"Oui." Jean-Luc flipped on the lights.
Bethany gasped. "It's so big!"
Fidelia nodded. "Gigante."
"Yes, it is." Heather surveyed the huge room. There was no sign of the battle from Friday night. The shattered mannequin had been cleared away.
Jean-Luc pointed at a spiral staircase in the far left corner. "That leads to the catwalk over the showroom. It would be a shortcut to your bedroom upstairs."
"I see. Can we go there now? Bethany's really tired."
He hesitated, then cocked his head, frowning. "It'll be ready soon. Come, you should know where the kitchen is."
Heather followed him back into the hallway and noticed a door at the far end of the hall. "Is that an exit?"
He glanced at the door. "It leads to the cellar. You will have no business there." He strode quickly in the opposite direction, back to the showroom. "We'll be closing the store to the public. It'll be safer that way."
They followed him into the showroom.
Fidelia paused to look at a glass case filled with purses made with Jean-Luc's signature fleur-de-lis fabric. "I could use a bigger purse for all my pistols."
"You may have whichever one you like," Jean-Luc offered as he continued toward the hall on the left.
Heather gave Fidelia a disapproving frown, but the babysitter just grinned back.
"Can I have a purse, too?" Bethany asked.
"No!" Heather grimaced at the thought of a four-year-old carrying an eight-hundred-dollar purse.
As they entered the hallway that bisected the left side of the house, Jean-Luc motioned to the first door. "This is the security office. If you need help, you should go there."
"Got it." Heather noticed the keypad next to the door.
"Storerooms." Jean-Luc gestured to the left. "Alberto's office." He stopped at a door on the right. "This is the kitchen. You may use it as much as you like." He opened the door and stepped aside to let them enter.
It was more than a kitchen. It had a small dining area and a sitting area, complete with a comfy couch, recliners, and a television. It opened onto a utility room with washer and dryer. Heather wandered into the kitchen and admired the pristine appliances, all sparkly new. The cabinets were filled with beautiful glassware and stoneware.
"I love the Tuscan-style dishes," she said. "I was thinking about buying some at the discount store. Where did you get yours?"
His mouth quirked. "Tuscany."
"Oh, right." Her cheeks warmed. The rich lived in another world.
The stainless steel fridge contained nothing but a few crab cakes and cheese puffs, along with three unopened bottles of champagne - leftovers, no doubt, from the party Friday night. The pantry was completely bare.
She shut the pantry door. "What do y'all eat around here?"
Jean-Luc winced. "I forgot about that. I'll have the guards take care of it."
How could you forget about food? Heather noticed her daughter slumped on the couch, about to fall asleep on the yellow bear. "We really need to go to our room."
He tilted his head as if listening to something. "It's ready now."
"Okay." She exchanged a questioning look with Fidelia.
The psychic shook her head slightly. Either she didn't know or she didn't want to talk about it now.
Heather helped her daughter to her feet. "Let's go, sweetie. We're almost there."
As they exited the kitchen, Heather noticed Alberto emerging from a room at the far end of the hall. He stumbled into the hallway, his hand clasped to his neck. In his other arm, he carried two evening gowns.
He looked back at the open door. "I'll fix them just like you wanted."
"See that you do," Simone's voice hissed just before the door slammed shut.
Alberto rushed down the hall. He slowed when he saw them.
Jean-Luc clenched his cane so tight, his knuckles showed white. "Is there a problem?"
Heather glanced at him, surprised by the angry tone of his voice.
Alberto blushed. "They are hard to please."
"Indeed." Jean-Luc glared at him. "A wise man would not make the attempt."
Alberto's gaze lowered. "I know you're right. But they're just so...beautiful." He rubbed at his neck.
Heather narrowed her eyes. Was that a bloodstain on his fingers?
"Excuse me." Alberto dashed to the door that led to his personal office and let himself in.
"This way." Jean-Luc gestured for them to follow.
