Page 64 of Unbonded
“I understand,” the contractor says, clearly reading my mood. “The place has a lot of potential, so it won’t be hard to get it ready for sale.” She turns a page in her folder and gives me a shrewd look. “As to fixtures, there’s a real mix of luxury and more practical pieces listed here.”
I give a dry laugh. “My ex and I had different views on the budget.” This elicits a scowl from Bram, and I shrug. “Whatever is quick and easy to source works for me.”
Jen nods, but when her pencil hovers over a bunch of question marks on her pad, Bram says, “Send all queries to me, Jen. You have the account information?”
“Yep. We’re good to go.” She closes her folder and hands me a set of keys to the new locks she’s installed. “Don’t worry. Ms. Valentine. We’ll make sure your investment is looked after.”
I nod, even though I’m a little anxious about covering the costs until I can get my design brand off the ground. But Bram’s mind is clearly on other matters as we head back to the front of the house. “Kate, I heard from Perry, my FBI contact. He didn’t have enough to hold King, so he organized a tail to follow him, but he’s gone underground.”
I stop abruptly, my heart thudding against my ribs. “He’s missing?”
Bram grinds his jaw, frustration written all over his face. “He’ll resurface, but until then, I need you to do a couple of things. Try to avoid being alone, and if he contacts you in any way, let me know immediately. The extra security here will keep him out, but I’m more worried about him approaching you on the street.”
“I’ll use Hector,” I say quickly, because the thought of being baled up by King makes a knot twist in my belly. “And I don’t plan on coming back here after this.”
Bram nods. “If you’re not picky about the details, Jen will have it finished up and on the market in a couple of months.”
“I’m not.” The only thing I’ll really miss is my cedarwood closet, and it seems kind of silly to moan about that when I have the real thing walking around at home. “There are too many ghosts here for me to miss this place. I just want to put it behind me. And I really don’t care what you get for it, just as long as it covers my debts.”
Bram grunts, looking more than a little insulted. “I’ll get you a great price, don’t worry.”
I smile and cup his cheek. Dash was right – brain and muscles is a tantalizing combo. “Thanks, Bram. I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’d manage,” he says, confidence now shining from his eyes. “But I’m glad I can help.”
After checking in with Dash – who’s chin-deep in a seaweed wrap – we head to Paragon. I want to put a couple of hours in at the salon, while Bram has a conference call he seems eager to take. When I ask him for a fifteen-minute slot in his calendar before we head home, he looks intrigued, but by the time I get to my computer, he’s booked a half-hour slot.
Someone has stocked my work area with a lot more than the basics I ordered, and I spend a very satisfying couple of hours immersed in fine fabrics and the kind of tools I’ve only everdreamed of owning. Ten minutes before my meeting with Bram, I grab a garment bag and my mobile alterations kit and take the executive elevator up to Bram’s office.
It’s on the top floor, a corner office that is a mix of modern and traditional. It has an imposing desk flanked by contemporary walnut armchairs, brass light fixtures, and a streamlined sofa upholstered in the luxurious gray flannel of an Armani suit. There are lighter touches, too, including a black and white picture on the wall of Bram and Corbus caught mid-joke, their heads tipped back as they give full rein to their laughter. I’m like a moth to a flame, captivated by their sheer joy, and Bram slips out from behind his desk to join me. “That was the day Corbus was given the keys to his house.”
I reach out to trace the wide curve of his mouth. “He looks so… free.”
“He was, in a way. Until then his official address was still his parents’ place back in Belgium.”
I think of the way he looked when he mentioned his mother last night – sad, confused, and worn down by a deep, enduring hurt. “Was it hard? The trip home, I mean.”
Bram considers the question for a moment. “He didn’t say a lot about his meeting with his mother, but she’s not a kind woman.”
I get the subtext.The countess is cruel to her clever, caring son.I guess that means you really can have everything and nothing at the same time.
“All the more reason for him to be proud of the man he’s become.” Bram gives a soft grunt of agreement, and I drag my gaze away from the picture, forcing myself to get down to business. “Okay. You’re probably wondering why I’m here. I just wanted to try something out on you.”
Bram’s gaze drops to the garment bag hanging over my arm and he takes a rapid step back. “I’m not good at modeling.”
“It’s not that, exactly.” I unzip the bag, his scent spiking as I reach in and pull out a tuxedo jacket. “I made this for you, based on one of your suits. It probably won’t be an exact fit, but I brought my kit with me for any tweaks.”
Bram still hasn’t bridged the distance between us, and now he rubs his jaw. “You made it for me,” he says slowly.
“Of course.” As the silence stretches between us, I give an awkward laugh. “Don’t take it personally. I’d dress the potted plant in the corner if it said it needed a new outfit.”
Bram is still staring at the jacket, and I realize he’s not sure what to do next. “Just take that one off and we can try it on here. Like I said, it’s a work in progress.”
He nods, but I can see the tension in his body as he walks over to his desk and removes his jacket, hanging it carefully on the back of his chair. He’s wearing a plain white business shirt underneath, and I try not to critique it with my eyes as he slips his arms through the new jacket. I button him up, smoothing down his lapels, and then take a step back to absorb the full picture. I’m pleasantly surprised by how close I got on the fit, and I let him see the admiration in my eyes. “Wow. You need a black-tie event. Stat.”
His brow wrinkles, but he disappears into the ensuite, and I chew on my nail while he studies himself. I know he looks amazing, but it’s whathethinks that counts, and I stew until he pokes his head around the door, his mouth slack with surprise. “You made me look good.”
“I told you.” I grin in relief, almost skipping over to join him. “You are as attractive as any man I’ve met, just on a slightly larger scale.” He tilts a look at me, and I bite my cheek, still smiling. “Okay, a much larger scale, but that doesn’t mean you can’t look good. You just have to choose fabrics and cuts that suit your shape, same as everyone else.”
