by Krista Lakes
The letter inside was on heavy, high-end paper. It reminded me more of a wedding invitation than actual letterhead, but it was obviously business related. I leaned up against the wall and began to read.
Dear Miss Ava Fairchild,
I am contacting you today to request your professional appraisal services for a piece of art. I have recently acquired two impressionist paintings and wish to sell them. However, due to their historical nature, I am in need of further reference as to the appropriate buyer.
I grinned. Maybe this was something that could take my mind off of Bastian.
The pieces in question are one by Claude Monet, as well as a smaller piece by Berthe Morisot, both with photos attached. There are several museums and several other interested buyers, but due to a lack of time and knowledge I am unable to determine the best location for this artwork. As such, I am requesting your services.
It will take 6-8 weeks to meet with all the museums and possible buyers. All expenses, including airfare, food, and lodging in the various museum locals, is included, as well as payment for taking you away from your business.
Included is the list of museums and their locations. I understand that this is a large undertaking, one that will force you to learn about the museums wishing to purchase said piece as well as any collections it may join.
Please contact Charlotte Page with any questions. She will follow up with you at a later date to arrange your transportation to New York to view the pieces as well as your international itinerary.
Sincerely,
Sebastian Belrose
My hands shook. I could barely hold the paper as I turned to the next page. A picture of Berthe Morisot's A Corner of the Rose Garden painting fluttered to floor followed by one of Monet's Water Lilies.
I went to my knees to retrieve it, staring at one of the most famous pictures in art history as well as the one Bastian had claimed as his favorite before looking at the list of potential buyers. The Louvre, Musée d'Orsay, the Marmottan-Monet Museum, and a whole page of others that I couldn't read because my eyes started to blur. I couldn't breathe. This was everything I had always dreamed of. This was the trip my mother and I had spent years hours upon hours dreaming of before she died, with more than we could have ever hoped to have seen.
And Bastian had just given it all to me with a billionaire's all-access pass. He had actually been paying attention to me that night I had told him about Paris. He had remembered.
“Ava?” Dad called, his chair creaking as he stood and then hurried over to where I sat on the floor. “Ava, are you all right?”
I handed him the letter, my mouth opening and closing like a fish and making about as much noise. Dad skimmed the letter, his eyes going bigger with every paragraph.
“Holy mother...” he finally whispered, handing the letter back to me. He grinned and started to laugh. I just sat, still in shock. “It's everything you and your mom used to talk about. You have to do it, Ava.”
I let out a sob and quickly covered my mouth. “Why would Bastian do something so wonderful for me? Why? I don't deserve someone like him.”
“Bullshit,” Dad contested, wrapping me up in his arms and hugging me tight. “You deserve someone who makes you happy.”
“But...” I couldn't wrap my head around it. Why would Bastian do this? I had hurt him. I had pushed him away because he deserved someone better than me, yet here he was, giving me the best gift I had ever received. He still cared about me.
“Aw, honey, that man obviously cares a great deal about you,” Dad cooed, as if reading my mind. “This would have taken some time to set up. There's a lot of names on this list that aren't easy to get private access too. He pulled some serious strings.”
“But why?”
Dad hugged me tighter. “If I had to guess, between this, the not-so-secret looks the two of you were passing back and forth before I left, and that the two of you spent a week alone in his mansion, I think he loves you.”
I had been hoping Dad hadn't caught on that much, but I was a grown woman. I hiccuped and wiped my nose. “But Dad, he's a billionaire. What do I have that a billionaire would want?”
He hugged me tighter. “Everything.
“What?” I sniffled.
“Everything.” Dad smiled at me, his green eyes full of love. “You are smart and beautiful. Even as a billionaire, he's still just a man. A man who obviously wants you to be happy.”
I looked at the letter. Bastian had gone above and beyond, giving me my heart's desire. And without asking for anything in return. Even far away, he was still making my world better.
“But...” My heart was thrilling and weeping at the same time. Bastian cared for me, but it wasn't asking me to be with him. He was still giving me what I had asked for, but giving me my dreams at the same time. It was a pure act of giving and expecting nothing in return. The only reason to send this letter was to make me happy. Even if I wasn't with him.
“Do you love him?” Dad asked, putting his hands on my shoulders and studying my face.
“I...” I closed my eyes and thought for a moment. The past few days had passed in a gray haze of unhappiness. Just thinking about him made color come back to my world. I nodded.
“I thought so,” Dad said quietly. He smiled. “I thought he might be the reason.”
“The reason?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
“The reason you've been a different person the past few days. You sounded so happy out on the island, happier than I've ever heard you, but you've just been fading since you came home.” He hugged me close. “A father can tell.”
“What do I do?” I whimpered. I wiped my eyes with my shirt sleeve and looked at Dad. “He doesn't exactly live just down the street. I can't just waltz on to the island and up to his house to tell him how I feel.”
“Why not?” Dad asked. “Go to the island and tell him you love him.”
“The auction is by invite only, and I made sure to get myself uninvited. I basically told him I never wanted to see him again.” I hung my head in shame. Without a ticket, I would be lucky to get past the security guards at the airport, let alone the ones at the mansion. I had a feeling Bastian would have far more security than just Elijah working for an event as big as this one.
