Find Me Alastar

My stomach drops. Shit. Go time.

I open the door. “Hi, Mark.”

“Hi, Emerson.” He looks me up and down. “You’re early.” I fake a smile. “Yes. I came out of my

apartment and these bags were on my doorstep.”

He looks at them and frowns.

“Did you get them delivered to me for some reason? Or am I supposed to know what they are?” I askPlease check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

calmly.

“What is it?” He frowns as he stands and walks around his desk.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I just opened one bag and it looked like some kind of old samples or

something.”

“Hmm.” He bends and opens the top of one of the bags and pulls out one of the canvases and opens it.

“I’m not sure,” he murmurs deep in thought as he studies the painting.

Oh, man, he really is stupid. Even I would know this is the stolen artwork.

I put my hands on my hips. “Anyway, I will leave them with you. Maybe the auction team had them

delivered to my home address by mistake or something,” I offer him as an explanation. He shrugs. “Hmm,

I will look into it. Thanks for bringing them in.”

I smile broadly. “No worries.” I hesitate, I need to keep him sweet. “I’m going to the café before I

start work to get a coffee. Would you like one?” I ask, looking for an excuse to move the damn car before

it gets towed and the police can trace Alastar ever being here.

He smiles. “Thanks, that would be great.”

I bounce out of the office and back to the lift. Damn it, I have to walk past dog patrol again. I put my

head down and walk back past reception.

“Where are you going?” Stephanie sneers.

Oh, mind your own business stupid wench. “I’m getting a coffee,” I reply.

“I’m telling Mark,” she threatens.

My fury starts to simmer. “I am getting Mark a coffee, actually.” I fake a smile.

She looks at me, deadpan.

“With extra sugar.”

“You don’t impress him, you know,” she sneers.

I smile my first genuine smile for the day. “I’m not trying to, Stephanie. I kind of feel that it’s

embarrassing trying to impress a man who doesn’t want you, you know?”

She narrows her eyes just as the front door opens and we both turn. Horror hits me like a freight train

when I see it’s Alastar. What the hell is he doing here?

“Bye, Stephanie,” I grunt as I walk Alastar backwards out the door.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper.

“What are you doing?” He growls.

“I gave the artwork back,” I whisper as I lead him to his parked car in the loading bay.

“I told you I was going to handle it.”

“It’s okay. I pretended it was delivered to my apartment. They don’t even know it’s the stolen art yet.”

He puts his face into his two hands. “Emerson.” He sighs.

I glare at him. “My name is Emmaline and don’t dare tell me you are handling it. I will not have you in

prison.”

He gets into the car and slams the door and I bang on the window and he opens it. “What?” He snaps,

furious.

“Book the castle for the wedding,” I tell him.

“You will probably be in fucking prison,” he grumbles.

“Shut up and do it,” I snap.

He shakes his head angrily as the window winds up and pulls out into the traffic. I calm my pulsing

heart and walk into the coffee shop to get a quadruple shot of anything.

As I wait for my coffee I ring Brielle.

“Hi, babe,” she answers happily.

“Can we meet for dinner tonight?” I ask.

“Sure, where do you want to go?”

“Italian. Our favourite?” I ask hopefully. “About eight.”

“Cool. I will pick you up.”