I stared down at the faint black scuff mark on the drawer front, a tiny scrape against polished wood I hadn’t noticed before. “That sounds… planned.”
He nodded once, grimly. “Yeah. Which means this isn’t bad luck or a mix-up.” A beat. “Someone knew exactly what they were doing.”
The thought hung there between us, heavy and unnerving.
For a few seconds, neither of us moved. The tension wasn’t just from the missing brooch anymore. It was the sharp, charged awareness of being suddenly, unwillingly, on the same side.
I crossed my arms, thinking. “We need a plan. Something structured.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Structured?”
“Yes,” I said excitedly. “We retrace every step. We’ll need to check the delivery times, and at the security and maintenancelogs. If we have all the information together we can figure this out.”
Noah leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, looking far too casual for someone whose vineyard might be hosting a small disaster.
“Or…” he said, “we keep it simple. Ask around discreetly, see if anyone noticed something off. No charts. No colour-coded Excel spreadsheet.”
I stared at him. “That’s not an investigation, that’s gossip.”
He grinned. “Gossip gets results faster than spreadsheets.”
“Data,” I said, “doesn’t lie.”
He tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Neither do people, if you ask the right way.”
For a moment, we just stared at each other, his easy confidence grating against my desperate need for order.
Finally, I exhaled. “Fine.We’ll do both. If one of us turns something up, we regroup.”
“Deal.” He took a sip of his coffee, that infuriating grin returning. “I’ll go check the security and delivery logs, see if anyone new has been on the property lately. You handle the staff interviews. Divide and conquer.”
I stared at him in annoyance. “I’m still not sure how talking to the staff will help, but okay.”
He grinned wider. “Glad we’re on the same page, boss.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw yesterday. “I’m not your boss.”
At that moment, Cleo appeared in the doorway, holding her clipboard like a shield. “Please tell me this is going well,” she said, eyes darting between us.
“Depends on what you mean bythis,” Noah said, straight-faced.
Cleo sighed. “Great. Productive energy. Love that for us. Just remember, you’re both adults with reputations to protect.”
As she retreated down the corridor, Noah raised his eyebrow. “You really think your plan’s going to solve this?”
“I know it will,” I said, straightening. “We’ll see whose method works faster.”
He started for the door, throwing me a glance over his shoulder. “Guess it’s a race, then.”
Chapter Ten
By the time I’d circled halfway through the guest wing, my face actuallyachedfrom smiling. The kind of tight, over-practised expression you pull out when someone tells you their wedding theme is “Coastal Rustic Enchanted Glamour” and expects you to make it make sense.
The corridor buzzed with movement.
Housekeeping trolleys rolled past like very polite tanks, stacked with linen in gravity-defying towers. A bellboy hurried by carrying a bouquet the size of a small child. Somewhere down the hall, someone was loudly debating the correct pronunciation of “charcuterie.”
The air smelled of lemon polish, fresh sheets, and anxiety.
