Page 42 of Velvet Chains
“Is it almost ready?”
Misha nods, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. “Yes, boss. Just putting the finishing touches on now. Should be good to go by the time we arrive.”
What’s ready?
I bite my tongue, trying to tame the curiosity burning inside me.
Luar, haven’t you heard? Curiosity killed the cat.
Suddenly, my eyes catch the familiar sight of the faded paint of the “Beanstalk Café” sign, swaying slightly on its rusty hinges. It’s the same place where I’d grab a scalding hot espresso before walking over to the bookstore from my apartment.
I feel my stomach drop.
This is my old block, the place I called home for so many years.
What the hell are we doing here?
“Where… are we?” I ask, hating the tremor in my voice.
Victor turns to look at me, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You mean you don’t recognize it? And here I thought you knew this neighborhood like the back of your hand.”
I glare at him, my temper flaring. “I do know it. But this isn’t—”
My words die in my throat as the car pulls to a stop. There, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight, is my bookstore. But not as I left it.
The remnants of the fire are nowhere to be seen. Instead, the building before me is unrecognizable.
Gone are the peeling paint and dingy windows, the sagging roof and crooked sign. In its place is a vision straight out of my wildest dreams, the storefront polished and welcoming, the display windows filled with artfully arranged books and cozy reading nooks.
“What… what is this?” I breathe, my heart pounding in my chest.
Victor leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “This is my promise to you, wife. Your store, restored to its glory. Yours to run as you see fit without your father’s interference.”
Opening the car door, I step outside.I shake my head, unable to wrap my mind around what I’m seeing.
“But how?”
I stare at the gleaming facade of my bookstore, my mouth hanging open in disbelief. The storefront is polished and welcoming, with tasteful navy-blue awnings over spotless display windows. Golden letters spell out “Thompson Tales of Fifth Ave” above the entrance.
Victor steps out of the car and comes to stand beside me, a slight smile on his lips as he watches my reaction.
“Close your sexy little mouth,” he murmurs, gently pushing my chin up with one finger.
I give my head a disbelieving wag, still dazed. “I don’t understand… How is this possible?
My hand flies to my mouth, snapping it shut, but my eyes remain wide. Not only has Victor restored it, but he’s expanded it into what was once Mr. Henderson’s adjoining property, tripling the original size.
“I have my ways. And some very persuasive lawyer with the best negotiation skills,” he adds, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
“You mean, you’ve met with Mr. Henderson?”
Before Victor can get a word in, my head starts to churn numbers. With such size, it’s going to cost a bomb.
“What is the rental going to be like?” I murmur to myself.
“Well, we bought the buildings, so there’s no rent for you to worry about,” Victor replies.
“We… What?” I turn my head toward him, stunned.
