Page 32 of Diamond In The Rough

“Just closing?” Micah rumbles, his voice low and commanding—and call me crazy, but I get the feeling he isn’t asking Jakeline. “Am I too late?”

“Ye—”

“Absolutely not.” Jakeline takes an exaggerated step back, extending her arm like she’s a magician’s assistant and I’m the rabbit. “We wish only to serve our clients, Mr. Malone.” Her voice cracks on his name; her fear, beating out her greed.

For a moment, anyway.

She recovers herself, and her voice is steady when she explains, “I am heading out, but Tiia will stay on and help you.”

“Jakeline—”

“Take your time,” she urges, waiting for the man to step into the shop. Then she swaps places with him, setting herself on the threshold. “It’s a shame,” she laments. “We sold the most beautiful desk yesterday. Distinguished and handsome, like yourself.”

Oh, for god’s sake. Close the door and go away.

“I’m looking for a chest, actually.” Micah strolls in, leaving a gaping Jakeline staring in his wake, her mouth hanging open and her eyes already registering the cash she thinks he’ll leave for her tonight.

Little does she know, he’s probably just here to kill me.

Or, at the very least, to say horrible things and hurt my feelings.

“I’ve been searching.” He wanders the store, running his fingertips across the top of a cabinet before slowing in front of a small table filled with pretty baubles. Necklaces. Brooches. Pins. “I heard Ms. Colby’s shop was in possession of a chest that might interest me.”

I peek past his broad shoulders and around muscular arms—noticeable even when wrapped in a thousand-dollar jacket—and when Jakeline flashes a giddy thumbs-up and closes the door, practically skipping away in glee, I shake my head and give up on any hope of being falsely polite.

“You can leave, Malone.” I bring my spray bottle up, prepared to use it if I must. “I don’t want to be near you, when you have no intention of being decent to me. And we don’t have any chests that might interest you.”

“That’s not true.” He leaves the table of jewelry and faces me instead, setting his hands in his pockets and looking me up and down. It’s ridiculous that he can wear a full suit, as though he’s heading to an upscale wedding, and I have to wear a cutesy dress, which is not at all suitable for throwing hands with a man, unless I want to appear undignified while doing it. “I heard a rumor about a particular chest this store is in possession of.” He lifts a single, infuriating brow. “I want you to sell it to me.”

“Fine.” I toss the rag to my desk, but keep my bottle and stalk across the store.

Thankfully, we only have one chest in stock worth mentioning, and it’s on the complete opposite side of the shop from where he stands.

“Here it is.” I almost want to kick it. To disrespect it the way I wish I could disrespect the man who wants it. “It’s a little expensive, though. Are you sure you can afford it?”

He chuckles. A chest-bouncing, throat-vibrating kind of laugh that has my eyes watching his neck.

If I’m not careful, I might actually humanize him. I might allow him to convince me that he’s just a man. A warm-blooded mortal, rather than a slug robot I’ve deemed scummier than pond sludge.

Starting in my direction, he keeps his steps slow. His movements, exceptionally lazy and unthreatening.

“Things are worth only as much as a man is willing to pay for it, Ms. Hale. When I told you to sell it to me, I didn’t mean literally. I meant…” He comes to a stop ten feet from where I stand. “Sell it to me. Convince me to buy it.”

“Oh, no thanks.” I fake a smile and circle around, leaving the man his corner so he can study the stupid chest on his own. Instead, I snatch up my rag and stride closer to the plant near the door. “I don’t convince people to buy things. Usually, the treasure they’ve discovered sells itself. My job is simply to facilitate the exchange of money and organize shipping, if shipping is required.”

With jerky, angry movements, I spray the top of the pothos and set the bottle down so I can work on cleaning the dusty leaves.

“It’s a chest,” I grunt. “It’s made of some kind of wood. Someone else used to own it.” And if Jakeline could hear me right now, I’d be on my ass so fast, I wouldn’t even have time to grab my spray bottle. “I think it’s old, though I can’t be sure. Hit up any garage sale out in the boroughs this weekend and you’ll probably score one much the same, but at a fraction of the cost.”

“You’re good at this, huh?” He turns on his heels, ignoring the very thing he claims to have come in to buy. “You have a passion for selling antiques. Your spiel has moved me.”

“Has it moved you right out the door?” I straighten my back and glance across to meet his eyes. “I could go on with my pitch, if not.”

He sniggers, dropping his shoulders and head in a kind of submission. “I’ve really offended you.” He peers up through long lashes. “It’s my job to protect my family, Ms. Hale. And your ‘I know nothing about the chest I’m supposed to be selling’ does nothing to further your argument that you are who you say you are.”

“I no longer wish to play your game.” I spin back to the pothos and continue wiping. “You’ve decided you have a problem with me. You’re intent on engaging in this back-and-forth, so much so that you’ve come to my place of work, after accosting me last night at the restaurant I chose to dine in. You’re seeking me out, not the other way around. So I figure, me staying away isn’t achieving the result I’m looking for. So if I simply ignore you…”

And so I do. I spray and wipe and pretend I’m in this store all on my own.

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