Page 145 of The Protégé

Orion texted me, asking me to get ready to visit my father’s apartment. I’d given myself enough time to accept this, and I was ready to discover more about him.

With amusement in his eyes, Orion gestured to the lock on the door. “Wanna try to break in with the skills you’ve learned? I know you’ve been watching all the videos on the shared drive.”

“What kind of person would I be if I broke into my father’s apartment? I’ll pass.”

I supposed he’d been keeping his eye on me even though he’d been busy. When I needed a break from working or researching for my articles, I watched his videos on various locks and how to pick them.

I’d never imagined myself doing this, but since I was in love with a thief, and my father was also a thief, I figured I should get to know them well.

Something else was going on with Orion. He seemed distant. Or was it me? Had I become distant because I couldn’t forget his expression when Jasper had insulted his ex-fiancée?

Was I being paranoid? I hated this feeling.

Let it go.

I entered the apartment decorated in various shades of brown and traditional wooden furniture. Two dark browncouches, sage throw pillows, and a black rug offered a masculine appeal. The sturdy coffee table looked like it would last a lifetime. The craftsmanship was exceptional. He had boxes scattered on the floor and stacked in corners. His bookshelf was crammed with books. Random art decorated the walls, and I wondered if it had been stolen or bought.

“Are those paintings originals?” I asked.

“No. Unlike me, he kept very little of what he stole. We have distinct taste in art. He sold his art for money and used it to help others. Pablo didn’t live a lavish lifestyle.”

“You help people too,” I said, remembering how he’d bought me the car and donated money to several charities anonymously. Ralph had let that slip.

I walked over and noticed my high school yearbook. I removed it from the shelf and opened it. A newspaper clipping of me holding a certificate fell out from between the pages. I’d won a writing contest in ninth grade about what I wanted to do when I got older. Back then, I wanted to own a media company. Such big dreams for a little girl.

“You look cute.” Orion looked over my shoulder.

Had my father wished he could’ve congratulated me? I could only imagine the pain and regret he’d felt. He probably didn’t want to interrupt my life. A part of me wished he had attempted to reach out. There were so many what-ifs in life. What if I died tomorrow and didn’t have time to do the things I wanted to do or say what was on my mind?

I looked over at Orion, who was browsing the apartment. I knew he loved me. But to what extent? If Kate came back to life right now and stood beside me, whom would he choose? I knew I shouldn’t feel this way. But that emotion was burning inside me.

I had to deal with it. I didn’t want to waste precious time.

Returning the book to its position, I browsed through the one-bedroom apartment. Wooden figurines, boxes, chairs, and wooden bookcases adorned the quaint apartment.The disarray in his living space mimicked mine.

“I guess I took after him, huh?” I gestured to the disorder.

“It’s organized chaos.” Smiling, he tapped my forehead. “I’ve always admired those who know how to navigate a mess. I don’t function that way, but others thrive in that environment.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“Come.” He took my hand, leading me to the couch.

I sat down and ran a hand over the coffee table with pretty etchings. “The craftsmanship is extraordinary.”

“He’s a great woodworker. Very handy. He taught me how to fix things around the house, like your back deck.”

“But you don’t need to do those things. You can afford to hire people.”

“Sometimes it’s not about the money, but the reason you’re doing something.” He looked at me. “I repaired your deck because I wanted to put in the effort. The process gave me time to think and clear my head.”

“And to attract all the single women in the neighborhood.”

“I’m not interested in being anyone’s handyman but yours.”

I smiled. “I’ll put you to work.”

Orion reached for a wooden box from under the coffee table and gave it to me. It was about nine inches long and six inches wide, with intricate carvings all around. A card attached to the top of the lid read: Old Receipts.

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