Chapter 23
Natalie
Iwas surprisingly calm as I drove to Julian’s. I did feel a bit more like I was on the way to the dentist than to a date, fake or otherwise, but I wasn’t afraid.
In fact, I was a little bit excited.
Houses sparkled with Christmas lights, and I turned on a playlist of soothing instrumental Christmas music.
Nina had caught me leaving, but I’d explained my outfit—a shimmery silver blouse, black pants, and heels—by telling her I was going out with Jensen.
It wasn’t a lie, exactly. We were both going out, and to the same place.
It was going to be fun to tell her the entire story once the necklace was back with its rightful owner. She was hardly going to believe it.
“I’m in position,” Jensen said quietly through the earpiece. “How are you feeling? Ready for this?”
“I’m ready.” I turned onto Julian’s street. “A little nervous, but not as much as I thought I’d be.”
“Good. You look beautiful.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
“I hate that another man gets to spend time with you tonight.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, recalling what he’d said to me at the Snowflake Ball. “It’s all part of the game.”
“Indeed. Once you’re inside, I’ll try not to interfere unless I’m needed. And darling, if he does anything to make you feel unsafe, leave. We can always come up with a new plan.”
“I will.” I turned onto his driveway. “I’m here.”
“Brilliant. Go get him, beautiful.”
With a deep breath, I stopped in front of the gate. A second later, it swung open, and I drove in.
It was easy to see why Julian had become the object of town gossip.
The house itself was built with the sort of rustic luxury style that was common in the mountains.
Large beams, big windows, wrought-iron embellishments.
But the statues flanking the front looked like something out of Renaissance Italy.
I was no art expert, but they looked like white marble. One was a man, the other a woman, both standing with one arm raised, as if reaching for each other across the driveway. Lighting illuminated them from below, making them seem to glow in the evening darkness.
The driveway curved, making a loop, so I parked in front of the house. The gate closed behind me, making me feel a bit trapped, and I was well aware of the numerous cameras. It was eerie.
My heart beat faster as I got out and walked to the front door. Strangely, my heightened nervousness didn’t make me want to leave. It made me want to succeed.
I knocked, and a moment later, Julian answered.
He wore a dark gray suit, no tie, and the top button of his shirt was undone. Not a hair was out of place, and his formality made me glad I’d dressed up. This wasn’t a casual, hang-out-and-eat-dinner-on-the-couch-while-watching-a-movie sort of date.
“Hi,” he said with a confident smile. “You look beautiful.”
Jensen growled in my ear.
“Thank you.”
He stepped aside. “Come in out of the cold.”
I went in, and he shut the heavy door behind me. He helped me slip off my coat and hung it in a closet near the door.
“Can I get you a glass of wine?” he asked.
“Yes, please.”
A large iron chandelier hung from the high ceiling, and a curved stairway with a polished wood banister led to the second floor. A water feature with a Renaissance-style sculpture—this one a cherub with wings—stood in the center of the foyer, and another statue perched on the landing above.
“Look for cameras,” Jensen whispered.
I glanced around but didn’t see any. If he had indoor cameras, they were hidden.
“This is lovely,” I said, gesturing to the fountain. “The water is so soothing.”
“It was sculpted by an artist in France. I had to have the entire floor torn up to get the plumbing put in, but it was worth it. Feel free to look around. I’ll be right back.”
While he went to the kitchen to pour the wine, I took slow steps through the first floor and tried to memorize the layout as best I could.
Windows, doors, hallways, rooms. The formal living room at the front of the house featured a fireplace with a stone front that reached the high ceiling.
That led to a dining area—the room Jensen and I had looked into from outside.
“Looks like a collector to me,” I said quietly. “Paintings, sculptures, vases, all kinds of things. He has art on the walls everywhere, and at least three glass display cases. No cameras that I can see.”
“Good,” Jensen answered. “You’re doing wonderful.”
I wandered into the kitchen, and Julian handed me a glass of white wine. It pricked that he hadn’t asked whether I liked white or red, but I accepted it with a smile.
“Your house is so beautiful,” I said. “I love how you’ve decorated.”
“Let me give you the grand tour.”
I followed him from the kitchen into an open great room with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the river. Although it was dark, soft lighting illuminated the landscape, giving it a dreamy winter wonderland ambiance.
Interestingly, however, he didn’t point out the view.
