rrassment burning my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. How unprofessional of me:
Butler Winslow’s eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “Not at all, Miss. In fact, Mr. Sterling himself saw you when the car arrived. He instructed us not to disturb you, as you appeared to be extremely fatigued. He said your rest was more important than punctuality”
My mouth fell open slightly. “Mr. Sterling saw me… sleeping in the car?” Could this get any more mortifying?
“Indeed. He mentioned you’ve been working very hard lately and deserved the rest. Butler Winslow gestured toward the grand entrance. “Mrs. Sterling is waiting in the east wing drawing room. She’s quite looking forward to finalizing the designs for her gown.”“
As we walked through the estate, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer opulence around me. Sterling Heights wasn’t just a mansion; it was practically a palace. Priceless artwork adorned walls that seemed to stretch forever, and the marble floors gleamed so perfectly I could almost see my reflection in them.
“This place is magnificent, I whispered, almost afraid to speak at normal volume.
“The Sterling family has resided here for five generations, Winslow explained with evident pride. “The east wing, where we’re heading, is Mrs. Sterling’s personal domain.
We finally reached a set of double doors, which Winslow opened with a flourish. Inside was a sunlit drawing room with floor–to–ceiling windows overlooking manicured gardens. And there, seated on an elegant chaise lounge, was Mrs. Sterling.
She rose as we entered, her posture perfect and her smile warm. “Miss Ashworth, welcome. I hope you found some much–needed rest during the drive”
I flushed again. “I apologize for that, Mrs. Sterling. It was completely unintentional.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense. We all need rest. Now, shall we discuss
s my gown?
<
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I’ve been eagerly anticipating our meeting”
Over tea and delicate pastries, we reviewed the designs I had prepared. Mrs. Sterling was everything I hadn’t expected–warm, gracious, and surprisingly down–to–earth despite her
obvious wealth.
“This detail here,” she said, pointing to an intricate beadwork pattern on my sketch, “reminds me of a gown I wore many years ago. Damien’s father couldn’t take his eyes off me that night.”
I smiled, feeling more at ease. “That’s exactly the reaction we want to recreate.”
Two hours flew by as we finalized every aspect of the gown. Working with Mrs. Sterling was at dream–she knew exactly what she wanted but trusted my expertise completely.
As we wrapped up, a knock came at the door. Butler Winslow appeared, looking slightly flustered–the first break in his perfect composure I’d seen.
“Madam, Mr. Sterling has returned unexpectedly. He wishes to know if you’ve concluded your business with Miss Ashworth.”
Mrs. Sterling’s eyes lit up. “Perfect timing. Send him in, Winslow.”
My heart skipped a beat. I hadn’t prepared to see Damien Sterling today. I quickly gathered my sketches, suddenly conscious of every hair on my head and wondering if my makeup still looked presentable after my impromptu nap.
The door opened, and there he was. Damien Sterling filled the doorway with his presence, impeccably dressed in what had to be a custom–tailored suit that highlighted his broad shoulders. His eyes found mine immediately.
“Miss Ashworth,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. “I hope my mother hasn’t been wearing you out with endless revisions.”
Mrs. Sterling laughed. “Quite the opposite. Miss Ashworth is brilliantly efficient.”
I stood, extending my hand. “Mr. Sterling, it’s good to see you again.”
His hand enveloped mine, warm and firm. “The pleasure is mine. I trust you’re feeling rested
now?”
The heat returned to my cheeks. “Yes, thank you for… understanding.”
“Will you be joining us for lunch, Miss Ashworth?” he asked, not releasing my hand immediately. “Our chef has prepared something special today”
The invitation was tempting–more time in this beautiful place, with these intriguing people- but reality intruded. “I’m afraid I have a prior commitment. I’m visiting my grandmother today.”
“Family first,” he said with a nod of approval. “Perhaps another time.”
As I prepared to leave, I was surprised when Damien Sterling himself offered to walk me to my
17 Chapter 19
car. Mrs. Sterling kissed my cheek goodbye, treating me more like a family friend than a business associate.
Outside, the sunlight caught in Damien’s dark hair as we walked down the steps toward the waiting car.
“I hope you’ll consider the lunch invitation another day,” he said, his stride matching mine perfectly despite his significantly longer legs.
“I’d like that,” I admitted, surprising myself with my honesty.
When we reached the car, he did something that left me momentarily speechless–he opened the door himself, waiting for me to get in. No summoning the driver or butler. Just a simple, gentlemanly gesture.
“Safe travels, Miss Ashworth,” he said as I slid into the seat.
Once I was settled, he gently closed the door himself and lifted his hand in a wave as the car pulled away. I found myself watching him in the side mirror until he disappeared from view.
The drive to my grandmother’s home gave me time to replay every moment at Sterling Heights. What was it about Damien Sterling that made my heart race? His wealth? His power? No, it was something else–a grace and kindness that seemed so rare in men of his position.
But my bubble of pleasant thoughts burst as soon as I arrived at my destination. Reality came crashing back. The auction was just around the corner, and I was still desperately short on
funds.
“Hazel, darling!” My grandmother’s frail arms enveloped me as I entered her modest apartment. Her health had improved slightly since my last visit, but she was still too thin, too fragile.
“How are you feeling today, Gran?” I asked, setting down my bag and the small box of pastries I’d brought.
“Better now that you’re here,” she said with her typical cheerfulness.
My aunt Emily joined us from the kitchen. “She’s had a good week, she confirmed with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. I knew what she wasn’t saying–good weeks were becoming
rare.
Over tea, I shared the news about securing the auction funds, watching my grandmother’s face light up with joy. The white lie felt necessary; I couldn’t bear to worry her.
Later, when Gran went to rest, Aunt Emily cornered me in the kitchen.
“You don’t have all the money yet, do you?” she asked quietly, always perceptive.
Isighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m still 70 million short. I’ve tried everything, Emily. Every contact, every favor.”
Emily
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Chapter 15
queezed my hand. “I can help with some of it. I have 20 million saved for retirement, but I’d rather see Amelia’s bracelet back in the family”
“I can’t take your retirement money I protested, though hope flickered inside me.
“You can and you will, she insisted. “We’re family. This matters to all of us”
With Emily’s contribution and a few more million I scraped together from friends and my company’s emergency fund, I was still 50 million short by the time I left my grandmother’s place. The auction was just days away, and I was running out of options.
Sitting in my car outside my apartment building, I stared at my phone, scrolling through contacts, desperately searching for anyone who might help. Then I stopped on a name I hadn’t called in years. A name that brought a bitter taste to my mouth.
Harrison Ashworth. My father.
The man who had betrayed my mother, favored his new and stolen my maternal grandparents‘ business. The man I’d sworn never to ask for anything.
My finger hovered over his name. Pride warred with desperation inside me. If I called him, what would it cost me? Not just financially, but emotionally? Yet if I didn’t, my mother’s precious
bracelet would be lost forever.
Taking a deep breath, I pressed the call button.
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