Beauty and the Billionaire Beast

by Maria Hoagland

  “Did they sell the house to that family, then?”

  Theo had hoped she wouldn’t ask. Family grudges, passed down like his blue eyes and love of adventure, reared up inside his chest. “They did not.”

  He swallowed the bile at the back of his throat and tried to remain professional. All’s well that ended well, right? And the fact of the matter was that a century after the slight, the plantation was owned by that family now. Indigo Pointe belonged, in its entirety, to the Lambert family.

  Chapter 4

  What was this guy’s deal? Emma couldn’t think of anything less innocuous than taking a picture of a doorknob, for Pete’s sake. She’d known Theo was upset, but he’d been keeping it together, mostly, until, like a twig snapping in two, he got all bent out of shape over something as stupid as a picture. Really?

  Goosebumps erupted down both of her arms when the infernal man came to stand next to her, pretending to look at the family photos. She couldn’t concentrate on them with him standing next to her, not with his tempting scent of aftershave of evergreen bushes and something else she couldn’t place. Not when she was mad at him.

  Emma crossed the narrow hallway and stood in front of a framed pedigree of the property, a list of the plantation’s owners, but the adrenaline from the previous confrontation kept her from being able to focus.

  This time she heard his footsteps coming up behind her. She stiffened her back and held her jaw tight. She wasn’t going to let him catch her off guard again.

  “Delete it.” The words were a fiery blast into her ear.

  “Why?” She raised one hand, flicking her wrist as she challenged, though she didn’t turn to look at him. It was a ridiculous rule.

  “That was the condition I placed from the start. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  There was no answering that one. Although she didn’t agree with the rule—thought it was dumb, honestly—that didn’t mean she was justified in ignoring it.

  Emma could feel Theo’s body heat just inches behind her. It was both agonizing and exhilarating.

  The silence became a battle, one she was determined to win. Theo couldn’t force her to delete the photo, and he certainly couldn’t make her talk.

  Tate cleared his throat behind them, and both Emma and Theo turned toward the couple, the interruption welcome for Emma at least.

  “We’re going to head back outside. Grae wanted to look at the sundial again, see how accurate it is now that it’s been a good hour.” Tate checked his phone, presumably for the time. Emma felt for him. She hadn’t meant to make the couple uncomfortable, just … him.

  “No problem,” Theo said, as calm and friendly as ever. “We’ll meet you out there in a minute.”

  At least his voice no longer held the threatening tone, but of course he was speaking to Tate, who’d done nothing wrong. She had been the one to tick Theo off.

  She’d set him off, but he was already so near the edge, it hadn’t been hard. The question was how to deal with him now. Emma wouldn’t cower, if that was what he wanted. She wouldn’t give up just because he showed a little verbal muscle. If he wanted to engage, she could be a formidable opponent, but was going toe to toe with Theo the best way to get the information she needed? So far, she’d learned the most when he wasn’t paying attention to her.

  Theo had done well filling in as tour guide on the fly. Even after hearing almost the same speech at every plantation, she had learned something in his tour: pie-shaped bricks.

  And the German Coast. Another piece of her family puzzle, she was sure. Her great-grandfather’s description of a plantation with curving staircases had led her here, and finding the ivy pattern convinced her she was in the right place. Now she had to be on the lookout for Opa’s family treasure—the problem was that she had no idea what kind of treasure it was. Emma had carefully examined everything from the books and papers on the desk to the antique furniture around the room, but nothing seemed all that remarkable.

  With her luck, it was probably some ugly, old painting, since she wouldn’t know a valuable one if there was a neon sign pointing straight at it. Maybe she should just ask the stuffy “Mr. Lambert” if he had any idea about this, but there was no way he’d tell her if it actually was valuable.

  The ivy detail, though, had caught her attention immediately. In an area of the country where the fleur-de-lis was dominant, the ivy design was out of place and too unique to be a coincidence.

  Her heart thumped with the knowledge that she was on the right path. Already she had photographs of the curved staircases and the maze-like garden Opa reminisced about. She’d even tied the box to the plantation. If she could uncover its history and find the treasure, she’d be set. Though that was quite the if. But even if she got no more, with these photographs, Emma could help Opa anchor his shadowy memories, wisps of stories told to him by his own father and grandfather. She could gift him peace.

  Emma had always been intrigued by that mahogany box in Opa’s library. Square-based but angled in front, it was like a miniature secretary desk with a similar purpose. Tiny square compartments held inkwells, long since spent and dried but still just as glorious with their tiny brass lids that screwed on and off. Long, skinny nooks were perfect for holding quills or pens. Various-sized slots were perfect for today’s business cards, note cards, and paper clips.

  A leather blotter was tucked into the bottom of the box. Hinged at the middle, it could be opened to provide a smooth writing pad and had obviously been well used over the decades, as it boasted an ink stain or two from a leaky fountain pen.

