Royal Tease by Nana Malone

Author:Nana Malone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sankofa Girl

19

Jessa…

Where the hell had Roone been half the day? There'd been a ruckus at the office earlier. Some VIP client, and most of us had been forced to stay in our offices until the client had come and gone. We had work to do on the gala, but he was nowhere to be found. According to him, Rick had needed him.

Yeah but for what? I had been Evan’s protégé. Was Rick taking him under his wing? If so, did I really have to worry?

I was too tired to think about it. Being stuck in my office half the day had hampered my movements, and I’d had to get creative about how I worked. I wanted to know who the hell had come in. Chloe was convinced it had been Prince Harry. Never mind that I reminded her that the palace had their own internal publicity engine going.

I needed a hot bath and wine. Copious amounts of wine, not necessarily in that order.

I checked with the other senior account managers but none of them had been called in for the client. So maybe it was just a meeting for the Evans?

But where had Roone been at the time of the meeting? Damn it. Enough Roone. I wasn’t going to worry about him right now, because I was going to have my wine and my hot bath. I might even combine the two.

Glass of wine in hand, I sank into the couch. My gaze landed on my bookshelf. Maybe I could use some more photos. If I was serious about staying, then a few sentimental things wouldn’t kill me, right?

I frowned staring at the bookshelf. Something was missing. What the fuck was it? I had my books, the one picture frame, a couple of framed prints. The binder.

I sat up abruptly, nearly spilling my wine.

When the police had been here, I’d done a cursory look. I didn’t have too much that was valuable. Whoever had broken in had made a hell of a mess. I’d assumed that they were looking for something valuable.

Maybe the clean-up crew had moved it? What the hell?

My inner voice screamed. Had someone been looking for my father’s sketches? But why? They weren’t worth anything. They were personal. But even as I let my imagination run wild, my more rational side slapped it down. That makes no sense.

Except someone had broken into my home and taken nothing except the rose pendent. And the only thing I’d been able to notice that was missing was a folder of my father’s sketches.

I grabbed my laptop and then opened the file of sketches. What was here that somebody would want?

Just Lulu and my mother. The images of the men with tattoos. But who were they?

I glanced at the tattoos again. I’d had a client, Jillian Brightcomb. She’d launched a lipstick line. She’d also been a tattoo connoisseur.

Pulling out my phone I sent her a text.

Jessa: Hey Jillian, do you know if tattoo artists keep a database of designs and who has done them? I’m trying to track something down.

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