Chapter 6 Tate
TATE
I fumble with the tie at the back of my apron as little fingers grip happily onto my other hand. I sneak a sideways glance at the little girl’s father who’s holding her other hand as he leads us along the sidewalk toward the building next door.
Sullivan Beaufort.
His dark hair is swept back from his penetrating cool blue eyes, and his face is set firm.
I don’t know whether to be afraid or not.
He looks like he crushes business opponents beneath his Italian leather shoes before breakfast without even breaking a sweat.
Judging by the part of his phone call I overheard and the pulsing vein in his tense neck, I’d say he has his sights on his next target.
The little girl grins at me and I smile back.
Assessing blue eyes flick over, and I swallow as they drop over my uniform and two scowl lines deepen between his brows. I yank the tie on my apron again, pulling the cocoa-marked fabric off and holding it by my side.
“Tate, isn’t it?” The deep gravel of his voice saying my name sends a shiver up my spine. He sounded scary on the phone, and I bet he’s terrifying in person when you’re on the receiving end of his wrath.
“That’s right.” I fumble with my apron, not knowing what to do with it as we approach the giant glass doors of Beaufort Diamonds.
He stops on the thick blue and gold embossed sidewalk carpet and studies me like he’s regretting his decision to invite me to… whatever this is.
I stuff the soiled apron underneath my armpit so I don’t have to let go of his daughter’s hand and thrust my other hand toward him.
“Tate Miller.”
His eyes drop to my outstretched hand for a second before he lets his daughter’s hand go and reaches out to curl his fingers around mine. His shake is firm and confident, like he always has to be the one in the lead. The one in control.
His hand returns to his daughter’s within seconds, and maybe I imagine the way he stiffens for those brief moments their contact is broken.
“Sullivan Beaufort. And this is Molly,” he clips.
His eyes soften as he looks down at the little girl with dark curls, but they regain their business-like detachment the moment they lift back to mine.
“Hello,” Molly pipes up.
I can’t help but break her father’s eye contact and grin as she beams. “Hello,” I reply, “it’s nice to be formally introduced, Miss Lion.” I hold my hand out to her, and she pulls hers free of mine so we can shake.
“So… coloring?” I ask lamely.
“I have an important call to make, for which my daughter cannot be present. You’ll stay within my sight. And of course, I will compensate you for your time,” he states, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he eyes the apron I’ve stuffed under my arm like he’s severely regretting his choice.
“So, you’re hiring me for the next thirty minutes?
” I say, sounding much braver than I am.
But I pull my shoulders back and lift my chin, faking confidence.
He might be a billionaire who owns the ridiculously extravagant building we’re about to walk inside, but I refuse to be intimidated by him, when, by the sounds of it, I’m about to help him out without being given a choice.
I pull the apron free and hold it more neatly by my side, noting the flare of his nostrils as they pass over my uniform.
“It will only take twenty,” he grinds out before clearing his throat. “Is that… agreeable to you?” The words are forced like he’s used to people doing what he says without question.
I don’t know whether he’s looking at me. I’m busy smiling at his adorable daughter who doesn’t seem to have inherited any of her father’s arctic abruptness.
“Color?” she asks hopefully.
“Color. I hope you have pencils? I can go back inside to get some—”
“Molly has plenty,” he clips, as a suited doorman opens the giant gold-handled glass door for us with a flourish.
“Mr. Beaufort. Miss Beaufort. Ma’am.”
“Good Morning, Joe,” Sullivan replies, sweeping us inside.
My jaw hits the floor as we walk into the lavish interior that is Beaufort Diamonds flagship store.
Ashley has some balls coming here and trying their pieces on.
I feel like I should turn around and walk straight back out.
I don’t belong here. This place is fancy, opulent… and dripping with extravagant luxury.
“This is one of our new pieces,” a sales assistant tells a couple as she presents a giant glittering ring to them on a velvet pad.
“How many carats?” the woman asks.
“Five.”
“Clarity?” she purrs.
“Internally flawless. It’s from one of the Beaufort mines,” the sales assistant tells her proudly.
“How much is it?” the woman asks.
“One hundred and seventy.”
The woman nods at her partner, an older man in a fancy suit.
“If you like it, Darling, then we’ll take it,” he says without giving it any thought.
My mouth goes dry. They’re talking thousands. One hundred and seventy thousand.
“Jesus,” I breathe, causing Sullivan’s eyes to dart to me.
Fingers tightening around my apron, I clamp my mouth shut and keep pace with him as he walks us across the plush carpet toward a bank of elevators.
The staff all greet us with bright, beautiful smiles as we pass an enormous cylindrical fish tank in the center of the space.
It’s filled with giant shells, over which pieces of stunning jewelry have been draped.
The whole place smells expensive and high end.
I wouldn’t be surprised if a member of the British Royal family appeared from one of the private viewing rooms positioned at the rear of the store.
I tilt my head backward to admire an eye-catching poster taking up a floor-to-ceiling section of the wall behind one of the glass display areas.
“Auntie Sin,” Molly declares.
A suited staff member greets us as he holds a white-gloved hand out, inviting us into the waiting elevator.
“My sister models for the company,” Sullivan says, stepping inside.
I let go of Molly’s hand as we turn to face the doors, but she slips her fingers back inside mine with ease, doing the same with her father on the opposite side. The sight of the stunning blonde wearing a sparkling diamond choker and matching earrings disappears from view as the doors slide closed.
