Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
C ecilia
“That, ladies and gentlemen, is number eleven,” I chime in my head as I count how many times James clenches his jaw. He did it quite a bit when he was frustrated, like right now.
We were meeting with the design team to see what ideas they were recently coming up with that could help the marketing team, but so far, all of the ideas had already been done or were flat-out atrocious. Personally, I didn’t care for jewelry much anyway, but these were just god-awful, and I could tell James thought so, too.
“Is there anyone that has anything worthwhile to show me?” he bites out to the room. I watch as everyone shrinks in their seats, holding their portfolios close to their chests. “Perfect,” he grumbles under his breath, snaking an irritated hand through his hair.
I observed some ideas already thrown out onto the table, feeling absolutely nothing. Jewelry was supposed to make you feel something, right? It was supposed to be romantic and reflect thoughtfulness. I wasn’t getting any of that from these designs. Everything was overly large, harsh, and chunky.
“I want everyone to scrap their ideas and start over. I seem to have hired no one of competence because not a single one of you has gotten the integrity of Labyrinth Crystals through to your sketches.” I gasped quietly at his rudeness, but apparently, it wasn’t quiet enough because his eyes snapped to mine, and he glared at me, like daring to make a sound in his presence was sinful. “Was there something you wanted to add, Cecilia?”
I try to keep from grinding my teeth together as I match his glare. “Nope.”
“Because it sounded like you had an opinion.”
“Well…” I begin shakily. “I think if you were a touch nicer, then maybe people could do their jobs better.”
“I’m nice when it’s warranted. What I was shown today didn’t warrant nicety.”
“Which reflects in their ideas, in my opinion.”
He tilts his head, his new attention feeling like knives pressing into my skin. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Well… you say that Labyrinth as a whole isn’t being reflected in their ideas, but from what I have seen so far, it has. These sketches are rough and unemotional. This place,” I say, looking around me, “feels that way. No wonder it’s bled through their artwork.”
He ticks a brow, his finger tapping slowly against his chin. “So, what are you proposing?”
“I guess some warmth,” I say honestly. “Jewelry should reflect all the warm emotions of the person gifting or buying it, whether it be love, adoration, thoughtfulness or remembrance. It needs to be soft and meaningful. I don’t think I’ve seen anything in your collections that has represented that.”
The room is quiet, and my face heats because I feel like I just rambled off a bunch of nonsense. I look back down to my notebook, which I was doodling in to try and lessen the blow of everyone’s judgment.
“Cecilia,” James’s stark voice calls out. I slowly raise my head to meet his piercing eyes. He stares silently at me for a moment before speaking again, and when he does, it nearly knocks me out of my chair. “You’re right,” he admits. He looks at the people in the room around us. “Let’s take things in a different direction. Everything Cecilia said, I want you to take into consideration when you start your new designs.” Everyone in the room nodded, and I could see people already scribbling down ideas in their notebooks. It gave me a sense of accomplishment, and I felt a little more confident.
I follow James out of the meeting, unable to keep a smile off my face as we head back to his office. “Quit making that face,” he says without turning to look back at me.
“What face?” I chime.
“You’re smiling like an insane person. Knock it off.”
“I can’t help it. James Kingston said I was right. In a room full of people. Do you know what that does to a girl’s ego?”
He stopped just in front of his office and turned to face me. “Ah, so you do value my judgment?”
My stomach dipped, and I realized that he might be right. I wasn’t sure why I did, but suddenly, after being here this week and witnessing firsthand how powerful he was, I did come to find a small amount of respect for him. But still, I lie to him anyway.
“I don’t, but it’s cute that you keep hoping for it.”
He moves closer to me, his head dropping so close to my face that his scent slams into me like a wrecking ball. He smells so good, and the heat of his stunning gaze feels like all the oxygen is being sucked straight out of me. His eyes roam my face without speaking, and I can’t help but stare back at him despite feeling unsettled by his abrupt closeness.
