"I have to get some work done before we leave, Nina. We need to be ready in little more than an hour."
Even the mere mention of work changed his mood from playful to serious, almost worried. His beautiful face became marred by a deep frown. I wanted to ask what the problem was, but I let it be. For all I knew, it could be the flight we had to take. So I toddled off to take a nice hot bath before having to spend eight hours on a plane, satisfied that even with the abbreviated holiday, it still had been the most incredible few days of my life.
Tristan vanished almost the minute we arrived home, so I headed straight to my room, ready to throw myself into my next assignment with the Miami Richmont hotel. I opened the door to the room that had become my home and instantly knew something had changed. Nothing I'd left on the desk while we were in Venice was there, including my laptop. Frantic, I ran down the hall yelling Tristan's name. Didn't he have security that handled things like this?
Rogers heard my screams and in his usual fashion seemed to appear out of nowhere as I reached the kitchen. Fully convinced my belongings had been stolen, I blurted out, "We've been robbed! My laptop and a bunch of other stuff is gone, Rogers! Did you see anyone?"
"Miss, we haven't been robbed. I think you'll find all your personal belongings have been moved to the master's room, as per his orders. If you'd like, I can escort you there where your things are safe and sound."
I stood stunned at the butler's words. Unsure of what to say, I mumbled a quick thank you and quickly made my way to Tristan's side of the house to find everything as Rogers had claimed. My laptop sat in the exact same position on his desk as it had in my room. Every stitch of clothing I owned, even down to my underwear, had been moved and placed in the enormous walk-in closet just beside his clothes. My hand instinctively reached out to touch his suits and dress shirts hanging perfectly on their hangers, loving the feel of their crisp softness against my fingertips as I ran my hand all the way toward the furthest point of the closet. I checked the bathroom and there were brand new, unopened bottles of everything I used—shampoo, conditioner, facial scrub, moisturizer, and even a tube of my favorite toothpaste.
Tristan had arranged for all of this, but when?
I walked out of the bathroom impressed with his attention to every detail, even the tiniest one. Other women may have loved his money or stunning looks, but for me, his way of noticing what other men didn't was one of the best parts of him.
Grabbing my laptop, I plopped myself down on the bed and opened it to begin searching for information on the Miami hotel. There on the keyboard was an envelope. I opened it and found another of Tristan's letters I'd grown to love.
Dear Nina,
It's only right that the woman I love be in her rightful place next to me. When I get home I'll be eager to see your ideas for Miami. I'll be spending my day fixing problems, but you can be sure that our time in Venice is on my mind.
Love always,
Tristan
I beamed as I reread his letter, loving the sweetness of him writing one at all. I stared at the note, running my finger over the handwritten words. God, I loved him! Folding the heavy stationary back into the envelope, I pressed it to my heart before I slipped the letter into my purse to join the others.
As much as I wanted to lounge around and think about Tristan, I had work to do. Just because he was as crazy about me as I was about him didn't mean I wanted to slack off at my job. In fact, it made me want to be even better at it. Doing a great job would help him in some small way, and that made me feel like I deserved that rightful place next to him.
Before I began searching for the perfect artwork for the Miami Presidential suite, my email lured me in like a siren's song. Jordan had sent me a message just a few hours earlier. Clicking on it, I read her email to find that I had some kind of letter waiting for me. She didn't say much about it, other than that it looked official, which piqued my curiosity, but that would have to wait. She and Justin seemed to be fine and moving toward bigger and better things, and our neighbor Mrs. Phillips on the first floor was just as crazy as she'd always been, but now that madness included a long-lost grandson who Jordan hated because he was one of those people who kept eye contact for too long.
I had to laugh at Jordan's rundown of life back in Brooklyn. She was happy, and things were just as she'd always said they'd be. Good people were having good things happen for them, and this time, we were those people too.
I tapped out a quick email to tell her I'd be dropping by the apartment the next day, and then I was a woman on a mission with her nose to the art world grindstone. The suite in Miami had recently been redecorated to reflect the varied cultures and artistic styles found in that city. The pictures of the suite were breathtaking and intimidating. Tristan's decorators had spared no cost in creating a wonderful suite of rooms showcasing the fusion of Latin American flavors and Caribbean influences so key to Miami. The vibrant blues, yellows, and reds made the suite look like the perfect getaway spot, and I wished we'd visit there just to experience it.
That I now had to find that one perfect piece of art to bring the rooms together felt like a Herculean challenge. Of all the assignments he'd given me, this one threatened to show that I wasn't as good at this as I wanted to be.
I rubbed my temples and rolled my shoulders. You can do this, Nina. You can do this.
My pep talk worked a small wonder on my psyche, and I set myself to the task of finding that one piece I had to believe existed. Thankfully, the designer hadn't gone with the obvious choice of art deco for the Miami suite. I could appreciate that. Her choices had made the Richmont unique in a sea of luxury hotels in South Beach.
Rubbing my hands together, ideas began popping in my mind and I had a brainstorm. My fingers set off clicking away on the keyboard, but two hours later, I still hadn't found what I was searching for. What had seemed like such a great idea didn't seem to actually exist. The thought occurred to me that I could create something on my own, but my skill as a painter wasn't great enough to have one of my pieces hang in the Presidential suite.