  The box held history, a feeling of tradition and permanence, memories sitting next to Opa, learning to write her name with his calligraphy pen. Several of her ancestors must have penned love letters and business correspondence on it; perhaps even her great-grandfather had written this very journal on the pull-out shelf. If she could inherit just one thing, she would choose that box, especially as she learned more about its history and this special place it was tied to.

  With the official tour all but concluded, unless Emma could come up with something, her sleuthing days were over. She’d have no valid excuse to hang around the plantation looking for more.

  Disappointment filled her feet with lead. She couldn’t leave Indigo Pointe without searching the place top to bottom for more information about the Treagers. Her only choice was to trust Theo. Perhaps if she explained what she was up to, he might be interested enough to help her search.

  Her imagination conjured up a variety of potential reactions to her telling him why she was there—maybe Theo would yell for her to get out. He might tell her she had no right to be there, but she could handle that. What she wouldn’t do was leave without even trying. She’d seen slivers of good in the man that day, and she decided to hope that was who he truly was inside.

  At the sound of a text chime, Theo checked his phone, and by the time he put it away again, Emma had made her decision.

  “Can I show you something?”

  Theo looked skeptical, but nodded.

  Emma pulled the leather-bound journal from her bag. On the plane ride from Boise to New Orleans, she’d tagged a couple of the yellowed pages with sticky notes, marking the few key clues she had in this family mystery.

  She flipped to a page about three-quarters of the way through and turned it around so Theo could see. She’d studied the sketch so long it often found its way into her dreams. She knew without double-checking that it matched the ivy pattern perfectly.

  Emma caught a change in Theo’s expression and realized he’d made the connection between the box’s ivy-shaped lock cover in the sketch and the matching one on the door in the house. The pattern was so distinct, they had to have been crafted by the same artist. Theo’s lake-blue eyes looked up from the journal’s pages, and he cocked an eyebrow at her.

  He patted the journal with the palm of a large hand. “What is this?” At least he sounded more curious than anything.

  “I’m trying to un
ravel a mystery.”

  Both of his eyebrows went up this time in unasked question.

  She wondered how much she wanted to share. She carefully took the book from Theo’s hands. “It’s my great-grandfather’s journal, and I have a feeling that lock” —she pointed back at the door— “is a huge piece in the family puzzle I’m here to solve.”

  “And what is this family puzzle?” Was that suspicion that touched his words with frost?

  Of course he’d ask, but she was hesitant to explain the treasure hunt she was on. Not only would it sound silly to say it out loud, but she didn’t trust him. The place was his, so the treasure would be also, and although she wouldn’t steal from him, she at least wanted to unravel the mystery.

  “Opa wants to know the history of this box, and I’m trying to find out for his upcoming hundredth birthday party.”

  “Hmm.” Theo stood both several inches taller and wider than she, making her feel small and vulnerable, but his expression was soft, intrigued, as he seemed to consider. “Okay, Emma Treager, you may keep your photographs on two conditions. First, promise me this photo will not end up online. I’ll know where it came from if it does.” He left the unspoken threat hanging in the air until she nodded. She could live with that.

  A smirk transformed his handsome face into stone. “Second, you earn it. You work for me.”

  Chapter 5

  In Theo’s estimation, the shock on Emma’s face was priceless. That must have come out of nowhere for her, which made it all the better. Little did she know he’d vetted her through Zoe, finding out enough of Emma’s background to know he needed her skills. The photo was just a good excuse.

  “Should we head outside?” While Theo liked the idea of spending time alone with Emma, he didn’t want to force an answer from her. He was smart enough to know she would probably turn him down. With the way he’d lost his temper over the photographs, it could only end badly. Allowing time to settle between them, to provide more opportunities to see the real him rather than the jumpy, defensive man she’d just witnessed, would only help his case. “I should probably see if Tate and Grae have any more questions, thank them … you know, be a good tour guide.”

  He wasn’t sure what her look was supposed to mean, and wished he had the ability to read her mind. He led the way down the back wooden staircase and out the rear door of the manor. Generally, he was fairly good at figuring out what women thought about him, but then, his relationship track record wasn’t that great. He wouldn’t dwell on it. Things were going to change this time. He’d make sure of it. If he was honest with himself, he was attracted to Emma, and not only physically; he liked that she didn’t care what others thought when she fiddled around in the dirt on a tour or took furtive photographs.

  On the other hand, he’d pretty much given the poor woman an ultimatum. That wasn’t going to help his string of failed relationships. Maybe he needed to pull out How to Win Friends and Influence People again, because he was fairly certain this particular tactic wasn’t hidden in any of those chapters—even between the lines.

  He’d been mostly kidding about Emma working for him, but with the text he’d received from Zoe, the one touting Emma’s newly minted master’s degree in landscape architecture, meeting her was serendipity. He could tell he needed to hire Emma with every step they took back toward their vehicles because she stopped occasionally to touch a leaf, wave a fragrance toward her nose, check the dampness of the soil. Anything relating to gardening was way out of his element, but she seemed to be a master.

