“One hundred and seventy.”
The woman nods at her partner, an older man in a fancy suit.
“If you like it, Darling, then we’ll take it,” he says without giving it any thought.
My mouth goes dry. They’re talkingthousands. One hundred and seventy thousand.
“Jesus,” I breathe, causing Sullivan’s eyes to dart to me.
Fingers tightening around my apron, I clamp my mouth shut and keep pace with him as he walks us across the plush carpet toward a bank of elevators. The staff all greet us with bright, beautiful smiles as we pass an enormous cylindrical fish tank in the center of the space. It’s filled with giant shells, over which pieces of stunning jewelry have been draped. The whole place smells expensive and high end. I wouldn’t be surprised if a member of the British Royal family appeared from one of the private viewing rooms positioned at the rear of the store.
I tilt my head backward to admire an eye-catching poster taking up a floor-to-ceiling section of the wall behind one of the glass display areas.
“Auntie Sin,” Molly declares.
A suited staff member greets us as he holds a white-gloved hand out, inviting us into the waiting elevator.
“My sister models for the company,” Sullivan says, stepping inside.
I let go of Molly’s hand as we turn to face the doors, but she slips her fingers back inside mine with ease, doing the same with her father on the opposite side. The sight of the stunning blonde wearing a sparkling diamond choker and matching earrings disappears from view as the doors slide closed.
My head’s still spinning from the extravagance of thestore’s ground floor level as we ride up to the highest level and step out into an immaculate marble-floored reception area.
“Cara?” Sullivan says, marching us over to a blonde sitting behind a giant, sleek, navy reception desk. She has platinum-blonde hair that shines like ice where it’s cut perfectly to her jaw in a chic style.
“Good morning, Mr. Beaufort. Good Morning, Molly.” She smiles at them both before her eyes land on me and she subtly reads the Caffeine Couture logo on my shirt.
“Can you issue Miss Miller a visitor’s pass, please?”
“Of course.” She smiles at Sullivan again, her perfectly laminated brows lifting as she ignores me and speaks directly to him. “And what is the nature of her visit?”
“Personal guest,” Sullivan clips, pulling his chiming phone from his pocket and frowning at the screen.
“I see.” The receptionist’s lips purse as she taps something into her keyboard before reaching to a printer and taking something from it.
Sullivan’s typing away on his phone as she places an ID card fastened to a clip down on the counter. She slides it toward me with one scarlet nail like touching it any further would result in her needing to scrub her hands.
“Make sure you wear it at all times so the Beaufort team knows you’reonlya visitor,” she says with a fake smile.
I pick up the smooth laminated card embossed with the company’s gold logo. She never told me she was taking my picture. I don’t even know where the camera is. Somewhere on her ridiculously shiny desk by the looks of it, judging by the unflattering angle straight up my nose she’s managed to catch.
“All done Mr. Beaufort,” she trills, flashing him a megawatt smile as he looks up from his phone.
“Good,” he grunts, the frown lines deepening between his brows as he eyes where I’ve clipped the ID to the breast pocket of my shirt. I glance at it, wondering if I should have put itsomewhere else, but no one else here is wearing one for me to know if I’ve committed some swanky ID badge faux pas.
“Follow me.”
He walks purposefully, one hand in his daughter’s as he leads me past a network of glass walled offices, each filled with smart, stylish businesspeople who’d pass as runway models.
We stop outside an open door. It leads into a giant corner office with panoramic views across the city.
“Wow,” I say without thinking.
“I’ll be taking the call in my office,” he says. “You can make yourself comfortable in here with Molly.”
He opens the door to another glass walled room directly opposite his, and I walk inside. It appears to be a waiting room with sofas and bookshelves, and a coffee station set up on a large sideboard, alongside glittering jewelry brochures. But behind the corporate seating area is what can only be described as a kid’s dream. There’s a large crafting table covered in pens and multi-colored stacks of paper and sticker books. Giant beanbags cover the floor in one corner, next to a display stand of children’s books. And in the corner is a small slide, next to a teepee tent that has rainbow bunting strung around it.
Molly trundles in happily, bypassing all the stuffy office furniture and heading straight for the wonderland behind it.
