Assessing blue eyes flick over, and I swallow as they drop over my uniform and two scowl lines deepen between his brows. I yank the tie on my apron again, pulling the cocoa-marked fabric off and holding it by my side.
“Tate, isn’t it?” The deep gravel of his voice saying my name sends a shiver up my spine. He sounded scary on thephone, and I bet he’s terrifying in person when you’re on the receiving end of his wrath.
“That’s right.” I fumble with my apron, not knowing what to do with it as we approach the giant glass doors of Beaufort Diamonds.
He stops on the thick blue and gold embossed sidewalk carpet and studies me like he’s regretting his decision to invite me to… whatever this is.
I stuff the soiled apron underneath my armpit so I don’t have to let go of his daughter’s hand and thrust my other hand toward him.
“Tate Miller.”
His eyes drop to my outstretched hand for a second before he lets his daughter’s hand go and reaches out to curl his fingers around mine. His shake is firm and confident, like he always has to be the one in the lead. The one in control.
His hand returns to his daughter’s within seconds, and maybe I imagine the way he stiffens for those brief moments their contact is broken.
“Sullivan Beaufort. And this is Molly,” he clips.
His eyes soften as he looks down at the little girl with dark curls, but they regain their business-like detachment the moment they lift back to mine.
“Hello,” Molly pipes up.
I can’t help but break her father’s eye contact and grin as she beams. “Hello,” I reply, “it’s nice to be formally introduced, Miss Lion.” I hold my hand out to her, and she pulls hers free of mine so we can shake.
“So… coloring?” I ask lamely.
“I have an important call to make, for which my daughter cannot be present. You’ll stay within my sight. And of course, I will compensate you for your time,” he states, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he eyes the apron I’ve stuffed under my arm like he’s severely regretting his choice.
“So, you’re hiring me for the next thirty minutes?” I say, sounding much braver than I am. But I pull my shoulders back and lift my chin, faking confidence. He might be a billionaire who owns the ridiculously extravagant building we’re about to walk inside, but I refuse to be intimidated by him, when, by the sounds of it, I’m about to help him out without being given a choice.
I pull the apron free and hold it more neatly by my side, noting the flare of his nostrils as they pass over my uniform.
“It will only take twenty,” he grinds out before clearing his throat. “Is that… agreeable to you?” The words are forced like he’s used to people doing what he says without question.
I don’t know whether he’s looking at me. I’m busy smiling at his adorable daughter who doesn’t seem to have inherited any of her father’s arctic abruptness.
“Color?” she asks hopefully.
“Color. I hope you have pencils? I can go back inside to get some?—”
“Molly has plenty,” he clips, as a suited doorman opens the giant gold-handled glass door for us with a flourish.
“Mr. Beaufort. Miss Beaufort. Ma’am.”
“Good Morning, Joe,” Sullivan replies, sweeping us inside.
My jaw hits the floor as we walk into the lavish interior that is Beaufort Diamonds flagship store. Ashley has some balls coming here and trying their pieces on. I feel like I should turn around and walk straight back out. I don’t belong here. This place is fancy, opulent… and dripping with extravagant luxury.
“This is one of our new pieces,” a sales assistant tells a couple as she presents a giant glittering ring to them on a velvet pad.
“How many carats?” the woman asks.
“Five.”
“Clarity?” she purrs.
“Internally flawless. It’s from one of the Beaufort mines,” the sales assistant tells her proudly.
“How much is it?” the woman asks.
