A Private Affair - A.C. Arthur Page 0,43

man really was an idiot, continued, “I’m not finished.”

Chaz leveled his gaze at him and spoke with as much control as he could muster. “Yes. You’re definitely finished for tonight.”

Lenzo’s shocked expression didn’t faze Chaz as he turned and walked out. In the car on his way back to his apartment Chaz called Tobias to explain what happened and suggest a course of action to deal with Lenzo’s blatant disrespect for not only him, as an executive of the company, but also for the plan approved by Tobias, the CEO. His uncle agreed. On a heavy sigh Chaz admitted he was tired and needed to unwind. He was grateful for tonight’s engagement, and with that thought checked his text messages again. The one he’d been waiting for had finally come.

Be there at 8.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

RILEY SAT IN the backseat of the car and read the card one more time.

208 Lenholake Avenue, 7:00 p.m.

She had no idea where this was or what she would find when she arrived. All she knew was that after her father left her office this afternoon she’d sat at her desk staring at the flowers and wondering if they could be from a vendor or a cruel joke from Walt. Finally, she decided it was ridiculous to keep trying to figure it out when the flowers had come with a card. She’d pulled the card out of her pocket and read it, the cryptic nature surprising and irritating her. But just when Riley was going to chuck the card and the flowers into the trash she looked at the arrangement one more time.

That was when she saw it.

The vase was made of rose quartz. Faint white lines mixed with the pale pink of the urn-shaped container. The vibrant colors of the tropical flowers—deep orange, purple and fuchsia—along with the dramatic greenery had completely captured her attention from the moment Korey brought them into her office. Riley hadn’t paid any attention to the container, and as she’d reached across her desk to touch her fingertips to its cool, smooth surface, she’d smiled.

And immediately left her office to go home.

Chaz hadn’t texted her all afternoon, so when she’d come out of the shower, she sent him a simple message: Be there at 8.

The car pulled up in front of what looked like a regular building around the corner from New York’s acclaimed Fifth Avenue. Riley stepped out when the driver opened the back door. She grabbed the lapels of her peach coat closer as a chilly breeze blew and she stepped onto the crimson-carpeted section of the sidewalk. A green awning covered the walkway and displayed the building’s address in stark white numbers.

Riley was still unsure of what she was walking into. The address attached to a lovely flower arrangement in no way expressed what tonight was about. She’d dressed according to her mood and with comfort in mind—black-and-white leopard-print wrap skirt with a peach-colored blouse and knee-length black suede boots. Her hair was pulled back in a stylishly messy knot and she carried a peach-colored leather bag she’d picked up when she first arrived in Milan.

“Good evening. May I take your coat?”

The older man had approached quietly. Dressed in an excellently cut black tuxedo complete with stark white shirt and bow tie, he looked every bit the stately butler. That was when Riley really surveyed her surroundings. The foyer was bright, with cream-colored walls, intricate molding and an immaculate marble floor. To her left was a double-height windowed gallery and a sweeping staircase.

“Madam?”

“Oh. I apologize,” Riley said when the butler had stepped closer, his hand extended for her coat. She removed the coat and handed it to him.

“I believe I’m supposed to meet someone here. His name is—”

The butler had taken her coat and folded it neatly over his right arm. With his left he held up a finger, which had Riley snapping her lips shut.

“Right through there, madam. You will find everything that you are in search of.”

He walked away as quietly as he’d come, but Riley watched him until he disappeared through a side door the same color as the walls. What was this place?

She walked in the direction she was told, choosing one of the two doorways that were separated by a remarkable antique grandfather clock. The room she entered was even more astonishing. The walls were a bold celadon with butter-colored floral-print wallpaper beneath the chair rail. That was just the beginning of what she thought might be eighteenth-century Parisian decor, which was definitely