No resources will be spared for her.
This kitten is out of lives.
She’s mine.
Chapter 3
Scarlet
Both Willow and Carmen are gone. The back door is locked, blocked, and alarmed. It’s just me at the front of the store, along with two customers who talk and laugh as they point at various pieces in one of the vertical display cases.
“May we see the baguette-sapphire set, please?” the gentleman asks.
“Of course,” I say with a polite smile.
I’m certain it’s not their first time here. I recognize her earrings. Carmen made them about a year ago. She was applying the finishing touches when I visited her workshop.
I walk over, open the case, and pull out the stand with the earrings, necklace, and bracelet. I lock the display and I’m about to head back to the main counter when the front doorbell chimes.
A fiery chill nettles up my spine, stopping at the nape of my neck, the grip tight, forcing my head to turn. But I resist. I push back because it can only be one person, and I will make him work for my attention. Though a slight, uncontrollable tremble in my shoulders betrays my composure.
“I’ll be right with you,” I call over my shoulder, glancing just long enough to catch a glimpse of his intense gaze burning into me. Enough to let him know I’m awareheis here, but he has none of my attention.
That should go down well.
“Please, follow me.” I address the customers as we walk to the counter.
Stepping around it, I place the jewelry pieces on the velvet-lined tray. All the while, I’m vividly aware of each and every one of his slow, determined steps as he moves through the store. Watching. Stalking.
“I really love the cut and the filigree of the setting,” the woman says as she picks up the earrings and holds them up to the light.
“Mrs. Brasa’s craftsmanship is as exquisite as always,” her partner states as he inspects the ring. “It’s all yours if you want it, my love.”
She turns to look up at him, warmth and adoration brimming in her eyes. “Are you sure? I already have so—”
“I’m sure.” He cuts her off, plucking the earrings out of her fingers and returning the jewelry to the tray. “Would you wrap these up for us, please?”
“Of course,” I say with a nod, and then I transfer the jewelry to the wrapping station.
I hearhimpacing through the store, and I take my time packing the large velvet box. Then I move to the cash register, bending the seconds to my calm nerves.
I may be teasing him, but I’m also putting it off for my own sake. Now that the reality is here, the thrill might taste sweet, but the dread is here too, floating in the air with its bitter notes.
“Thank you,” I say to the woman. “I hope you enjoy wearing them.”
“I will. Thank you very much,” the woman says with a blinding smile before they both turn and head for the exit.
This is it. The moment I’ve been expecting for months.
I flinch when the gentle sound of the closing door feels more like a deafening boom. It has a finality to it, punctuating the life I have led so far and what awaits after.Ifanything awaits after.
With reluctance, I turn my attention to the man himself. He’s no longer watching me but looking into one of the large display cases that covers the walls. If he’s looking at what I think he is, it’s a watch that costs more than half the other watches we have in stock. A man of expensive taste.
Not that I’m surprised, considering how he’s dressed. He’s broken out of the golden age, wearing Oxfords, fitted suit pants, and a tailored tweed waistcoat over a shirt that hugs him a bit too well. There’s already a shiny watch on his wrist, and surprisingly, a few rings on his fingers. His hair is pristinely swiped back at the top of his head, the sides and back shaved close, and there’s a shade of stubble on his chiseled jaw.
As he slides his hands into his pockets, the confidence pours out of him in waves. Forearms tense beneath rolled-up sleeves as he pulls his shoulders back like he’s preparing for a fight.
Meanwhile, a drop of sweat tickles its way between my shoulder blades, down beneath the waistband of my lavender A-line skirt. One deep breath later, I move toward him and stop, shoulder to shoulder, keeping a foot of distance between us. My gaze stays forward, though.
