Chapter 9

Noelle

The GPS took me down roads that got me progressively less convinced of it ever leading to an office space.

First it was the highway, easy. Then it narrowed into a two-lane road with actual trees crowding above it, the further I drove the more I left behind possible locations for an office, my GPS was leading me to one of the porshest residential areas.

The tall trees blocked out the sun in patches so the whole drive strobed between light-dark-light-dark until you feel a a little dizzy. Then the houses started spacing out, further and further apart, until there weren't houses at all, no businesses at all, just long stretches of stone wall half-swallowed by ivy, the stonewall game way to a much more modern outlook.

"Your destination is on the left," my GPS announced, entirely too casual for what I was looking at.

I slowed the car to a stop in front of a set of iron gates taller than my apartment building.

No buzzer intercom with a company directory, no little sign that read Miller Holdings or Suite Anything. Just wrought iron, black and severe, twisted into a pattern that probably had a name, beyond it, was a driveway that curved out of sight into more trees, swallowing whatever waited at the end of it.

I sat there with my hands on the wheel, my engine idling in a way that was unbefitting of the castle I was staring at.

I did the thing I do best under pressure, which is negotiate with myself.

Okay.

Maybe it's a private office. Rich people do that, right? Converted mansion, home office, tax write-off, whatever the wealthy do to avoid paying their fair share of the capitalism that served them while still having somewhere to sign documents. That's a thing. I'd read about that. Somewhere. Probably.

I reached for my phone to double check I hadn't fat-fingered the address, and that's when the gates moved.

I swear I didn't do anything. Didn't touch anything. I couldn't even breathe

Did I honk by mistake?

No buzzer pressed, no code entered, nothing.

They just began to swing inward on their own, slow and silent, like the house itself had been watching me sit there arguing with myself and had finally lost patience. I felt like an over zealous Disney princess who'd wandered into the territory of a beast.

My stomach dropped somewhere.

Through the widening gap I could see it now, clearer with no trees in the way.

The snakey driveway birthed a fine ass pristine mansion. Definitely Not an office.

And hell, it didn't even look converted. It was a rich person's idea of subtlety. And rich people for what it's worth were not subtle, the ones that thought they were subtle just did not wear huge logos but a beige shirt could cost my arm and let's not talk about the subtleness of one prada coat.

I wouldn't call that subtle. Could be in color but not in the check.

My mind drifted to his scent, it smelt like the cleanest beach, it was fresh, almost with a hint of mint. That was subtle.

This was a house. In fact, calling it a house is almost insulting. It was a residence. An estate.

An actual, enormous, unapologetic house in what looked like an estate, mama, my sister and all of Mama's family could live here and there would still be room. It was the kind you only see in the background of a magazine spread about people who inherited things. Stone, glass and a fountain out front that was currently doing absolutely nothing except existing, expensively, in the middle of a driveway wide enough to park a small parade.

This was never a business card.

My gps for sure had it all wrong. I refreshed my maps and turned on my location. I wiped my hand on my dress before typing the location in again, maybe my hands were slippery, they'd been so sweaty all day.

But that wasn't the case, I'd been careful with typing and the map pin still landed in my location.

I was exactly where this map said it was.

Surely they've been cases where a map is completely wrong but the queasy feeling in my stomach said otherwise.

His card had me wound up in front of a place I had no business being in.

I took a deep breath before sending Mel my love location. She was probably face deep in her shift but she'd see it when she was off or on her lunch break. She'd rescue me.

I drove cautiously. The gates had so graciously opened up to me.

Men in dark suits with ear pieces stringed to their ears stayed in place, some standing still, as still as those long hat men in front of England's palace, while some others paced. The thing that made me nervous was that they were all watching me, observing, waiting for me to get too close for comfort. I was the security breach.

I idled my engine again, still a good distance from the main building when my phone buzzed. I jerked at the sound of it, recuperated then answered the call.

“The hell are you doing at Miller's estate?” Mel's voice blasted, nearly scraping my ears clean.

I held the phone away from my ears with a wince.

“Don't tell me you're there for Emeric?”

“I'm not, Mel.”

“Right. You balled out your eyes about how embarrassing it was for you, so why does your location say otherwise.”

I looked around. “I came to return the ring. I can't keep it.”

A slurp sound followed. She was having an early lunch.

“That's right, the ring. Did you not pawn it off?”

I shrugged. “It isn't mine Melody, I can't just pawn it off. Besides, the pawn guy refused to take it and treated me like some criminal.”

“That bad?”

I sighed. “Yup, I feel like there could be a tracker on this thing.” I glanced at the unworthy box I'd gotten to house the diamond. “His card led me to this place and I thought I should share my location in case someone tries to murder me.”

Another slurp. “Good call. Why don't you just go in and let me know how that goes. He's probably a staff. You could just drop it at the door and turn back.”

The fog cleared out from my eyes. I gasped. “You're right, I could do that. I could get roped in if I got inside asking to see a staff member. How on earth would I explain it?”

“Exactly. Drop it off and run.” Melody said, firmly.