“You better wipe that smile off your face, little owl, or the people here might think I’m doing something else in this office to put it on you,” he says lowly before pulling away and stalking back into his office, leaving me standing alone outside with legs that now felt like jelly.
My face was burning hot, and I could barely move. I felt like I was going to melt like butter if I tried. Seriously, just what was he implying? And why did that particular scenario not instantly sicken me?
I decide not to reply to him because my brain is now scrambled, and I stalk into his office as if I were unaffected and sit back in my chair. I covered my face with my book of word searches because I couldn’t bear to make eye contact with him. Thankfully, he gets onto his computer, paying me no attention. I relax a little, filling in my word search to distract myself.
After about five minutes, though, I couldn’t help but peek at him from over my book and observe him as he paid attention elsewhere. I could only see his brown eye right now, and I liked how it looked from this angle. I couldn’t tell that he had two different colored eyes. It makes me picture him with only brown, and I like the way it looks, making his icy hair pop more against the warmth of them.
He had a strong nose, too. I feel like not many people pay attention to noses, but I did. I liked a good, strong nose. His was definitely a nice one. His jaw, too…it was so squared and chiseled, like sharp stone. He looked as though man created him to show what perfection could look like. It sucks that they forgot to add a soul to him because the man was downright wicked despite being gorgeous.
“You’re staring, babe,” he says without taking his attention off his computer. I jump in my seat at his abrupt voice and force my eyes back on the book in front of me.
“I was not,” I mumble, sparing him a glance.
“That’s all right.” He smirks, still looking at his computer. “We’re both seeming to boost each other's egos today.”
“Whatever,” I grumble, slumping in my seat. Thankfully, his phone rings, and he answers it. He talks to whoever is on the other line for a couple of minutes, and when he hangs up, he stands from his seat.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, walking towards the door.
“Where are you going?”
“It’s a personal matter. Stay here,” he demands before walking out of the office and shutting me inside.
Alone.
“Are you kidding me?” I rasp, staring at the door. Personal matters are exactly what I wanted to be present for, but of course, he probably knows that, and that is why he shut me in here.
I look around his office now, stopping at his desk. Well… I guess I’ll have to find something myself in here. I slowly rose from my seat and traipsed behind his desk, sitting in his much more comfortable chair than the one I’d been occupying. I shuffle some papers around his desk, not finding anything of importance. I glance at the door again, listening closely for voices, and when I hear nothing, I continue my search.
I opened his desk drawers and found nothing but office supplies. I didn’t dare get on his computer because I didn’t have the bravery for that level of snooping. I pulled out the center drawer of his desk and shuffled through it. I picked up a box of blank envelopes, tossing them aside when a picture fell from under the box.
I picked it up and saw two little boys standing side by side in the photo. One had darker hair and slightly tanner skin, and the other was paler, with icy blonde hair and two different-colored eyes. I couldn’t help the catch in my chest at seeing James as a little boy. I was curious who the other one was beside him. They looked to be about twelve years old or so.
I flipped the picture over, and the names James and Stefano were scribbled in small cursive writing in the top left corner. Stefano? As in…Stefano Luccio?
The door opens, and I drop the picture, slamming the drawer shut as James walks inside. He stops at the entrance, his cold glare feeling like it’s cutting me in half.
“What are you doing?” he asks slowly.
“I was…I was looking for…” I sputter in fear, unable to find a single word.
“That’s just it. You’re always looking for something, aren’t you?” he snaps, striding towards me now with an entirely new air around him that I’ve never felt before. I always knew he wasn’t to be trusted. I always felt like he was dangerous, but I guess I never felt any of that danger aimed at me.
Until now.
He stops next to me and kicks his chair out from behind me, letting it slam loudly into the wall and making me jump. “Leave. You’re done here today,” he practically snarls, and I don’t argue. Where I felt a small amount of warmth from him earlier, all I could feel and see now was his icy cold exterior—the real James Kingston.
