Chapter 17

"Mr. Lexington, it's nice to see you."

I nodded in response to the middle-aged man's greeting. I was used to being recognized whenever I entered any boutique or jewelery store. He summoned a young saleslady and had her lead me to a lounge, which is the last thing I wanted to do.

"Is there anything specific you would like to buy, Mr. Lexington?" She purred, standing too much in my personal space. She was seconds away from pushing her chest up at me.

"Let me think. What do you have?"

She rushed away before I could give her my requirements, returning with what I assumed must be the most expensive diamond necklace in the store. When she caught my frown, she cowered away.

"I want something less flashy. Something a simple woman would want to wear on a daily basis."

She nodded. "Okay. Please give me a second."

When she returned, she was leading several other girls with a selection of different types of small necklaces. I ran my eyes over them and settled on the clearest diamond among them all. The silver necklace looked like the best quality silver and overall, it must be one of the most valuable necklaces just by glancing at it.

I took the jewelry box from the salesgirl carrying it and returned to the counter. Dismissing the girls, I lowered my voice. "I want a counterfeit."

He was tongue-tied for a few seconds before he finally found his voice and shook his head. "We do not do that kind of business."

I rolled my eyes. If I didn't know about the counterfeits they often sold to unsuspecting first-time customers, I would not be here. They would usually skirt around the occasional law suits by reminding the poor buyers that they did not claim to sell them authentic gems.

I placed the necklace on the counter. "I want it to cost no more than ten dollars."

He was even more confused. "You're not working for the cops, are you?"

I dug into my wallet and placed several hundred-dollar bills on the counter. He snuck a glance at the surveillance camera and took the bills. "I'll take care of that. Give me a moment."

He disappeared into the back of the store and returned ten minutes later. "It's going to take a while. Do you mind looking around while you wait?"

"How long?" I glanced at my watch. I had a meeting to get to.

"There's a high demand for custom necklaces seeing as New Year's is in two days. Usually it takes three weeks."

"I don't have three weeks." I gritted my teeth.

He leaned over the counter slightly. "It can take an hour if we grab the lowest quality chain off the street."

"Do that." I didn't need him to explain, but I understood his confusion. When I ended up buying the real necklace along with the counterfeit with a piece of glass in place of the diamond, he was even more shocked. What was most shocking, however, was the fact that the two looked identical. At first glance, I nearly couldn't tell them apart. If I were an investigator, I would have irrefutable evidence but that was not why I was here.

"Sir, may I ask why you want both the real and the fake? I hope you are not doing any funny business with us as your source." He asked cautiously.

"Don't worry. Just a prank."

It was not entirely a lie. Bella Clair might mistake glass for a gem but Isabella Cartier, the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Hustace and the granddaughter of the former mayor of Hustace, had owned enough diamond jewelry to be able to tell a real one from a counterfeit at first glance. Why was I doing this instead of pressing a gun to her temple and making her spill the truth? I had no idea.

The thought of having a Cartier under my roof and within my grasp should I decide to end her life was thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

Why the hell would a billionaire's daughter want to babysit for a living?

"If she was the billionaire's daughter, that is." I reminded myself. So far, Bella had proved to be as different as heaven and earth from that spoiled princess I encountered a decade ago. Her name might not even be short for Isabella.

I was about to find out. I had asked her to have a drink with me tonight and with every mile I drove home, I hoped I was wrong about her. I hoped all these were merely coincidences and my Bella was simply a woman who happened to look a lot like a Cartier.

…

A small body collided into me as soon as I walked in.

"Daddy!" Aurora yelled excitedly as she wrapped her tiny arms around my legs. I picked her up and kissed her cheek.

"Hi, beautiful." It was a relief to come home to an enthusiastic greeting instead of a screaming Aurora and a resignation letter. I looked over at Bella, who looked as happy to see me as my daughter was. Did she miss me?

"Mr. Lexington…"

"Tristan." I corrected her.

"What?"

"You can call me Tristan."

I saw the confusion on her eyes as it played out. It was as if she remembered something, but she couldn't quite place it. Or maybe, I was exaggerating it. How could anyone remember a statement they heard ten years ago? If she was Isabella Cartier, she didn't remember our families had a feud, or she wouldn't be here.

"Tristan, dinner is ready." She finally said my name, and I felt it down my pants. Damn. She should say that more often. On second thought, she should never say my name again—I would do something stupid.

She disappeared to the kitchen as I went upstairs to wash up and returned just as she finished setting the table. Aurora was already sitting in her chair, her little legs dangling as she waited for Bella to plate her food. As soon as her plate was before her, Aurora grabbed a drumstick and dug right in. I watched with a smile as she put my food before me, and grabbed her hand before she could leave.

"Dine with us." I demanded.

"No way. I'm…"

"Aurora's friend." I interrupted.

She swallowed a lump. "I'll grab another set of cutlery."

"You can eat from my plate." Before she could come up with another excuse, I added, "Unless there is a reason why you would rather not."

Her eyes squinted as she caught my meaning. She finally settled down and picked up my fork with a shrug, yet another reason for me to drop my suspicions. I had already known she would never hurt my daughter for any reason but if anything was wrong with the food, she would not eat it.

_____

When we were done, we watched one of Aurora's favorite movies and put her to bed, then she finally joined me in my cellar for a drink.

Before I had the chance to speak, she grilled me with a question right off the bat. "Why do you call your daughter Aurora?"

I frowned. "Because that's her name. Aurora Lexington."

"I know. But everyone calls her Rory. You have never called her that. Is there a reason?"