  “I was serious about the job offer, Emma.” Theo stopped in the church rose garden, far enough away that Tate and Grae, who were taking pictures in the live oaks, couldn’t overhear. He instinctively reached out to touch the velvety petal of one of the reds, which dropped off the bloom like it was weighted. Should it be doing that? He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I know better than anyone the landscaping needs work.”

  “You have no idea.” She almost smirked at him.

  She was right, of course. What did he know of the plantation? He’d only officially owned the place for a few weeks. Not only was he completely bereft of any horticultural knowledge—it had been part of the plan to hire someone to take care of that for him—but secrets about the property’s past? The fact that there might be some captivated his imagination.

  “At least I have an idea that I have no idea.”

  He had more than an idea, really. He had memories.

  Long after the Treagers had sold the main house and the sugarcane fields were owned by the Lambert family, the owner from California arranged for them to keep an eye on the property. Although Theo had been to the plantation several times growing up, usually with his uncle, the plantation foreman, he’d never noticed anything out of the ordinary. Lambert family lore held that Indigo Pointe did indeed have a secret—a hidden treasure that his family felt was theirs, kept from them by the Treagers. That had been the source of the family feud, as far as Theo had gathered. It was a shame, really.

  The families had come to America from the same village around the same time, and for generations, they’d helped each other navigate a new climate with new crops. Being on opposite ends of the slavery issue caused friction in the families’ relationships; it was this treasure that severed it completely.

  “I had Zoe do a quick reference check on you.” Theo could see Emma getting ready to protest, and he stopped her. “When you kept fiddling with my plants, I had a right to know. With your degree and your love of history, I think Indigo Pointe could be a good fit.” He paused. “That is, if you don’t already have a position elsewhere.” He wasn’t used to even asking. Usually when people knew who he was, they were the ones angling for jobs. “And if you do, I’m sure I could offer a competitive salary.”

  “What is it you’re looking for, Mr. Lambert?”

  He cocked his head at her and raised his eyebrow. “Don’t go all ‘Mr. Lambert’ on me. I already have Zoe doing that far too much.”

  Emma blew out a sigh. “Fine. What is it you want from me, Theo?” She put way too much emphasis on the name.

  “You want your ill-gotten photograph.” He made sure to emphasize what she was getting out of the bargain. “And I need this place spiffed up toute de suite. Remember Live Oak Lane this morning?” Of course she would. That was all everyone thought of when it came to Louisiana plantations. “I want Indigo Pointe to be more iconic, more realistic, more photographed.”

  Zoe had also confirmed that Emma was a descendant of Emeric Treager, the Emeric Treager of Indigo Pointe, and if Emma didn’t know of their family feud, she would as soon as she mentioned him to her parents. But he had the feeling that her desire to unravel this family mystery would ensure her acceptance of this little job offer. Part of him wondered if it was wise to invite someone who could be considered his foe into his territory, but he was less concerned with acquiring the value of the treasure and more concerned with finding it. Curiosity, at this point in his life, was way more of an incentive than money.

  Was there more to this mystery than the metalwork of the doorknob matching that of the wooden box? Did she know about the treasure as well? It didn’t make sense if she wasn’t aware of her family’s ties to Indigo. But why wouldn’t she? It was easy enough to trace.

  And if she didn’t know before she got there, she should have recognized her own name, right? While the first few generations of Indigo’s owners were named Heidel, the surname Treager about halfway down the list should have caught her eye. Then again, he hadn’t exactly given her much time in front of it.

  If she hadn’t figured it out already, he might as well tell her himself … except that he didn’t want to put a wedge between them. What if she held it against him that he owned what she thought should be hers?

  “Are we talking a temporary job or long-term here?”

  So she was considering it? Which did she want?

  “That’s negotiable. There’s plenty of work to keep you busy for quite a
while, but for now, I guess I was thinking of getting the most important things checked off as quickly as possible—in and done.”

  Chapter 6

  Theo had done as much damage control as he could; now he needed to give Emma time to consider.

  “We’d better head back—” Theo started, but Emma surprised him by cutting him off.

  “Do you mind if I walk the grounds a little so I can see what I would be getting into?” Emma motioned a graceful hand toward the office.

  As if he could trust her to go straight there. “Umm …” She wouldn’t have time to get into anything, right? “Sure.”

  Theo looked toward the parking lot and noticed Grae and Tate climbing into their car. “See you back at the office, then?” Theo called over his shoulder to Emma as he broke into a jog toward the cars. He should at least try to be a good guide and thank the young couple for coming.

  “I won’t be far behind.” Emma’s words almost disappeared in the afternoon mist.

  Theo tried to focus on the job at hand. He rushed over to Tate’s side of the car to bid them farewell through the driver’s side window, and then got into his own vehicle and followed them back to the office parking lot, where the two diverged. Waving goodbye, Theo parked his pickup and went in search for Zoe.

  “I can’t believe I did that.” He found her in the kitchen behind the main office, scooping cookie dough onto a baking pan. “I offered her a job.”