconds ago suddenly felt very public. I knew Elijah followed Bastian around everywhere, but the fact that he had been just outside the doorway listening to us flirt was a little daunting.
“Aw, you're no fun, Elijah.” Charlotte grinned wickedly at the bodyguard. “I was going to get you the one with whipped cream and the flower on the glass. I know how much you loved it last time.”
Elijah didn't say anything back and the room went silent for a beat.
“I guess we should be going then,” I said finally, feeling awkward. I wanted the moment before Charlotte arrived back. I wanted it to be just me and Bastian, giggling over art and flirting. I wondered for a moment if I canceled with Charlotte, if Bastian would stay and look at the painting with me.
“I should be getting back to work,” Bastian said, as if hearing my thoughts. I tried not to look disappointed. “You two have fun. And be careful.”
