Page 47 of The B-Team

“Probably best we ask some questions before jumping to conclusions,” Beast drawled.

“I’m not jumping to any conclusions,” Ryan said. “I just walked up to this door, and there they were. Seriously though, this place has to be worth millions.”

Belinda cocked her head to the side, considering. “I’d say around three million. There’s no doorman, though, and the security isn’t as good as some of the purpose-built buildings. You are close to the palace, though.”

Ryan cocked an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged.

“We looked at apartments here before we bought on the Embankment. I enjoy having a view over the river and being close to the quirkier places to eat. Oh, and the Tate Modern. This area just feels a little more built up, and I value having space around me.”

“I live in a tiny, terraced house overlooked by a high-rise apartment block and share an attic with my neighbors. So, yeah, I can see why this might be a bit suffocating,” Ryan said.

“You share your attic with David and Elle,” Beast said. “And you only have yourself to blame for that.”

“I like your house,” Belinda said. “It’s cute and homey. Sarah has a real flair for decorating.”

“I know,” Ryan said proudly as Belinda rang the bell for the right apartment. “And we do have the best gaming room in London.”

“That’s ’cause you let a hacker build it for you,” Beast said. “How much of that equipment’s from the Benson Security office?”

“What are you? The tech police?” Ryan glared at him, and he just laughed.

“Yes?” a crisp voice said over the speaker. “Who is this?”

Belinda stepped into view of the camera, smiled, and waved. “Hi, Mrs. Fitzwater, I’m Belinda Collins. I’m here with my husband, John, and my friend Ryan. I wondered if I could have a few minutes of your time to talk about your ex-husband.”

There was silence.

Belinda cast an anxious glance at Beast. “Mrs. Fitzwater?” she said hesitantly. “Are you still there? I know this is aninconvenience, and it’s getting late, but it’s really important. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be bothering you.”

“You’re Belinda Collins?” The voice was awed. “The film star?”

“I prefer actress,” Belinda said kindly. Being a celebrity had never been her motivation. All she’d ever wanted was to be the best actor possible—and maybe win a few awards. Because who doesn’t like shiny stuff? “I’m just a working stiff like everyone else.”

“Yeah,” Ryan drawled. “Only, you get twenty million a movie.”

“Not helping,” Belinda hissed at him.

“Oh my,” the woman said. “I can’t believe it’s actually you. Yes, please, come up. This is wonderful.”

There was a buzzing sound before the door clicked open.

“Second floor,” she called. “Blue door.”

They entered the wide hallway and climbed stairs framed by carved wooden banisters. By the time they reached the second floor, the blue door was open, and a beaming woman stood in its frame. She was middle-aged, small but toned, with dyed blonde hair in a ponytail on top of her head. She wore form-fitting workout clothes and expensive training shoes.

“Forgive my attire,” she said. “I was just about to meet a girlfriend at the gym for a late Zumba class.” She gestured into her apartment. “Please, come in.”

“Oh,” Belinda said. “I’m so sorry we’re holding up your appointment. I promise we won’t take up too much of your time.”

Mrs. Fitzwater waved it off. “I texted Delia, and she’s on her way here. I hope you don’t mind, but she’s such an admirer of your work, and meeting you is much more fun than Zumba.”

“Well, I don’t know; Zumba is pretty fun,” Belinda said with a smile. “And, no, I don’t mind meeting your friend.” Anythingthat put the woman at ease and got her to open up to them was good in her book.

The apartment had lovely high ceilings, original crown molding, tall windows, and plenty of space. Mrs. Fitzwater had decorated in a variety of creams, beiges, and pinks. From the overstuffed sofas to the pink velvet dining chairs, the place oozed charm and taste. But it was a glass vase in the center of the dining table near the window that captured Belinda’s attention.

She gasped and hurried toward it. “You have a Stephanie,” she said with undisguised awe.

The massive vase was made of delicate handblown glass. Its bowl was wide, but the rim spread out in wave shapes, and the colors… It looked like early morning sunlight had been trapped inside the glass.