At some point, Alfred had leaned in without her noticing. His chiseled features suddenly close, his eyes reflecting nothing but Celeste’s own image.
A moment later, she felt his hand–strong, insistent–tilt her chin upward.
His fingers, long and defined, compelled her to meet his gaze.
She found herself looking up. Their eyes locked.
Alfred spoke, his lips barely moving.
“But now, you’re Mrs. Hopkins. It’s time to put the past behind you, don’t you think? Those old cards–you should take care of them, Mrs. Hopkins. All right?”
His voice, deep as a cello, was unexpectedly gentle, not the least bit angry.
Celeste’s lashes fluttered. She felt his hand fall away from her chin.
She picked up the card again.
So many sweet memories, now nothing but pain.
She heard herself say, “You don’t need to tell me. I’ll handle it.”
He nodded, his expression calm, hiding whatever storm might have passed through his eyes.
Of course. She still hadn’t forgotten that man.
Before long, the car slowed to a stop outside Riverside Manor.
The villa was understated but elegant, with a terrace that overlooked the river, and lush green hills on either side–a truly picturesque setting.
Waiting outside were a dozen large cardboard boxes.
It was the porcelain she’d had packed up and shipped over–her mother’s collection. The house staff stepped forward, eager to help.
Celeste shook her head. “I’ll handle it myself.”
She’d already lost two pieces to Philip’s carelessness. With what little remained, she wasn’t about to risk another accident.
Porcelain was fragile, and she didn’t trust anyone else to handle it.
1/3
15:11
She pulled out her phone, about to call a professional moving service.
whether anyone would be willing to take a job all the way out here on such sho: notice. The temperature swings In the hills could crack the porcelain if she waited too long.
Beside her, Alfred had already shrugged off his jacket, now in a crisp white shirt with his sleeves rolled up.
“Free labor right here. Mrs. Hopkins, aren’t you going to make use of it?”
He could joke?
Celeste glanced at his strong forearms and pressed her lips together.
“Sure. Looks like a lot, but it’s mostly small things.”
She quickly set to work, unpacking the boxes herself.
Layer after layer of tissue and protective wrapping came out.
Without a word, Alfred took over, waving off the cluster of house staff and carrying each item into the designated room.
He was careful, steadying each piece with his fingers until it rested securely on the floor.
He probably had no idea what these things were, but he could tell they mattered to
her.
From the doorway, Celeste watched him. She couldn’t help the softness in her gaze. Maybe Alfred wasn’t as cold as everyone said.
Once everything was in place, Celeste found herself thinking that if he could handle a marriage with such patience, surely he could handle business talks too.
Eager to get her footing back in Duncan Group, she mustered her courage and asked, “Would you like to sit down for a bit? Maybe we could discuss the Rivercrest Bay project?”
She’d already asked the staff to prepare some snacks and coffee.
But Alfred’s face turned cold.
First she’d made him do manual labor, and now she was bringing up Duncan family business. Clearly, there wasn’t a shred of personal feeling toward him.
The air around them felt suddenly chilly.
2/3
15:11
Celeste hesitated mid motion.
First she’d get ground rules, how she was jumping straight to diners. It was a little heartless
She didn’t care for Mr. Alfred, but he’d shown her respect, and she didn’t want to offend him.
“We can talk about the project later, if you’d prefer
“Go on.”
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