“We'll come up with something,” Dad promised. “I want to see you happy. If I have to sell my car to buy you an invite, then I'll walk to the grocery store.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” I whispered. He hugged me closer.
“Carl,” Jackie said, biting her lip and looking at the two of us. “You don't have to buy your way onto the island.”
“What do you mean?” Dad asked, his brows coming together.
“The tickets.” Jackie motioned to the table and grinned. Dad's mouth opened as he realized what she was talking about and then split into a ear-to-ear grin. He jumped up from the floor and kissed her, full on the lips.
“You are a wonderful woman!” he exclaimed, kissing her again. Jackie blushed a deep shade of crimson, but she grinned.
Dad went to the kitchen table and dug through the pile of mail, murmuring to himself until he found what he was looking for. He handed it to me triumphantly before going to stand next to Jackie.
“Jenny always gives me a ticket to the events I've appraised,” he explained as I opened the small white envelope with my aunt's neat handwriting and pulled out the golden invitation. He squeezed Jackie's hand and grinned. “That's how you get into the auction.”
“But what about you?” I asked, looking up. “I just got here....”
“I'll be fine. Besides, I have a new ticker.” He tapped twice on his chest and then winced at the soreness from the incision. “And I have this lovely lady to look out for me. You go.”
I opened my mouth, feeling like I should protest, even if it was halfhearted.
“I've got him, Ava,” Jackie promised. “I'll give you hourly updates if you want and I promise to make him eat his vegetables.”
“Just daily updates
and all the veggies you can get.” I chuckled. If she got him to eat something green that was chile, then she was a superstar. Dad hated vegetables. “You're sure?”
“Go,” Dad said, a grin filling his face. He put his arm around Jackie. “Go and be happy. You have to find the people that make you happy and keep them in your life.”
I stood on shaky legs, hugging them both.
Bastian wasn't Chad. He wasn't out to use me. He loved me. Honest to goodness, love without expecting anything in return, loved me.
You have to find the people that make you happy and keep them in your life.
Dad was right. He was proving it with Jackie. Just because one person left, doesn't mean the next person is going to do the same.
I was an idiot for not seeing it sooner and letting my history with a selfish man cloud my judgment concerning a good man. I was a fool to push him away.
I wasn't going to be a fool for long.
Chapter 25
Flying coach sucked.
Flying coach with three layovers sucked even more.
I arrived on the island bleary-eyed and exhausted the next morning after scrambling to get a last minute ticket. I had paid through the nose, but as I took a deep breath of tropical air, I knew it was worth it. I had to see Bastian. I had to tell him how I felt or I would never be able to forgive myself.
I stopped in the tiny airport's bathroom and did my best to straighten my dress and fix the disaster that was my makeup. Sleeping with a stranger's head on my shoulder while my legs cramped under me was not a beauty regime I could get behind. I sighed at the mirror and put on a brave smile. I was here to see Bastian, not to look pretty. It shouldn't matter how I looked. He would still be excited to see me, not my makeup.
I hoped.
I took a deep breath and went to find a cab. The ride back to the mansion was longer than I remembered it.
What if he doesn't want to see me? What if he's found someone else? What if he hates me? The what-if's buzzed around my head like vultures as palm trees and smaller beach houses whizzed by. I shook my head. What if he's pulled a Mr. Rochester and is now terribly blind and scarred from a fire? I was going to make myself crazy with questions that I couldn't answer until I saw Bastian.
The cab had to stop about a quarter mile from the house due to traffic. I paid the man and pulled my carry-on bag behind me. The entry to the house was packed with cars that cost more than a standard American house.
I paused in the driveway, suddenly unsure of what I was supposed to do next. I hadn't planned this far, and I certainly hadn't planned for there to be this many people. And TV reporters, I thought as I watched a TV crew enter the house.
My original plan of walking up to the front door and knocking suddenly seemed incredibly naive. I looked down at my wrinkled blouse and realized my khaki pants had a nice ketchup stain on them. Bastian was a billionaire. He wasn't going to answer the door. With this many people, it was going to be some security personnel that wouldn't know me from Kate Winslet. I was doomed.
“YOU CAME BACK!”
I turned to see a happy blur of Charlotte speeding toward me, her brown hair flying as she leaped from the front porch and wrapped me up in a giant hug. I didn't know how she managed it in heels, but she did.
“I'm glad to see you, too,” I replied with a laugh, hugging her back. She released me and grinned. Charlotte looked great. She had on a sheer, white silk blouse and a black skirt that accented her waist and made her look feminine and in charge at the same time. Something about her face looked happier, too. I wondered if something had changed between her and Leo. I would have to ask later. Now wasn't the time.
“Bastian's going to flip,” Charlotte told me. “He's been absolutely no fun since you left. One of the auctioneers told him that you were never coming back and he's been awful since. I knew you'd come back, though.”
I dry-washed my hands. I had a feeling I knew which auctioneer had said that. My hands were cold and clammy despite the tropical heat. “Where is Bastian? I need to talk to him.”