I quickly walk around his desk, his silent presence overwhelming and threatening as I grab my purse and run from his office. I heard his door slam shut once I was near the elevator, and it wasn’t until I was off of it and walking out of the lobby into the cold fall air that I felt like I could catch my breath again.
I’d never seen him so angry and hostile, and I was starting to wonder if this entire thing between us had been a foolish game that he was now done playing.
It’s only about five in the evening when usually I’d be here for another couple of hours. I should have taken a taxi back to the hotel where I was staying, but I was feeling overly anxious now, and the last thing I wanted was to be cooped up in a hotel room. I was thankful it was a Friday and that James and I had the weekend to get some much-needed space from each other. Being with him every day was starting to take its toll on me in ways I didn’t anticipate.
I hug my blazer around my body as I walk down and around the block. It was a particularly cold fall season this year in the city, and I was kicking myself for thinking I could keep getting away without wearing a jacket.
Around the corner, I spot an old Italian-style bar sitting on the corner. Deciding I had nothing better to do, I sat down inside. Soft jazz is playing inside, and I find its tune immediately relaxing.
“What can I get for you?” The bartender asks.
“I’ll have a glass of white wine, please.” He nods, setting a wine glass in front of me, and pours some inside.
“Put it on my tab,” a voice says to my left, and I look over to see a man sitting down next to me. He was older, in his late fifties, and was a little heavier set. His nose was noticeably large, and his skin looked thick and worn. His hair was straight and slicked back, reaching the nape of his neck, and his eyes were thin and beady, regarding me with too much interest for my liking.
More anxiety slams into my stomach, and I fight to keep it at bay as I give him a polite smile. “Thank you, but that’s okay. I’m having a glass and then leaving.”
“I think you’ll want to stay a little longer,” he says, nodding at the bartender, who seems to know his usual and pouring him a glass of whiskey.
“I think I won’t,” I rebuke, ready to stand and leave now.
“My name is Hodge. Hodge Wiseman.”
I freeze, a sense of recognition floating through my head. I’ve heard that name before but couldn’t exactly place it. “Should I know of you?” I ask curiously.
“You’ll want to. I own Wiseman’s, Labyrinth Crystal’s competitor.”
“Oh,” I chime, remembering now. I’ve heard some on-and-off talk about him throughout the office, but it wasn’t much. “What makes you think I want to know you?”
“Because I can help you with your brother,” he says, sipping his glass. I try to keep my shock from registering in my expression. How does he know about my brother, and how does he know I’m trying to help him?
“What makes you say that?”
“Listen, we can help each other here. I want Labyrinth Crystals out of the game, and you want your brother out of the game.”
“What game? It’s just a jewelry industry, right?”
He shoots me an unmistakable look, and unease fills my stomach. “You don’t believe that, though, do you?”
I shrug, trying to remain indifferent. “I’m not sure what I believe.”
“Well, when you decide,” he says, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out a card that he slides against the bar toward me. “Give me a call. James Kingston isn’t the man he claims to be, and sadly, neither is your brother. If you want to help him, then let me help you.” He then downs the rest of his drink, stands from his chair, and leaves.
I picked up the card and read it, seeing his name and phone number printed. I then tuck it safely into my purse and down my wine like he had, feeling all kinds of stressed and restless now. I pull my phone out and search Hodge Wiseman, and the same man’s photo pops up, and I can’t tell if I’m relieved or even more panicked. It was nice knowing he was a legit person and not some lying creep, but…how did he know about my brother and me, and why was he so interested in helping me and taking down Labyrinth Crystal?
I needed more facts but felt I wouldn’t like them either way. For some strange reason, I was already disappointed that I might be proven right about James. I don’t know why I suddenly cared so much, but I did, and the idea of going behind his back with his competitor wasn’t sitting right with me.
But then I think back to just a little while ago. The way he regarded me and raised his voice. His cold and unfeeling gaze on mine made me feel like I was nothing to him. It was the way he treated everyone, and I was no different. I needed to remember why I was doing all of this in the first place.
I wanted to keep my brother safe, and if that meant taking down James Kingston…then so be it.