Heather exchanged another look with Fidelia.
He came to a stop. "These are the backstairs."
Sure enough, there was a narrow set of stairs going up to the second floor.
Heather glanced at the end of the hall and the door Alberto had stumbled through. Another keypad. "Is that the bedroom where the models are staying?"
Jean-Luc glanced at the door, frowning. "It leads to the cellar. You will have no business there." He started up the stairs.
Heather slanted one last look at the forbidden door before following Jean-Luc up the stairs. The ascent was slow since Bethany climbed one step at a time and insisted on carrying the big yellow bear. Heather's mind wandered back to the cellar door. Why was it kept locked? And what about the second door to the cellar, the one at the other end of the hall? Was it locked, too?
What was down there? Monsters? Simone and Inga certainly fit that bill. With a snort, Heather chided herself for having a crazy imagination. It was more likely to be something business-related, like an illegal immigrant sweatshop. She reached the top of the stairs.
"This is my office." Jean-Luc indicated a door with another keypad. "I'll show it to you later."
"All right." She spotted an overhead surveillance camera.
Just then a door down the hall opened, and two men emerged. Or a man and a boy, Heather thought, upon a closer look. She recalled seeing them before with Angus MacKay.
The teenager in a kilt smiled. "Yer room is ready, Mrs. Westfield."
"Thank you. Please call me Heather."
"Verra well. I'm Ian, and this is Phineas."
"What's shakin'?" The black man was wearing the uniform of khaki pants and navy polo shirt.
"We'll be going now." Ian motioned for Phineas to follow. "See ye tomorrow night."
"Good night." She noticed the sword strapped to Ian's back as he passed by. They clambered down the stairs. How odd that the one who looked fifteen acted like he had seniority. "Isn't he a bit young to be a guard?"
"He's older than he looks." Jean-Luc opened the door that Ian and Phineas had just exited. "This is your room."
Bethany ran inside and squealed.
"What?" Heather rushed inside and halted, stunned.
Fidelia ran inside and bumped into her. "Ay, caramba," she whispered, looking around the room.
"My toys!" Bethany dropped the yellow bear on the floor and knelt in front of her dollhouse.
Heather blinked, speechless. Parked next to the dollhouse was Bethany's doll carriage.
She noticed her makeup case on the dresser. "How did you do this? There was a deputy guarding the door."
"My guards are excellent," Jean-Luc said.
They had to be good if they'd managed to sneak all this stuff out of the house.
Fidelia dropped her purse on one of the queen-sized beds and sat. "How did they do it?"
"It is done." He looked worried. "I thought it would make you happy."
"I'm happy!" Bethany announced.
I'm suspicious. Heather looked slowly around the room. The walls were painted a soft green. The two beds were covered with blue damask comforters. A beautiful stained glass lamp rested on a bedside table between the two beds. There was no mirror above the dresser, but a lovely painting by Monet. Against the wall rested the bags of stuff they'd bought at the discount store.
"Heather?" Jean-Luc approached her. "Will this be all right?"
"Yes." She avoided eye contact. "Thank you." He'd obviously tried to make her happy, but the opposite had happened. She didn't know what to think.
"I'll be in my office down the hall for the next hour or so if you need me. Robby will be here soon with your truck."
"Okay." That seemed odd to Heather. Hadn't they used her truck to bring Bethany's toys here?
"I noticed a few boarded-up buildings in town," Jean-Luc continued.
"Yeah, the discount store made them go out of business."
"Robby and I will check them later tonight."
"You mean...?" They thought Louie might be hiding in one of them? "Do you want me to come with you?"
"No," he answered quickly. "You've been through enough tonight. Your daughter, too."
That much was true. Heather didn't think she could handle any more excitement right now. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow evening, yes. Phil and Pierre will watch over you during the day."
And where will you be? She met his eyes. There was still too much mystery surrounding him.
