Chapter 7
“What’s wrong with you?”Henry’s voice cut cleanly through Natalie’s scattered thoughts.
Startled, she jerked her gaze upward to find her boss standing in front of her desk, arms crossed, his impeccably groomed brows drawn together in something that almost looked like concern.
“Nothing.I’m fine,” she answered quickly, pasting on a smile that felt thin and brittle.She reached behind her for a stack of fabric samples, but the pile—precariously balanced on the edge of her desk—tipped at the lightest touch.Swatches fanned out across the floor in a cascade of color.
“You’re not fine,” Henry said flatly, stooping to retrieve them.He avoided touching the fabric directly, lifting the stack by the metal binding ring and giving it a precise shake before setting it neatly back on her desk.“You were late to the staff meeting this morning, you look like death warmed over, and now you’re dropping things.Spill.What’s going on?”
Natalie exhaled slowly, sinking back into her chair.“Someone broke into my house yesterday.”
Henry’s neutral mask slipped just enough for his gray eyes to narrow.“Broke in?Did they hurt you?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, though the memory still prickled at her.“I wasn’t home.But they left a bouquet of flowers, rearranged a few things, and…” She hesitated, feeling faintly ridiculous even saying it aloud.“That’s it.No theft.Just… weird.”
Henry tilted his head, studying her.“Flowers?That’s… unsettling.”His tone was even, but a flicker of unease passed through his expression.“Did the police find any clues?”
Natalie grimaced.“They don’t think it’s serious.The officer said there’s no sign of forced entry, so he thinks I’m imagining it.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Henry huffed, tugging his ascot into place with sharp precision.Then, after a pause that seemed heavier than it should have been, “Did you change your locks after Mark moved out?Or does he still have a key?”
The mention of her ex-fiancé sent a cold spike through her chest.She sat up straighter, her pulse ticking faster.“I changed them.A long time ago.”
“Hmm.”His gaze flicked toward her tote bag—quick, deliberate—before his expression smoothed over again.“You should stay at a hotel tonight.Until you figure out who’s behind this.”
“I’ll think about it,” she lied, forcing a steady tone.
Henry straightened to his full height, tugging his shirt hem into perfect alignment.“Good.Now—you have your client meeting at the Heritage Square townhouse.That’s huge, Natalie.Go ‘wow’ them.”His smile brightened, but his eyes lingered on her face for a moment too long before he finally turned and walked away.
Natalie watched him go, the tiny hairs at the back of her neck prickling.First of all, Henry never came to her office.Ever.Second, he never asked about her personal life.If it didn’t involve plaid or chintz, Henry didn’t care.So why now?
She shook off the unease, scooped up her things, and made it halfway down the hall before realizing she’d left her purse.Groaning, she spun on her heel.
“Natalie!”Jenny Imago’s voice rang out, chipper enough to grate on her nerves.The designer all but jogged toward her.“I heard you’re meeting with the owner of the Heritage Square home!That’s amazing!”Jenny clasped her hands, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet.“Want some company?I’d love to see how you land all these huge contracts.”
Natalie gave a polite smile that didn’t touch her eyes.“Thanks, Jenny, but I’ve got it handled.”
Jenny’s grin faltered for half a second before her bright eyes sharpened.“You’ve had a lot of high-profile clients lately.Four this week alone!That’s impressive… though exhausting, I’m sure.”She leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially.“I’d be happy to help.”
Natalie eyed her warily.Who was she kidding?The last time they’d spoken, Jenny had suggested—loudly, in the breakroom—that Natalie was sleeping with her clients to win contracts.The woman was poison.“Really, I’m fine,” Natalie said, letting steel edge her tone.
Jenny lingered, her fingers drumming against the strap of her oversized tote.“Well… if you change your mind.”Her gaze flicked toward Natalie’s office door before she finally turned away.
Natalie’s unease sharpened.She strode back into her office, grabbed her purse, and stepped out—only to find Tom Hicks, Henry’s assistant, in the hall with a steaming cup of coffee.
“Hey, Nat,” he greeted with his usual easy grin, holding out the cup.“Henry thought you might need this before heading out.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking the coffee with deliberate care.It was filled to the brim—so full she had to angle her wrist just right to keep it from sloshing over the rim.A drop still wobbled dangerously close to spilling.Why had he poured it so full?
“Big deal, Heritage Square,” Tom said casually, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe.His posture was relaxed, but his eyes tracked her closely.“I hear the owner is some mysterious billionaire.Should be interesting to see what you come up with.”
Natalie forced a polite nod and edged past him, the scalding heat of the cup making her grip tense.“It will be,” she said evenly, keeping her pace steady even though her instincts told her to put more distance between them.
As she walked down the hall, she felt it—the weight of eyes on her back.Glancing over her shoulder, she caught Tom still watching her, his expression unreadable, his head tilted just slightly as if sizing her up.
The sensation didn’t fade.Other designers and interns peeked from their doorways as she passed, their gazes lingering a beat too long, curiosity sparking in their eyes.Natalie mustered a faint smile, giving a quick nod here and there, but the fine hairs at her nape prickled.Heritage Square was clearly a big deal—but why did it feel like everyone was watchingherinstead of the project?
She exhaled hard when the elevator doors finally slid shut, the quiet thump cutting off the murmurs and side glances.
