Page 31 of Diamond In The Rough

“Your chest,” he chuckles, inhaling again. “No, boss. Though I wish I was going with you. I wanna see how she sells it.”

“Jakeline?”

“Ms. Hale. She has a flair for the romantic, and I suspect she does her job because she enjoys the artifacts, not necessarily because she admires Jakeline. But I like the story behind the chest. I wish it was me she was selling it to.”

“Don’t think about her and romance again.” I push off from the counter and charge across the greenhouse, past potted ferns and away from the article filled with vitriol. Shoving through the door and into the filthy heat outside, I enjoy the breeze my speed creates, the air bouncing off the sweat coating my skin to create an almost-cooling sensation. “I’ll call you later if I have questions.”

“Hey!” Felix shouts across the lawn as I pass and kill my call. “You look like you’re heading out to hurt someone.”

“I’m not.” I drop the phone into my pocket, and quickening my steps until I’m practically jogging, I burst into the house and head upstairs to shower off and clean up.

I know that by the time I get into the city and walk through the doors of Colby’s Antiques, it’ll be closing in on five o’clock. The end of the business day. But I’m determined to speak to Tiia. To get closer, and hopefully interact without the violence we’ve shared up to now.

I want to speak to her on her terms, on her turf. See how she handles herself when she’s expected to make a sale and remain professional.

I plan to put seventy grand in her boss’s pocket today. The least Ms. Hale can do is stay after hours and talk me through my purchase.

8

TIIA

I SAID I WASN’T HIS ENEMY. I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT ALWAYS TELLING THE TRUTH.

“Close the blinds,” Jakeline orders, stepping out of her office and crossing the shop to stop by the till.

It’s rare, if ever, that we have cash in excess of the float in there, since buyers seldom use paper money for the items we have for sale. It’s not like your standard guy who walks in off the street is carrying multiple thousands in his pockets. But she hits the till buttons anyway, popping the drawer open to take out enough for her needs tonight.

Dinner on the way home, maybe. A bottle of wine to celebrate the English desk she no longer has in her possession.

“I’d like you to vacuum the floors.” She slaps the register closed and folds a couple of fifties in her palm. “And water the plants by the window.”

That’s not my job, jerk!

“Close the store at five on the dot.” She steps around the register and settles her oversized purse on the crook of her arm. “If casual shoppers are wandering through, shoo them out. They won’t buy anything, anyway, and wasting our time should be a crime.”

“Yes, Ms. Colby.” I weave past my desk and to the small closet at the back of the store. After taking out a spray bottle and a cloth, I prepare to not only water the single pothos plant we have, but clean the dust off the leaves, too. “I’ll be sure to lock up and set the alarms.”

“Good.” She lifts her head and shoulders, pointing her chin as she starts toward the door. “It’s nice to see you finally taking some initiative. Lazy employees are cancer to a business.”

She grabs the door handle, but looks back in my direction, her eyes glittering with unkindness. “I was concerned about you being here, Tiia. Unconvinced that my good deed would be rewarded.” Your ‘good deed’? I work for practically free! “But your dealings with Mr. Harrison yesterday undoubtedly showed me a different side of you.”

She pulls the door open and faces forward again, only to jump and let out a squeal of fright when a man waits on the other side.

Micah Malone wears a suit again. His hair, damp and combed carefully to the side. His tie, knotted and perfectly centered.

He looks straight past Jakeline, like he doesn’t notice her at all. Instead, he burns me with a glare, staring directly into my soul.

“Oh my goodness!” Jakeline giggles like a brainless schoolgirl. I know she sees money in the clip holding his tie, and the cufflinks affixed to his shirt. She surely sees dollar signs, because even I, a non-suit-aficionado, can tell his ensemble comes with a hefty price tag.

But then she looks up and takes stock of his face. The hard lines. The gritting jaw.

Anyone who has lived in New York for longer than a minute, and who reads a newspaper, would recognize that face. And because she does, she repeats, “Oh my goodness.” But this one comes out breathier. More sultry, though I’m not sure that was her intent.

Regardless, Micah doesn’t pay her any attention. His bold green eyes focus solely on me. On the spray bottle I hold like a gun. The rag fisted in my hand.

He can’t possibly see the way my heart pounds. But I feel it.

I hear it.

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