Find Me Alastar(58)

“Maybe you could come looking for us. It’s way more fun if you think you might get caught.”

Her mouth nearly drops to the floor.

“Have a nice day, Stephanie.”

I breeze into the lift and give her a little wave.

“Fucking bitch,” she whispers under her breath.



* * *



My eyes glance over to Mark’s office door for the tenth time today. It’s 11am and I haven’t seen him properly, other than when he walked in this morning and refused to look at me. I need to address this whole mess urgently.

“I’m just going to discuss this project with Mark,” I murmur to Travis.

“Sure.”

I tentatively knock on the door. “Knock, knock.”

“Yes,” he calls.

I open the door. “Have you got five minutes?” I ask.

He glances up and then his eyes drop back to his computer. “Not really.”

He continues to type.

My heart drops. His ego is hurt. It’s not like we had a great love affair going on or anything, but he is disappointed in me. Hell, I’m disappointed in me.

I walk in and close the door behind me. “I just wanted to apologize for Friday night.”

He keeps typing but doesn’t look up. “Okay.”

“I didn’t mean to meet Star.”

He keeps typing.

“It just happened and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“That’s fine, Emerson.” He still doesn’t look up.

I pause, I don’t know what to say next. “Can we remain friends?”

“Sure.” He keeps typing.

“Can you at least look at me?” I ask.

He drags his eyes from the computer as if annoyed. “I’m very busy, Emerson.”

I nod. “I know.” I hesitate. Maybe now is the time to tell him about my suspicions on the stolen art? It would break the ice, I suppose.

I swallow the nervous lump in my throat. Hmm, after contemplating this for weeks, maybe now is the time. It’s my duty to bring this art theft to someone’s attention and Mark is my first port of call. I know he’s not a thief—at least I hope he’s not.

“I want to talk to you about the good news stories,” I murmur.

“Take a seat.” He gestures to the chair with a sigh.

I sit down dejected. This business between us is a mess. After an extended time, he looks up at me impatiently. “Yes, what is it?”

My stomach drops.

I place my folder on his desk. “I’m not sure if you are the right person to discuss this with, but I trust you and I wanted to come to you first.”

He looks at me without expression.

Here goes. “It has come to my attention that twenty-two people who have bought art from us have had that same art stolen from their properties within three days of it being delivered.”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“People are having their artwork stolen… and I happen to think it’s someone from here.” I lean into the desk and look around. “An inside job,” I whisper.

He frowns, picks up the folder and begins to read.

“It’s too much of a coincidence and the pieces are all pictures of women which are being stolen.”

He frowns as he flicks through the files with the names and relevant information inside them. I have been working on this for weeks. I know it’s not a coincidence. This is a calculated hit.

“All of the robberies have been reported to police individually, but the police haven’t joined the dots and connected them back to us. It was only when I started contacting people for the good news stories that this information has become obvious to me.”

He swings his chair from side to side deep in thought as he reads the reports.

“I’m not sure what to do with it. I think we should call the police,” I whisper.

He holds his hand up as he reads. “Hold up. Don’t jump to any conclusions. It may be just a coincidence,” he murmurs.

My eyes widen. Oh no. It’s him. The art thief is Mark. “I want to call the police,” I say quietly.

He nods and scratches his head in frustration. “Let me take it to management first. They will know what to do.”

“Okay.” Shit, this is hectic.

He looks up and gives me the first smile for the day. “Thank you. Good work.”

I smile back and stand, hesitating as his eyes hold mine. “I hope we can get past this and remain friends, Mark?”

He gives me a stiff smile and nods. I turn and leave the office, finally feeling a little better.



* * *



I walk down the street on a mission. It’s my lunch break and I am going to Heirloom to see Beverly to find out more about my ring. I have been reading my love letters and I’m officially beyond intrigued. I want to know if they have any names or dates or… anything—anything that gives me more information so I can research. I smile to myself as I walk. It’s ironic, really. I came to London to soak up the history and I somehow find myself as the owner of a beautiful antique ring and a box of precious love letters between a princess and her guard. Who would have thought? I’m not actually sure where Heirloom is, though. I have been here twice but the place I thought that it was looks like it’s now a travel agency? I must be in the wrong laneway or something. I look back to where I came from. Gosh, these cobble streets all look the same. It’s here somewhere. I search aimlessly until I run out of time and have to be back at work.