1
WINTER JANVIER
Holiday jazz musicfilled my workroom from the hidden speakers my assistant, Van, had tucked in the corners last month so he could infect our space with “holiday cheer.” I smiled, even though my eyes burned from focusing so hard. I hadn’t been looking forward to Christmas this year because I knew I had this delicate, horrendous, beautiful masterpiece to create for Madam Winters, the classy lady who owned the Courtesan Hotel.
Critically, I studied the choker necklace as I settled it into a black storage box I’d created to cradle each jewel and keep it from moving. I tapped the gems into place and made certain the links securing them were sturdy. I couldn’t get enough of the tapered fall of white gold, lightly glazed with emerald dust and tipped by diamonds, which made up the mistletoe motif. My breath caught. I’d measured Madam Winters’s chest and the delicate point of the final diamond should nestle lovingly into her cleavage.
She was gorgeous, a classic woman in every way, and a delight for the eyes—the perfect model to show off my best work.
“I really outdid myself. She will adore this piece. That son of hers she loves to brag about better have some kids so she can pass this down. It deserves to be loved for generations. Yes, and talking to yourself is a sign you’ve been working too long.”
I held back tears as I tucked the matching earrings into a box. They were so long they would brush her shoulders if she wasn’t careful, but I’d seen her walk and her posture was unmatched outside of a runway. I didn’t doubt she could pull them off.
Van came into the room from the front where he’d been assisting Alton Bouchard, a big spender who I normally schmoozed, but I’d had to get this finished and tucked away tonight. The clock was ticking.
And now the work was done.
Relief swamped me and had a few tears spilling onto my cheeks, and I wiped the dampness away with the back of my wrist. Van glided across the black stone floor as if it was a stage, his steps light and bouncy. I stood from the stool I’d been sitting on for the last fifteen hours and hissed out a long breath. My back was on fire. Carefully, I straightened as Van stopped at my side, bringing the heavy scent of amber and tobacco with him. I inhaled deeply and smiled at him.
“Good job. You should go out to celebrate,” he said. Van stepped closer and grinned down at me. I’d hired him because things usually got crazy over the holidays, but my shop had never been in such good shape, and I gave him a side hug of thanks. His clear blue eyes were shiny with his good mood. He gave me a real hug with both arms. Older than me byI wasn’t rude enough to ask how much, Van had some gray in his long brown hair that curved around his ears, but he had one of those timeless faces with a sharp chin and cheekbones for days—along with a great body. People loved talking to him about jewelry here at Beaulieu, especially when he was dressed in a body-hugging suit like the black one he wore right now.
“I’m exhausted,” I murmured, then covered the yawn that almost cracked my jaw.
Van hummed and his cheerful disposition was infectious. A happy little squiggle bounced around in my belly. “You need to celebrate your small wins, Winter. Besides, won’t this allow you to take a vacation in January?” He gazed with wide eyes at the Mistletoe Collection. Or should I name it the Mistletoe Art Piece? Nah, neither of those names had enough balls. It had to be better.
I chuckled and tilted my head back, crossing my arms. “I’m good.”
“You are,” Van said, smirking.
My breath caught. I would never sleep with someone who worked for me—ever—but the way he meandered his gaze down my body let me know he thought there might be a chance. I shook my head at him, and his smile never wavered.
“You deserve dinner.” He cradled me closer, wrapping his arms around my body, before he released me from the hug. “Good wine. Maybe someone to rub your shoulders, since you’ve been slaving away over this piece for three weeks. You’re incredible and your work even more so.”
I fluttered my eyelashes at him. “You sure know how to make a man feel appreciated.”
“I do, in more ways than one,” he murmured. “Oh, I love this song,” he said as a fast-beat version of Winter Wonderland started to play on the sound system. I shook my head and laughed.
“No one loves this song.”
He carefully took my hand, giving me plenty of time to tell him no, then coaxed me around until I was standing in front of him. He held his other hand out. “I do.”
“You don’t know how to dance,” I said softly, shaking my head.
“Only one way to find out.” He raised his eyebrows, and my stomach quivered pleasantly. I wouldn’t sleep with Van, but this was nice. A little teasing never killed anybody. I put my hand in his and rested the other one on his strong shoulder.
“Are you a natural-born flirt or do you have to work at this?” I wrinkled my nose in his direction.
Van chuckled, and we moved away from my worktable. He drew me closer with a hand on my waist that didn’t slip too low or grip too hard. Oh, he got points for being sweet. I rolled my eyes as he began to step in time in an obviously practiced way, and this smooth talker did know how to dance,of course.
“The last time I waltzed was ballroom dancing at the Excellence in Knowledge Academy. It’s an all-boys school, so you can imagine how seriously everyone took the class.” He spun us around, and I laughed and held on to him, letting his better sense of timing guide us both.
“Well, you remember very well,” he said as I stomped his toe by accident.
“Liar.” I winked, unable to stave off temptation.
Van laughed, and we were interrupted by a quiet “Hello? Mr. Janvier?” from out on the sales floor. I glanced at the CCTV we kept high on the wall over my worktable and frowned. The screen was full of white static.
“Van, can you see what happened to the security cameras while I go out and talk to whoever this is?” I nodded at the doorway.
