Page 4 of Blue Embers
“What can I do for you?” Benjamin asked, eager to please, as always.
“I’m looking for Ms. Grant,” I said. “She called my assistant yesterday. Said something needed my approval.”
Benjamin gave the subject a bit of thought, his eyes wandering as if he was actually searching his memories for the thing I was talking about.
“Oh,” he jolted. “Yes, yes. She was asking for you. She told me she found a piece of jewelry that she wanted to add to the collection.”
I waited for Benjamin to include where Ms. Grant was with that statement, but he paused again, biting his lip like he was trying to remember more.
“Could you tell me where I can find her?” I said.
“Right,” Benjamin nodded, snapping back to attention. “She’s on a coffee run. She should be back soon. Would you like me to call her?”
“No need,” I shook my head. “I’ll wait downstairs. I might as well take a walk around while I’m here.”
“Of course. Would you like me to accompany you?”
“I think I can manage,” I said with a chuckle, turning to make my way back down into the exhibit.
When I reached the ground floor again I made my way to the far wall where the many art pieces were hung in an array of styles, dates, and colors. I hadn’t seen the fully arranged wall of paintings yet and decided it was a good place to start, but as soon as I arrived at the first display, I heard the entrance click open and swing closed behind a new visitor.
Glancing toward the doors, my vision was obscured by a small, stone sculpture on a pedestal. I caught a brief glimpse of white as a pair of heels echoed across the marble floor. I waited for the figure to come into view, stepping subtly back to see around the statues dividing us. As soon as I saw her, I was caught a bit off guard by the dominating presence she cast into the room.
Dressed in a white, tailored suit, Persephone Grant was an independent presence. She was a tall, slender figure with heels that lengthened her already long legs. In one hand she held a leather satchel and in the other, she held a black tablet.
Fair skinned with a subtle spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks, Persephone was like a swan in her silhouette. A chin-length, strawberry-blonde bob framed her slim facial features and accentuated her neck. Admittedly, she wasn’t what I expected when I thought back on the times Malisa had told me about her nagging calls, meticulous organizational traits, and the general obsession with the exhibit’s success. I expected an older woman. Perhaps someone with a fashion sense that was rooted more in the previous decade, but this woman was quite attractive in an elegant, confident sort of way. I found myself taking a moment to watch her walk before I spoke up, grabbing her attention just before she started up the steps.
“Ms. Grant,” I said, slipping one hand loosely into my pants pocket.
She stopped abruptly and turned, her hair whipping around in a fan-like manner. Looking at her straight on, she was stunning in a unique sense. She was wearing a pair of glasses with thin gold rims that gave her a brainy edge like something from a secretary fantasy. Blue-green eyes pierced the light, outlined with a faint, black frame of makeup and a smokey shading that lit up the rich hues. Sharp cheekbones gave her an almost elvish spark that made her a bit odd in appearance. Unable to help myself, I let my gaze glide along the length of her figure and back up to the inquisitive expression on her face.
“Mr. Valentyne,” she spoke, taking a step forward.
The subtle narrowing of her eyes said she saw my gaze and noticed exactly where it moved, but her naturally pink lips stretched politely into a greeting smile instead of a frown. Her voice carried a smooth and almost alluring tone that matched her poised posture.
“You’re actually here,” she said.
I started toward her, gesturing to the exhibit with my free hand.
“And the progress doesn’t disappoint,” I said.
“I should hope not. We open the exhibit next week.” She straightened her shoulders, tucking her tablet under her arm to free one hand. I watched as she placed her feet together and reached out to greet me properly. “It’s good to finally meet you,” she smiled. “I was starting to think you might have actually died in that attack a few months back.”
I cocked my head and took her hand in greeting. Her grip was firm, but not to the point of overcompensation. This woman was an achiever and a passionate individual who knew what she wanted. I could tell that about her with just one glance. It was written in the way she held herself and slowly that odd look about her started to turn into something quite attractive.
“Still alive,” I said. “I’ve been traveling frequently these past few months to take care of some business. And the collection does look incredible. You’ve outdone yourself.”
“There was a lot here before you brought me on. I just did the organizing and finishing touches. Admittedly, your last curator left the place in a bit of disarray, but we managed to pull it together.”
“Indeed you have,” I smiled, internally turning the charm on a bit in an effort to get to know this woman. “So? You had mentioned to my assistant that you needed approval for something.”
“Yes.” She blinked as if suddenly remembering. “Just a last minute addition I was hoping I could include in the collection.”
“I hired you to curate, Ms. Grant,” I said. “You hardly need my approval. On that note, there’s something that I wanted to include as well.”
“Oh? Do you have it with you?”
“Not today, no,” I said, my eyes scanning her for the coffee she was supposedly out to get. “Benjamin mentioned you went on a coffee run?”
