Ch31 - Perfect apprentice

The car rolled into the garage. Julian stepped out, straightening his jacket. “Next time anything involving Violet happens, I want every detail.”

“Got it.” Craig stayed where he was, watching Julian disappear into the elevator before letting out a quiet breath. He’d never expected Violet to keep her mouth shut about what had gone down at that hotel—and he hadn’t seen the boss this pissed in years.

Upstairs, the living room lights were still on. That was Julian’s habit—he hated coming home to a pitch-black place.

Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper, came over to take his coat. “Ms. Violet’s waiting in the side lounge.”

Julian loosened his tie as he walked in that direction. The moment he stepped in, he froze.

Violet was there, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, flipping through a magazine. She turned her head and smiled. “You’re back.”

She started to get up, but he said flatly, “Stay.”

He crossed the room, and as he passed behind her, his gaze snagged on the back of her neck. The high collar didn’t hide much. His stare was hot enough to burn straight through the fabric.

He dragged his eyes away and dropped into the chair across from her, one leg casually crossing over the other.

“You’re pretty forgiving,” he said slowly. “Most people wouldn’t stay quiet after what your friend pulled.”

Violet stilled. She knew he was talking about Tiffany.

Forgiving? Not exactly. She wasn’t the type to explode—but she wasn’t a saint either. When people came at her, she didn’t lash out blindly; she watched, calculated, waited for the right moment.

Right now, she just knew she couldn’t afford to act out. This wasn’t only about her anymore. Keeping the peace mattered more than her pride.

“It all happened too suddenly,” she said softly. “But luckily Craig arrived quickly and handled it before things got worse.” She lowered her gaze, folding the magazine neatly on the table.

Julian watched her from the corner of his eye—the calm face, the steady hands. Her long fingers were bare, no rings, no jewelry. “Heard you went to that pocket-watch exhibition today. Find anything interesting?”

She rubbed the side of her neck, a bit tense. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Julian frowned slightly, instinctively wary.

She slid a business card across the coffee table. “This man—Edward Hale. He’s an independent British watchmaker and collector. He offered to take me on as an apprentice.”

Julian picked up the card, scanning it. The name rang a bell. If it was the same Edward Hale he was thinking of, that was impressive. For someone of that reputation to make such an offer—Violet must’ve really stood out.

“He’s opening a studio here,” Violet continued carefully. “He only needs me there for half-days. Would that be alright with you? Or… if that’s too much time, I can ask if he’ll shorten the hours.”

She held her breath, sneaking a look at him.

“Edward Hale, huh? Not a bad choice…” Julian murmured, flipping the card over. He pulled out his phone, snapped a photo, tapped the screen a few times, and hit send.

Violet blinked, not understanding what he was doing.

He set the card back down. “I’ve asked Craig to run a full background check. Once I know everything’s clean, you can go ahead and start.”

The tension in her shoulders eased, her fingers unclenching. “Thank you,” she said quietly, genuine relief in her voice.

He gave a faint nod. “It’s a rare opportunity. And unlike your last job, it doesn’t involve dealing with random guests all day. Besides, I don’t need you sitting at home like you’re under house arrest.”

A small, grateful smile curved her lips. “Thank you, really.”

Julian’s gaze lingered on her face—soft pink cheeks, lips just a shade too red—and for a moment, something tightened in his chest. He forced his eyes away.

——

Two days later, Violet got Julian’s official okay. She texted Edward to say she could start at his workshop anytime.

When Edward saw her message, he nearly dropped the pair of tweezers in his hand. He jumped up from his chair and actually pumped his fist before realizing he still had his head loupe on—he pushed it up, laughing under his breath.

The excitement refused to settle. He went straight to the window, grabbed his phone, and dialed an overseas number.

It rang for a long time before a deep, older man’s voice answered in French. “What the hell, boy—calling me at this hour? You’d better have a good reason.”

Edward chuckled. “Actually, wait — daylight saving just ended. The time difference’s an hour shorter now. It’s only nine in Switzerland — still early.”

“Hmph. Early or not, the sun’s long gone here,” grumbled Mr. Reinhardt.

“I’ve got good news for you—something you’ll definitely want to hear!” Edward’s voice was bubbling with excitement.

“You’ve been in America for five minutes and already sound like an idiot,” Reinhardt said dryly. “What happened to that calm, steady apprentice I raised? Seems like someone still needs a few more years of discipline.”

Normally, that lecture tone made Edward’s scalp prickle, but not today. He could barely contain himself. “Forget that—listen! I found the perfect apprentice!”

There was a brief pause on the line. Reinhardt’s voice came back, flat but curious. “Oh? Whose child is it? You really think you’ve found someone worth teaching?”

“She’s from the Ashford family—their daughter.”

“Their daughter?” Reinhardt snorted. “Idiot. The Ashfords only have sons. Don’t tell me you’re being scammed.”

Edward froze, like a bucket of cold water had just been dumped over his head. “No way…”

“So let me get this straight—you borrowed one of my watches for an exhibition halfway across the world, deliberately left it unrepaired so you could ‘test’ whoever examined it… and now you’re telling me you picked the wrong person?” Reinhardt asked, deadpan.

Edward cleared his throat, trying to recover. “Maybe I misunderstood. She never actually said she was their daughter—I just assumed. You know how it is, I’m still getting used to all these old family names over here.” 

He paused, then added more confidently, “Whatever she is, she’s special. I’m taking her on, no matter what. I swear, if you met her yourself, you’d agree with me.”

Reinhardt gave a low chuckle. “Big words. Your taste has improved, I’ll admit that—but don’t assume mine has.”

The old man was famous for being impossible to please. He’d chewed through more apprentices than anyone could count.

Edward tilted his chin proudly. “Just wait and see. You’re coming to New York next month for the museum exhibit, right? Perfect timing—you’ll meet her then.”

“You know I hate public appearances,” Reinhardt grumbled. “Especially speeches. I might just head to England instead.”

“London? You’re still doing that? After all these years?” Edward blinked. “You never skip that trip, do you?”

“You wouldn’t understand, boy. You’re not married, you’ve got no ties,” Reinhardt said, his voice rasping like old wood. Edward could practically feel the man reaching through the phone to whack him on the forehead.

He shuddered automatically. Reinhardt had been more than a mentor—he’d basically raised him. Edward had started apprenticing at sixteen and didn’t finish until twenty-eight. 

Which is two years ago, he’d finally gone independent—Reinhardt’s youngest and last apprentice. When he graduated, luxury brands lined up with offers, but he’d chosen to open his own workshop instead.

“Then why not send that grandson of yours, Matteo, to London for you?” Edward teased.

Reinhardt snorted. “That useless brat? He’s a walking disaster. Spoiled rotten, just like one of those Ashford heirs. My legacy’s doomed, I tell you.”

Edward smiled faintly, the earlier rush fading into his usual calm. “If that’s true, then everything you’ve taught us was for nothing, huh, sir?”

“Save your British humor for someone who laughs at it,” Reinhardt muttered—but there was a hint of warmth in his tone now. “If I do decide to come, I’ll let you know. Now hang up, I’m going to bed.”

“Bonne nuit, old man,” Edward said, still smiling as he ended the call.

He shook his head, amused. “That grumpy fossil…”

Turning back to the room, he took a slow look around his newly rented studio. 

After a moment’s thought, he walked to the far window and stretched his arm as if measuring the space. “Hmm… yeah,” he murmured to himself. “A big workbench right here—for her—that’d be perfect.”