My head’s still spinning from the extravagance of the store’s ground floor level as we ride up to the highest level and step out into an immaculate marble-floored reception area.
“Cara?” Sullivan says, marching us over to a blonde sitting behind a giant, sleek, navy reception desk. She has platinum-blonde hair that shines like ice where it’s cut perfectly to her jaw in a chic style.
“Good morning, Mr. Beaufort. Good Morning, Molly.” She smiles at them both before her eyes land on me and she subtly reads the Caffeine Couture logo on my shirt.
“Can you issue Miss Miller a visitor’s pass, please?”
“Of course.” She smiles at Sullivan again, her perfectly laminated brows lifting as she ignores me and speaks directly to him. “And what is the nature of her visit?”
“Personal guest,” Sullivan clips, pulling his chiming phone from his pocket and frowning at the screen.
“I see.” The receptionist’s lips purse as she taps something into her keyboard before reaching to a printer and taking something from it.
Sullivan’s typing away on his phone as she places an ID card fastened to a clip down on the counter. She slides it toward me with one scarlet nail like touching it any further would result in her needing to scrub her hands.
“Make sure you wear it at all times so the Beaufort team knows you’re only a visitor,” she says with a fake smile.
I pick up the smooth laminated card embossed with the company’s gold logo. She never told me she was taking my picture. I don’t even know where the camera is. Somewhere on her ridiculously shiny desk by the looks of it, judging by the unflattering angle straight up my nose she’s managed to catch.
“All done Mr. Beaufort,” she trills, flashing him a megawatt smile as he looks up from his phone.
“Good,” he grunts, the frown lines deepening between his brows as he eyes where I’ve clipped the ID to the breast pocket of my shirt. I glance at it, wondering if I should have put it somewhere else, but no one else here is wearing one for me to know if I’ve committed some swanky ID badge faux pas.
“Follow me.”
He walks purposefully, one hand in his daughter’s as he leads me past a network of glass walled offices, each filled with smart, stylish businesspeople who’d pass as runway models.
We stop outside an open door. It leads into a giant corner office with panoramic views across the city.
“Wow,” I say without thinking.
“I’ll be taking the call in my office,” he says. “You can make yourself comfortable in here with Molly.”
He opens the door to another glass walled room directly opposite his, and I walk inside.
It appears to be a waiting room with sofas and bookshelves, and a coffee station set up on a large sideboard, alongside glittering jewelry brochures.
But behind the corporate seating area is what can only be described as a kid’s dream.
There’s a large crafting table covered in pens and multi-colored stacks of paper and sticker books.
Giant beanbags cover the floor in one corner, next to a display stand of children’s books.
And in the corner is a small slide, next to a teepee tent that has rainbow bunting strung around it.
Molly trundles in happily, bypassing all the stuffy office furniture and heading straight for the wonderland behind it.
“Between my father, sister, and myself, Molly doesn’t spend that much time here. But when she does, I like her to…” He presses his lips together, his eyes following Molly as she picks a teddy up from on top of a beanbag and starts talking to it.
“You like her to have her own space to play.” I smile at him, a pang of sympathy tugging at my chest. He’s clearly torn about having to bring her here sometimes when work gets in the way. He might be a billionaire, but I know a father’s guilt when I see it.
“I used to go to work with my father a lot as a kid. I loved it,” I tell him. “It helped me to appreciate how hard he worked for both of us.”
“Both of you?”
I nod, my breath catching at how intense his eyes are when they’re laser-focused on me.
“Yeah, just us. My mother passed away when I was a kid.”
“I’m sorry,” he says in a tone one degree warmer than his sub-zero business-like one.
“Thanks.” I gaze around the room. “So you want me to play with Molly in here, and you’ll be in there?
” I gesture to the giant corner office that has a direct line of sight into this room.
It’s obviously been set up specifically like this so he can see inside from his office without obstruction.
“It’s like a fish tank. Will I find diamonds in this one like the one downstairs? ”
Nerves make me laugh, but it withers as he remains silent.
“With your attention on my daughter, even if there were, I don’t expect you’ll have time to notice.”
“No, of course not,” I agree.
His eyes narrow as he stares at me like I’m a bug under a microscope. “Arabella gave you a glowing recommendation,” he says slowly, like he’s failing to understand his own words.
“She did?” I can’t help the surprise in my voice. His PA is lovely, and I enjoy chatting with her when she comes in for their coffee. But it’s always during the morning rush, so we barely exchange more than a few words before she’s gone again.
“Shouldn’t she have?” he rasps.
The intensity of his scrutiny steps up a level, making my stomach twist. “No, no, of course. That’s really nice of her, and I love kids.
Molly and I will have fun while you make your call.
And I’ve never so much has had a parking ticket.
Law abiding citizen right here.” I tap the center of my rib cage and the ID rattles against my shirt.
I swallow as he stares at me.
“Molly?” he calls, his eyes trained on mine. “Daddy will be back soon, okay? Tate’s going to stay with you.”
“Okay,” a little voice calls back.
“Give your details to Cara and she’ll wire five hundred dollars to your account before you leave.”
“Five hundred? For twenty minutes?” I gape at him. That’s enough to get a couple of weeks’ worth of the good groceries for Dad and me.
His brows flatten “Of course… this was short notice. I’ll tell Cara one thousand. Now, please, excuse me.”
He walks to the door before calling back to Molly. “See you in a while, Sweetheart.”
Then he closes it, leaving us inside.