“This is late nineteenth-century Russian.” He gestured to a glass case with a bronze statue of a man in uniform on a horse.
“It’s beautiful.”
“And rare.” I didn’t miss the hint of self-satisfaction in his voice. “Probably the only one in North America that isn’t in a museum.”
Without waiting for me to reply, he continued moving slowly through the room and gestured to a large painting of a woman in a fancy white dress posing in a plush red armchair. “The painting is also Russian, same time period.”
“You must have a love for Russian art.”
“I have a love for pieces that are rare or…difficult to obtain.”
I hope you’re hearing this, Jensen.
“This is fascinating,” I said. “I saw some things when I walked in. Can you show me?”
“I’d love to.”
I sipped my wine as he showed me around the first floor, highlighting the various art pieces he had on display.
They were from all over the world. Statues from Italy and France.
A painting from Spain. A glass case filled with artifacts from Colombia and Brazil. A colorful tapestry from South Africa.
“Have you traveled to all these places?” I asked. “These don’t seem like the sorts of things you can find at regular art galleries.”
“I acquired some of them personally. But I also have some associates in the art world who procured certain pieces for me.”
A necklace displayed in a glass case caught my eye. It was gold strung with two layers of diamonds and pearls. It wasn’t the necklace, of course, but I hoped I could get him talking about his jewelry.
“This is beautiful. Do you collect jewelry as well?”
“Some. Especially antique jewelry. I’m not interested in diamonds for their own sake, but when they’re crafted into something like this, they’re worth having.”
“It tells a story. I can almost imagine the woman who wore it. Do you have more like this?”
"I do. It’s in the dining room.”
On the way, he pointed out a few more paintings, hinting each time that they were rare, and therefore expensive.
“He’s sure trying to impress you,” Jensen said quietly in my ear.
It wasn’t working.
The dining room had an ornate table and chairs with a matching cabinet on one wall. The windows Jensen and I had looked through opened to the side of the property. The shadowy outline of the iron fence was visible, as were the snow-covered trees beyond.
“This is one of my favorite pieces.” He picked up the glass case with the brooch. It had a large square-cut emerald in the center surrounded by a starburst pattern of gold-set diamonds.
I touched my hand to my chest, emphasizing my awe. “It’s so beautiful. Is it an antique?”
“Victorian era. It belonged to a British noblewoman.”
“Stolen,” Jensen whispered.
“Where did you get it?”
He smiled. “This one was a bit of an adventure to acquire. It came from the UK.”
I waited, but he didn’t elaborate. He set it back on the cabinet, and I didn’t miss the hint of a smirk that crossed his features.
“Ready for dinner?” He gestured to the table, already set with two place settings across from each other, including wineglasses. “Have a seat. I’ll bring everything in.”
“Are you sure you don’t need help?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be right back.”
“I hope he’s our thief,” Jensen said. “I very much want to screw him over.”
I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh, and took a seat.
A moment later, Julian returned with a large white serving dish. He set it down and removed the cover. “Beef bourguignon.”
Interesting that at no point had he asked me about my food preferences.
“It smells delicious.”
“I have a soft spot for French cooking.”
He left again and returned with a plate of bread and an open bottle of red wine.
Apparently, we were drinking red now.
I hadn’t finished my white, but I moved the glass aside. He poured me some red before pouring a glass for himself.
He sat at the head of the table and lifted his glass. “To new acquaintances.”
I held my glass up and clinked it against his. “Cheers.”
Julian kept the conversation going as we dished up and started eating—conversation that centered squarely on him. His business. His main residence on Mercer Island, just outside Seattle. His even more extensive collection of art housed there.
The more he talked, the more I disliked him. We got through the entire meal, and he hadn’t asked a single question about me. He didn’t know what I did for a living, where I lived, whether or not I had any family, or what I liked to do in my free time. Literally nothing.
And something else was off about the situation. I glanced around a few times, wondering what it was. While he was back in the kitchen preparing our dessert, it hit me.
No Christmas decorations.
He didn’t have a single nod to the holiday season. No Christmas tree, no lights, no wreaths or garlands. Not a candle, candy cane, evergreen bough, or sprig of holly.
I shifted in my seat. I still needed to find a door or window to unlock so Jensen could get in.
“Julian,” I called. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”
“Down the hallway and to the left.”