Page 80 of Bargaining

“I’m hanging up.”

“Wait. I need information. An old art teacher of Charlotte’s. It was a long time ago, but I’m going to send you the details, and you’re going to dig up dirt.”

Theo sighed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Morning.” Charlotte tightened her dressing gown and stepped out onto the balcony. Her eyes fell on the food laid out. “What’s all this? It looks amazing.”

“Await further instructions and then get the fuck on with it,” I said into the phone and hung up.

Charlotte gave me a disapproving look. “You’re so charming on your work calls. I’m glad you don’t talk to me like that, or we’d have a big problem.”

I pocketed my phone. “I don’t need to talk to you like that. It’s not my fault I’m surrounded by incompetence.”

She laughed. “You’re the boss from hell. You know you catch more flies with honey?”

“Why would I catch them when I can swat them?” I grabbed a couple of cups. “Coffee?”

“Please.” She grabbed a pastry and dropped to sit in the chair next to me. “Back to the grindstone today? I suppose someone’s got to do it. Your employees aren’t going to shout at themselves, are they?”

Church bells rang in the distance. Charlotte put her bare legs up onto a chair and crossed her feet at the ankles. The sun gilded her chestnut hair. I tried to drag my gaze away from her. I had work to do, but fuck it. Yesterday had been the best day I could remember. I wanted more, and I’d arranged a treat for her. I had to be there to see her face.

“No work, but I’m not letting you hijack my tour this time.”

Her eyebrows shot up as she buttered a piece of toast. “You’re coming out with me again?” Her face lit. “Good for you. All work and no play makes Mr. Ackroyd a dull boy. What are we doing?”

I dragged my gaze from her lips and sipped my espresso. “Patience, Mrs. Ackroyd. It’s a surprise. You’ll have to wait and see.”

I knocked on the door of the address my PA had messaged. A slim woman with dramatic streaks of white in her black hair opened the door. She wore an apron covered in clay stains.

“Signor Ackroyd? I’m Rosa.” She inclined her head and flashed a polite smile. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Charlotte flashed me a confused look. Rosa led us into a bright art studio. Light poured in through tall windows, illuminating a row of potters’ wheels. The musty scent of clay clung to everything. The mess made my skin crawl. Cool air hit my face, and it was a welcome relief after the sweltering heat outside.

Charlotte surveyed the studio and a smile touched her lips. “Pottery?” Charlotte took the apron that Rosa handed to her. “Please tell me you’re doing it too?”

Rosa offered me an apron, but I waved it away. “It’s not about me.”

Charlotte took the apron and pulled it down over my head. “No way, signore. You’re not getting out of it. If we’re here, we’re both doing it. I want to see you getting your hands dirty.”

“I booked this for you.”

Her eyes glinted with chiding. “I’m not doing it on my own. Don’t be boring.”

“I’m thirty years old, Charlotte. You can’t peer-pressure me into doing pottery.”

She laughed. “Then I’ll guilt-trip you. I don’t want to do it on my own. Just try something different. It’ll be fun, and it will make me happy.”

I sighed. Fine. It wasn’t my preference, but if it made her happy. There probably wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for that. I held my arms up and let her tie the apron around my middle.

“You’ve shaped on a wheel before?” Rosa asked.

Charlotte nodded and took a deep inhale. “That smell. I’ve missed it.”

The room reeked of wet dirt, but from the look on Charlotte’s face, you’d think she was smelling a bouquet. Charlotte’s gaze traveled over me, and she smothered a laugh.

“Something funny, Mrs. Ackroyd?”

“Just you in an apron. I never thought I’d see the day.”