Chapter Three

I closed the front door carefully behind me, listening for the subtle click to indicate it had shut. Dinner had been delicious, even if Charlotte hadn't been able to join us. Dad hadn't eaten much of the conch soup, even though he said it reminded him of Boston clam chowder. I had eaten more tropical fruit than a monkey, stuffing my face with papayas and mangoes fresh off the trees. It was practically a dessert.

I stepped out on the big front porch, taking a deep breath of night air. It was humid and moist and everything I needed right now. It wasn't home. I could be someone else here. I wasn't the dumped ex-girlfriend, or the local library book-nerd, or the daughter struggling to save her father's beloved antique business.

As my father's only child, I was the proud heir to his legacy. I loved working with antiques and running my father's business with my aunt and cousins. Dad had been attempting to wean himself off the appraisal circuit, but a recent arson fire had set him back. Due to a faulty sprinkler system at our company's warehouse, over five million dollars of art and antiques had been destroyed. Sure, the insurance companies were covering all of the damage, but the blow to our company's image had been devastating.

It didn't matter that Dad checked the security systems and fire prevention units daily. It also didn't matter that the fire inspector had declared both the sprinkler system and the cause of the fire arson. As far as the public was concerned, Fairchild Auctions and Appraisals had let five million dollars burn.

But I didn't need to think about that now. My mind was already planning and preparing for tomorrow. A quick tour from Charlotte had revealed that the mansion was even bigger than I had suspected. A family of fifteen could live there and never see one another except at meals, and even then that was only if they wanted to use the main kitchen. Every room was full of antiques and art. It was going to be a fair amount of work, but work that I was excited about.

Several paintings stood out in my memory as ones I couldn't wait to get a closer look at. Every room had art that made my fingers itch to look closer at. I knew my father felt the same way about the furniture. Even though this was technically work, it was work we were born to do. Getting to study antiques and art of this caliber was practically a vacation. I would have appraised this house for free, just for the opportunity to work with what I had seen on some of the walls.

Furtive movement caught my eye. I was standing on the edge of the big front entrance, but I had a clear view of the nearby kitchen doorway, and someone was struggling to get something out. Whatever it was, the package was large and the person was trying very hard to be quiet.

I frowned. Elijah had said to notify him of anything strange, but standing here in the dark, I had no idea how to get a hold of him. I bit my lip, trying to figure out what to do next.

The figure stepped into the light coming off one of the security lights and I could see that he had what looked like a hastily-covered painting. The figure glanced anxiously from side to side, as if looking for someone.

I had seen that look before. The night the museum I was interning at was robbed, I had seen someone from an upper window. The way the painting was wrapped, the careful movements, even the shape of the man was exactly the same as that night. I knew I had to do something. That man was obviously stealing a painting from the house.

Be brave, I told myself. Remember those self defense classes...

I didn't think. I just took a deep breath, and yelled my scariest, most alarm-raising shriek as I ran at the figure. Using every memory of watching Sunday night football games with my Dad, I planted my foot and brought both my arms up and under his. I let my legs do the rest of the work, pumping hard to push him backwards and up.

It would have worked if he hadn't been well over six feet and outweighed me. And if he hadn't been pure muscle. Instead of flying to the ground like a sacked quarterback, he shrugged me off like a lineman, barely stumbling and still managing to hold onto the painting.

“What the hell are you doing?” the man yelled at me. I wasn't sure how he did it, but he somehow got bigger scarier. It didn't help that it was dark and now the light was behind him, completely hiding his face.

“You can't steal that painting,” I announced defiantly, trying to regain my balance. Where are you, Elijah? I silently pleaded. I had been hoping my war-cry had gotten his attention. Now I just had to stall the robber until Elijah got here.

“Steal?” The thief sounded confused. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“You can explain whatever it is that you're doing to them,” I said smugly, as flashlight beams came jogging toward us. I could see Elijah and three other security guards coming at us at breakneck speeds.

Elijah reached us first. “Mr. Belrose, are you all right? We heard a strange noise.”

My stomach dropped straight to China. Mr. Belrose?

“I think so, but who the hell is this girl? And how did she get past you to fucking tackle me?”

He was royally pissed. And rightly so. I was so incredibly fired. My stomach dropped so fast, it went past China. It was falling to Pluto now.

Elijah shone the flashlight in my face, making me blink and blush. I couldn't seem to find any words now. I had been so brave two seconds ago, but now I was a stammering mess. I had just tried to take down a billionaire. I couldn't be more mortified if I tried.

