“You thought I was stealing a painting?” he finally asked, straightening his suit jacket. His voice was commanding and powerful.
I nodded, staring at my bare feet. Not only did I just try and tackle a billionaire, but I didn't even have shoes on. I was such a failure at life.
Mr. Belrose evaluated me for a moment and let out a sharp snort. “I suppose I should be grateful that an employee would feel so inclined to prevent theft,” he said finally, sounding irritated. “Look at me.”
I slowly rose my eyes to meet his. I had seen pictures of Sebastian Belrose on the internet, but in real life, he was gorgeous. He had light, golden-brown hair cut in a short, neat fashion that accented the strength of his jaw and broad shoulders. The thing that the pictures never conveyed was the strength and power that radiated off him in waves. It was like the difference between seeing a black and white picture of a painting and standing next to the real thing.
I could see the f
aint but distinctive scar across his cheek and eyebrow. I hadn't been able to find any information on where he had gotten it. It was just one of the many internet mysteries surrounding Sebastian Belrose. While the scar made him look dangerous, it was his eyes that gave him the aura of power and confidence.
They were a blue so light that they were almost gray, especially against the dark fabric of his designer suit. They reminded me of a misty sky just before the dawn. He looked at me, those eyes full of confidence, and I forgot to breathe.
“Miss Ava Fairchild,” he said, as if testing out how my name sounded on his lips. I rather liked the way he said it, but it was a little overwhelming. “Would you like to see what I was stealing?”
I looked over at the wrapped package and fidgeted slightly. This was not a good way to meet one's employer.
“I'm so sorry, sir,” I apologized. My voice cracked and I hated myself just a little bit more.
“I didn't ask for your apology,” he growled. “I asked if you wanted to see it.”
I opened my mouth to apologize again and quickly shut it. That wasn't going to do me any favors. I knew I should say no, that it wasn't any of my business, but I couldn't. Now I was curious.
“Yes,” I whispered, blushing a deep crimson.
Mr. Belrose's eyebrows raised. “Open it.”
I looked up at him again, making sure I understood and he nodded toward the package. Cautiously, I went over and began to untie the string holding the wrapping to whatever was inside. Now that I was closer, I could see it wasn't a painting. It wasn't even shaped like a painting. The brown cloth wrapping fell away to reveal what looked like part of a broken surfboard. It was just the front piece, but it was obviously not a painting.
“Is that a painting?” Mr. Belrose asked.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Do you still think I'm stealing it?” His voice was a little lighter this time, but not by much. I wanted to shrink into the sand and never show my face again.
“No, sir.”
“Then we're done here,” he said gruffly. He picked up the broken piece of surfboard and handed it to me. “Since you're so keen on me not having it, you can run it to the trash.”
I nearly dropped it my hands were shaking so badly. Mr. Belrose's eyes went to mine again, capturing me in their dusky power. My heart pounded so hard I was sure I was going to need CPR soon.
His eyes are beautiful, I thought. I pushed away the thought and looked away. That thought was not even remotely appropriate for what was going on right now. I did not need to be noticing that my billionaire boss, who I had just tried to take down, had nice eyes. Or how broad his shoulders were. Or how nicely he filled out his suit.
“Yes, sir,” I stuttered. But I couldn't help but look up at his eyes again. They drew me to him like a moth to a flame.
It was like he could see straight through me and knew exactly who I was and what I was thinking. It made me glad I wasn't thinking something inappropriate, like him in his boxers, though given the way he was filling out that suit, it would be a very nice sight. Crap! I thought, blushing harder. Now, I'm thinking of him in his boxers!
I looked down again, hoping that it was dark enough to hide my blush. When I peeked back up, his eyes were still on me, but with just the barest hint of a smile. As if he did know what scandalous thoughts were going through my mind. And that just made me blush harder. This was not my night.
“Good night Miss Fairchild,” Mr. Belrose said evenly, turning to go back into the house. I just stood there, staring after him, holding the broken surfboard.
“Next time, just let me handle any thieves,” Elijah remarked, walking past me to follow his boss. I nodded, waiting until they were both gone before going to my knees.
That had been a disaster.
I carefully picked up the broken surfboard nose and all the wrappings, finally noticing a trashcan just off to the side. It wasn't in the direct light from the house, so it was hard to see. That was why he had been looking around. If I had just waited thirty more seconds before turning into Sir Galahad, I wouldn't be in this mess.
I carefully threw everything away before turning to go back in the house. Except, I didn't want to go back inside yet. Mr. Belrose and Elijah were inside, and the very last thing in the entire world that I wanted just now was to run into either of them again tonight.