"Good night, chérie." He took her hand and raised it to his mouth. His lips were soft, sensuous.
Heather's face flooded with heat when delicious memories swept over her. His kiss had been glorious. She'd felt so safe and wonderful in his arms. She wished that feeling could come back, but it was gone. Instead she suffered from a nagging sensation that something was seriously wrong.
"Sleep well." He left the room, closing the door behind him.
"Juan is very romantic," Fidelia observed. "Muy macho."
"Muy something," Heather muttered. "Let's get Bethany to bed." And then we can talk. The words dangled at the end of the sentence, unsaid.
Thirty minutes later, Bethany was sound asleep in the bed she would share with her mom. Fidelia and Heather took turns washing up.
Heather exited the bathroom and waved a hand toward the dollhouse. "How do you think they managed this?"
"I don't know." Fidelia fluffed the pillows up against the headboard of her bed, then slipped beneath the comforter. "They must have sneaked past the deputy."
Heather rested a hand on one hip. "I don't think Billy and his deputies could be that incompetent."
Fidelia chuckled. "You never know. At least we have the smart ones on our side."
"Smart or just...sneaky? There's something very odd going on around here."
Fidelia nodded. "Juan seemed to be listening to someone. He may be psychic."
"I got that impression, too." Heather perched on the end of Fidelia's bed. "Could you hear anything?"
"No, but I'm sensing strange...energy. Maybe I'll dream something tonight that'll help."
Heather nodded. She wasn't quite ready to voice her earlier suspicion that Jean-Luc could be immortal. It still seemed too bizarre.
"This is the only bedroom upstairs," Fidelia continued. "And Juan said there are none on the first floor."
"That seemed strange to me, too," Heather conceded.
"Where are all the people in this house sleeping?" Fidelia asked.
Heather winced, remembering the locked cellar doors. "I guess they're in the cellar."
"That's strange," Fidelia muttered. "And what was that with Alberto? I think those bitches scratched him. Or cut him. There was blood on his fingers."
"I saw that. And Jean-Luc kept telling us to stay away from the cellar. Of course, that could be a good warning with those psycho women living down there."
Fidelia made a clucking noise. "Why were you late to hear Bethany sing? That is not like you."
A blush warmed Heather's cheeks. "I was...distracted."
"By Juan? Did he make a pass at you?"
Her blush grew hotter. "I was willing. Far too willing. I...I thought I was falling for him."
"And now?"
"I don't know. I'm attracted to him. He's gorgeous and sexy - "
"And rich."
Heather gave her an annoyed look. "That's not what matters to me. Cody had plenty of money, and it sure didn't make me happy."
"Then what do you like about Juan?"
"I think he's an honorable, intelligent, kind man. It was very sweet the way he got that bear for Bethany. And he likes me the way I am. He treats me with respect. He actually listens to me and cares about my feelings."
Fidelia nodded. "He is a good man. I am fairly certain of that."
"Fairly certain?"
Fidelia shrugged. "Appearances can be deceiving. I sense something...wrong."
Heather snorted. "You don't have to be psychic to know that. There are secrets in this place. Secrets that Jean-Luc wants to hide from me."
"I agree."
"Then how can I trust him?"
Fidelia lounged back against her pillows, frowning. "You must be very careful."
Heather's eyes burned as unwanted tears threatened. She'd so wanted to believe in Jean-Luc. He'd seemed so perfect. But she had no choice. She needed to keep a distance between them. She couldn't let herself fall for Jean-Luc Echarpe.
Chapter 14
Jean-Luc paced in his office. He'd made a stupid mistake. He'd thought the sight of her daughter's toys would cheer her up. It had certainly cheered up Bethany. But Heather - he'd only succeeded in making her suspicious. She was clever. He couldn't underestimate her again. And she was fiercely independent, not as easily impressed by gifts or grand gestures as women he'd known in the past. She didn't seem to need gifts at all. She needed honesty - the one thing he didn't dare give.