“This is Ava Fairchild, Mr. Belrose,” Elijah answered. He waved the other guards off. “She's the appraiser you hired. She's harmless.”

I wished I still had enough courage to be angry about the “harmless” comment, but considering how easily I had been brushed off, Elijah was probably right. Mr. Belrose carefully set the painting down on the cement and looked at me. I didn't dare look up at him.

“You thought I was stealing a painting?” he finally asked, straightening his suit jacket. His voice was commanding and powerful.

I nodded, staring at my bare feet. Not only did I just try and tackle a billionaire, but I didn't even have shoes on. I was such a failure at life.

Mr. Belrose evaluated me for a moment and let out a sharp snort. “I suppose I should be grateful that an employee would feel so inclined to prevent theft,” he said finally, sounding irritated. “Look at me.”

I slowly rose my eyes to meet his. I had seen pictures of Sebastian Belrose on the internet, but in real life, he was gorgeous. He had light, golden-brown hair cut in a short, neat fashion that accented the strength of his jaw and broad shoulders. The thing that the pictures never conveyed was the strength and power that radiated off him in waves. It was like the difference between seeing a black and white picture of a painting and standing next to the real thing.

I could see the faint but distinctive scar across his cheek and eyebrow. I hadn't been able to find any information on where he had gotten it. It was just one of the many internet mysteries surrounding Sebastian Belrose. While the scar made him look dangerous, it was his eyes that gave him the aura of power and confidence.

They were a blue so light that they were almost gray, especially against the dark fabric of his designer suit. They reminded me of a misty sky just before the dawn. He looked at me, those eyes full of confidence, and I forgot to breathe.

“Miss Ava Fairchild,” he said, as if testing out how my name sounded on his lips. I rather liked the way he said it, but it was a little overwhelming. “Would you like to see what I was stealing?”

I looked over at the wrapped package and fidgeted slightly. This was not a good way to meet one's employer.

“I'm so sorry, sir,” I apologized. My voice cracked and I hated myself just a little bit more.

“I didn't ask for your apology,” he growled. “I asked if you wanted to see it.”

I opened my mouth to apologize again and quickly shut it. That wasn't going to do me any favors. I knew I should say no, that it wasn't any of my business, but I couldn't. Now I was curious.

“Yes,” I whispered, blushing a deep crimson.

Mr. Belrose's eyebrows raised. “Open it.”

I looked up at him again, making sure I understood and he nodded toward the package. Cautiously, I went over and began to untie the string holding the wrapping to whatever was inside. Now that I was closer, I could see it wasn't a painting. It wasn't even shaped like a painting. The brown cloth wrapping fell away to reveal what looked like part of a broken surfboard. It was just the front piece, but it was obviously not a painting.

“Is that a painting?” Mr. Belrose asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Do you still think I'm stealing it?” His voice was a little lighter this time, but not by much. I wanted to shrink into the sand and never show my face again.

“No, sir.”

“Then we're done here,” he said gruffly. He picked up the broken piece of surfboard and handed it to me. “Since you're so keen on me not having it, you can run it to the trash.”

I nearly dropped it my hands were shaking so badly. Mr. Belrose's eyes went to mine again, capturing me in their dusky power. My heart pounded so hard I was sure I was going to need CPR soon.

His eyes are beautiful, I thought. I pushed away the thought and looked away. That thought was not even remotely appropriate for what was going on right now. I did not need to be noticing that my billionaire boss, who I had just tried to take down, had nice eyes. Or how broad his shoulders were. Or how nicely he filled out his suit.

“Yes, sir,” I stuttered. But I couldn't help but look up at his eyes again. They drew me to him like a moth to a flame.

It was like he could see straight through me and knew exactly who I was and what I was thinking. It made me glad I wasn't thinking something inappropriate, like him in his boxers, though given the way he was filling out that suit, it would be a very nice sight. Crap! I thought, blushing harder. Now, I'm thinking of him in his boxers!

I looked down again, hoping that it was dark enough to hide my blush. When I peeked back up, his eyes were still on me, but with just the barest hint of a smile. As if he did know what scandalous thoughts were going through my mind. And that just made me blush harder. This was not my night.

“Good night Miss Fairchild,” Mr. Belrose said evenly, turning to go back into the house. I just stood there, staring after him, holding the broken surfboard.

“Next time, just let me handle any thieves,” Elijah remarked, walking past me to follow his boss. I nodded, waiting until they were both gone before going to my knees.

That had been a disaster.