“I'm sure you do,” Charlotte replied with a wink, but then she shrugged. “But he's not here.”
“Oh.” My heart sank right through my toes and down into the sand. He was gone. I had missed my chance. “Of course. I should have checked before I came...”
“But he'll be back for the gala tonight,” Charlotte added. “He's out doing business stuff.”
“Oh, he'll be back...” I laughed nervously, feeling relieved for a moment. He wasn't off the island and I hadn't just been through travel hell for nothing.
“You are coming to the gala tonight, right?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “It's how we're showcasing everything for the auction.”
“Gala?” I pulled out my ticket. It now had a giant fold from being in my pocket all day, and I was glad it was on expensive paper or I would have worn it down to shreds by now. “I totally missed there was a gala on there.”
“Do you have anything to wear?” Charlotte asked, eying my very small carry-on suitcase. I shifted my weight nervously. I hadn’t brought anything even remotely acceptable to wear to a gala. I had a nice pant suit for the auction, but I had a feeling that the gala was more of an evening gown kind of event.
“Um...” I bit my lip. Maybe I could find something in town. I looked around at the Lamborghinis, Ferraris, and a couple of Rolls-Royces. Even if I managed to somehow find a dress shop, there's no way in hell I would be able to afford anything that would let me even remotely fit in. I was going to stick out like a sore thumb if I tried. This was why I had tried to leave. I wasn't any good at these rich events. I didn't want to embarrass Bastian by showing up as a ragamuffin.
“Oh, good! You didn't bring anything. That makes this so much easier,” Charlotte answered for me, a knowing grin crossing her face. She looked like a cat in the cream. “It's always better to work with a blank canvas anyway.”
“What?” I was now imagining an Emperor’s New Clothes scenario. I was not going naked. I was okay with being a blank canvas, but not a naked or semi-naked one.
“I've got just the designer for you,” Charlotte said, looking me up and down and practically cackling with glee. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”
I looked at her confused and she just grinned wider. Taking my arm in hers and grabbing my bag, she dragged me into the house. There were people milling around looking at all the pieces up for display before the auction. They stared as she pulled me along, but Charlotte just kept going like they didn't exist.
“I am going to make you the Belle of the Ball,” Charlotte promised as we started up the stairs. She turned and grinned, her eyes bright with mischief. “Come with me.”
***
The girl staring at me was wearing a dress that had come straight out of a fairytale. Or a dream. Or both. The girl looked like a princess.
The dress was made of soft gold that flowed over her hips and made the woman in front of me appear lush and slender at the same time. A gold lace overlay started right at her hips and continued down the length of the gown to create a train that was both romantic and stunning. Her dark red hair was pulled back and clipped with a gold comb that matched the dress and brought out the shimmer of the woman's hair.
I swallowed hard and the girl staring back at me swallowed too. I made a face at the mirror and the princess in the amazing dress made the same face back. It was difficult to believe, but I cleaned up pretty good.
The three hours in the hair and makeup chair had done magic, and I was fairly sure that Charlotte had switched out the mirrors in the bedroom with magic ones to make me look this good in a dress. I no longer looked like the small-town girl from nowhere and instead looked like a movie star.
I looked like someone who could be with a billionaire.
“Holy crap,” Charlotte whistled, peeking her head in the door. “I do good work.”
Charlotte opened the door wider and came in. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder gown with a subtle mermaid ta
il in royal blue. With her dark hair and eyes, she was breathtaking.
“You look gorgeous, Charlotte,” I told her. She grinned.
“What? This old thing?” She grinned. Charlotte looked like she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. She circled me, evaluating my dress and appearance. She reached up and adjusted the comb in my hair. “Sebastian’s going to lose his mind when he sees you.”
“You're sure he'll be happy to see me?” I pressed my knuckles against the lace at my stomach. The butterflies inside of me were going mad and for a moment I thought I might be sick. What if he didn't feel the same way about me?
Charlotte sighed. I'd asked her this at least a dozen times while getting ready. “He's been the moodiest, most grumpy man I've ever had the misfortune of being around since you left. He hasn't even gone out paddle-boarding in the mornings. Just keeps talking about the dark.”
My heart ached for the pain I had caused. “I'm just nervous. I don't want to screw this up again.” I bit my lip and promptly tried to stop. It would mess up the lipstick Charlotte's makeup artist had just spent twenty minutes perfecting.
Charlotte came over and took my hands in hers. “He has been a mess without you. A broody, heartbroken, love-sick mess. He's going to be overjoyed to see you. I promise.”
“You know Bastian and I had a fight, right?”
Charlotte reached up and carefully fixed a stray strand of hair. One red lock kept falling out of my up-swept hairdo and falling across my forehead no matter how much hairspray we used.“Yes. I know.”
She took both my hands in hers. She smiled gently, her eyes meeting mine and making sure I heard her words.
“I said some terrible things...” My lower lip quavered.
“He loves you,” she stated. “I know Sebastian. And I've never seen him the way he was with you. He was happy. And this past week...” she shook her head and grimaced slightly. “This past week has been a nightmare without you.”