“Right this way. We’ve been talking about this day since we ordered it six months ago.”
Trent motioned for his movers to follow him into the mansion. The four men kept quiet behind him as they walked into the large marble-floored entrance with a modern light fixture hanging down from the three-story high entrance hall. Skye’s house didn’t quite feel like a home. It was more of a showpiece. At least this entrance was.
“Skye loves architecture and design. She helped create every room in the house.”
“She’d get along great with my cousin Ridge. He’s an architect and builder. In fact, the way she uses original historic pieces mixed with modern touches is very much his style.”
Karri nodded. “Oh yes. After she looked you up, she found several references to Ridge and just loves his work.”
Trent was surprised at that. Skye had taken the time to look into him and his family just because she liked some of his work? That was more hands-on than he thought she’d be.
“I reached out to you first, but after you agreed to build the set, Skye researched everything. I might have sent the email, but ideas were all hers.”
They turned down a hall that was lined on one side with nothing but old Spanish-styled glass doors that were all propped open to let in the warm California breeze. “This is the private wing of the house. The first room we come to is the dining room. It’ll be the only room in the private wing to be photographed next week for Skye’s article in the same architectural magazine that you were featured in,” Karri explained.
“Private wing?” Trent asked as the hallway ended and the private wing began to sprawl outward.
Karri stopped at the arched opening to a large and mostly empty room. However, the far wall was the only decoration needed. It was a view of the Los Angeles cityscape off in the distance. The floor-to-ceiling glass doors could be opened to let in the breeze or to make a party flow effortlessly between indoors and outdoors.
“Yes. Skye has the main wing decorated for parties, media interviews, and at-home shoots for magazines. However, she doesn’t live there. She lives here in the private wing. It’s just the two of us here. And I’m in the pool house, so it’s not like she needs the space,” Karri laughed as if it was a big joke. “Sorry, if you knew where we met you’d get it. Anyway, this is the private wing and where she actually lives.”
Trent stepped into the room and looked around. By all accounts the room appeared to be self-contained and only open to the hallway. The right wall was filled with a glassed-in wine rack that went from the floor to the top of the eighteen-foot ceiling. To the left was where he’d put the large credenza he’d built.
“Where does this door go?” he asked about the door built to look like part of the wall to the left.
“To the kitchens.”
“Multiple kitchens?” Trent asked, not really expecting an answer but more just wondering why.
“Yes, one is personal and one is for catering.”
“Of course,” Trent said. Anyone who had a public and private wing would have both public and private kitchens.
Trent walked into the center of the room and made a slow circle of the space. He took in the glass doors, the direction they faced, the walls, the electrical outlets, the lighting, and even the floor patterns.
“Is there going to be a rug?”
“Yes.” The voice he heard wasn’t Karri’s. It was smooth and sexy and with that one word Trent knew when he looked up he’d find Skye Jessamine.
Trent thought he’d be prepared to meet a celebrity. After all, he knew many rich and powerful people. His cousin Ryker didn’t talk about it but probably had more money than even the A-List actress could ever dream of. When he raised his eyes, though, he wasn’t ready for the woman in pink athletic shorts and a white tank top. Her famous luxurious hair was in the same kind of sloppy bun his female cousins favored. There wasn’t a bit of makeup on her and she was barefoot. She was breathtakingly beautiful in her natural look.
Karri moved to stand next to her and was just an inch or so taller than the actress. However, they had the same build. Both appeared to be athletes with curves that could kill and kind smiles.
“Trent Faulkner, I presume. I’m Skye,” she said, holding out