I carefully picked up the broken surfboard nose and all the wrappings, finally noticing a trashcan just off to the side. It wasn't in the direct light from the house, so it was hard to see. That was why he had been looking around. If I had just waited thirty more seconds before turning into Sir Galahad, I wouldn't be in this mess.

I carefully threw everything away before turning to go back in the house. Except, I didn't want to go back inside yet. Mr. Belrose and Elijah were inside, and the very last thing in the entire world that I wanted just now was to run into either of them again tonight.

So instead, I followed the house around back to the beach.

***

The fine white sand on the beach gleamed in the silver moonlight like a magical substance that only stayed on this world for a short time. I walked toward the calm, dark water, watching the waves whisper against the pale shore.

I hurried across the big, wooden back porch and down toward the water. Silver and black waves whispered to the shore as I approached, and I relished the squish of the warm sand beneath my bare feet. I took a deep breath in of delicious salty air and let it out slowly. This was a good place. Even if I was an idiot. At least he hadn't fired me.

The wet sand was cooler and more firm as I dipped my feet into the water. The ocean sighed and washed around my ankles, welcoming me to go deeper. In the distance, back on the island and away from the water, a frog croaked out a love song, filling the night with chirps that merged with the soft hush of the waves.

I glanced back at the giant house to see a light turn on in one of the upper windows, yellow and warm in the dark. I didn't recognize the position of the room from our tour and assumed it must be “The Study.” I giggled. I was even thinking of it in quotations, like it was incredibly important and secret.

I wondered what the billionaire was doing this late at night, other than throwing out broken surfboards. I didn't actually know much about him. Sure, I of course had Googled him, but even the internet knew remarkably little about the reclusive billionaire. His two partners had several pages of information, but not him.

I knew he and his two partners, Leo and Gabriel, had started an online dating service together. Kindling Romance- let us start the fires of love! I had seen their advertisements everywhere. If I hadn't been with Chad, or burned so badly by Chad, I would have considered using them myself. They were apparently the best dating website around.

I stepped out further into the water, stopping when the water hit my knees. I wiggled my shorts up a few more inches to keep them from getting wet. It was so peaceful and calm out here. For the first time in months, I felt my shoulders drop from my ears and the frown ease from my face. Even after the debacle of trying to tackle a billionaire, I finally felt like myself again. Like I didn't have to keep up a happy face just because it was expected.

Squishing my toes in the bottom of the ocean, I let out the tension I hadn't even realized was there. I hadn't worried about the business at all today. I hadn't looked over my shoulder for my ex-boyfriend all day. I didn't worry about him showing up and ruining my good mood. Things were good, he was far away, and I could finally relax.

Dammit. I was thinking about Chad again. I needed to stop that. He would have called me stupid for trying to help a billionaire save money anyway.

I shook my head. This wasn't the place for thinking of people who didn't want me. This was a place to relax and recover. Here, I was free. The ocean was washing me clean so I could start over. The money and prestige from this job would get Fairchild Auctions and Appraisals back on track. It might even give me enough to book my ticket to Paris.

The thought of Paris made me smile. This could be just the thing I needed. The thing that would get me going again. Finding out about Chad had nearly ruined me, but I was strong. This job could pay for my Paris trip and give me the best fresh start a girl could ask for.

With happy thoughts buoying me, I turned around to head for bed. The giant mansion welcomed me back from the water as I reluctantly left the ocean behind me. The sand felt warm after the cool of the water.

The curtains over the lit window shifted and I saw a silhouette move away from the edge of the window. I shook my head. He couldn't possibly have been watching me walking out in the waves and moonlight. If he did, he probably thought I was an idiot for being out there in the dark.

Mr. Belrose's intense blue-gray eyes flashed through my mind. After our spectacular encounter, it was hard to imagine him helping people fall in love. He must handle the business end, I thought. His partners must handle the romance. He probably wouldn't know love if it hit him over the head with a baseball bat.

I giggled a little at the thought of a world-traveled billionaire watching me from his window like a love-struck teenager. As if.

I was a small-town girl with no stamps in my passport and the exact opposite of high society class. I appraised things for high society, I didn't join them. Not to mention, I had just tried to tackle him in my bare feet. I had to be the farthest thing from interesting to him.

I shrugged and climbed the wooden steps back up to the house, collecting my shoes at the door. A yawn the size of Texas cracked my jaws. For now, it was time for bed, not for musings on what a billionaire found or didn't find interesting. Tomorrow would be a new day.

At least I'll know who my boss is tomorrow, I thought.