All Is Bright - K. Sterling Page 0,9

pouted.

“I guess that redemption’s going to have to wait.”

Chapter 5

“You did an excellent job, Matteo,” Cyril said and Alon nodded in agreement.

“Really?” The younger man laughed in relief.

“I told you,” Farris said from his seat on the sofa’s armrest. Cyril hummed as he tapped the ash off his cigar. He rarely smoked in the afternoon unless he was turning over a difficult problem and his house was now full of them.

“Tell us everything you can remember about him,” Cyril requested and Alon had his tiny notebook ready. Matteo nodded quickly and his cheeks puffed.

“I can do that.” He shut his eyes as he took a moment and Cyril was impressed. Farris chose his assistant well and was training him to pay close attention to detail. “He was tall and built. Tight polo and really tight around the sleeves.” His lips curved as he mentally appreciated other features so Farris gave him a firm nudge. “Right. Tight jeans and nice thighs. He was Puerto Rican and had a dimple in his left cheek and he was wearing thick framed glasses. He had an accent, like he’s from New York, and really big brown eyes with thick lashes. I was going to take his name and be the stay-at-home dad,” he added with a heavy sigh and Farris snorted.

“I’ve got better plans for you,” he said and Cyril nodded.

“Let’s get a few digs and papers on your resume before you start filling the nursery,” he agreed distantly. “Did you notice anything else?”

“No. I was kind of distracted until he mentioned the mansion and then I took off,” Matteo admitted apologetically but Cyril held up a hand.

“You reacted appropriately. I’d like you to stay here until this blows over, if possible and I’d like to assign a detail to follow you when you leave Blackhurst,” he said so he’d understand that it wasn’t a request.

“Sure...” Matteo looked to Farris for reassurance and he winked back at him.

“You can crash in my old suite. It’s huge,” he said and Matteo’s eyes lit up.

“That’ll work. I’ll see if I can get my professors to allow me to attend classes from here,” he mused and Cyril looked to Alon.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said and Cyril smiled at Matteo as he stood.

“I think that’ll be all, unless you can think of anything else we should know.”

“No!” Matteo said.

“You can go, then. Thank you, Matteo. A word, professor,” Cyril said then gestured for Alon to leave them as he went to Farris. He watched until Matteo and Alon were gone and they were alone so he could tip Farris’s chin back and kiss him. “Thank you for being so graceful about the vault.”

“I wasn’t but it’s nice of you to pretend,” Farris chuckled as he kissed him back. “I won’t be responsible for late work or anything that’s damaged and you’re paying for whatever they break. So, it’s no skin off my ass at the end of the day. I’m not going to be able to focus but I plan to take all of that out on you,” he stated cheerfully then smoothed Cyril’s tie before he jumped to his feet. “Good luck with whichever nemesis you’re plotting against. I’ve got a Caravaggio to restore and a Guan mallet vase is being delivered this evening.”

“I wish I could hover and watch you work but I think someone’s trying to kill me,” Cyril murmured to himself as Farris left.

“They might be trying to steal something from you,” Alon offered but it didn’t comfort Cyril.

“Over my dead body, so it’s really just the same,” he argued. Cyril didn’t surrender his possessions, once something was his. He hoarded treasures like a dragon and only sold or gifted his possessions when it pleased him. He spent his entire life building Blackhurst into a fortress and his own Shangri-La. “What do you think?”

“Military or former military. Probably Special Forces or former. They’ve always been weak at recruiting collectors,” Alon replied.

“Always more of a hammer than a scalpel,” Cyril murmured as he went back to his desk and his cigar. “Let me know if anything turns up in the school’s security footage.”

“Very good, sir.” Alon left and Cyril turned his chair so he could watch the snow falling. It would cover the lawn in a blanket of pure white and he’d be reassured every time he looked out the window by the lack of footprints. He couldn’t have his guests out there, trampling and turning the lawn to mud. He’d never see