“That sounds about right,” I muttered.
Still nothing.
I thanked them both and retreated before I could embarrass myself further.
Back inside, I paused at the foot of the main staircase. The marble tiles gleamed, sunlight pouring through the tall windows, casting striking golden patches on the floor. Everything was immaculate, and yet all I could see was that empty drawer in my mind.
I checked my watch. Ten fifty-five.
Noah would be finishing his check of the delivery logs soon, which meant I had approximately five minutes before he came striding back with that insufferably calm look of his, the one that saidtold you sowithout a word.
I rubbed my temples. “You wanted a challenge, Holly,” I muttered. “You wanted to prove you could run destination weddings. And now look, missing jewellery before lunch. Excellent work.”
“Ms Sinclair?”
I jumped out of my skin.
One of the maintenance crew, Liam, I thought his name was, stood nearby holding a coil of cable and looking apologetic.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “Just wanted to let you know I fixed that wobbly table you mentioned yesterday.”
“Oh?” I said, pausing.
Liam wiped his hands on a rag as I approached, the faint scent of furniture polish clinging to the air. “Gave it a proper tighten early this morning before the guests were up.”
“Well, thank you,” I said, grateful for at leastonething running smoothly. “You’re saving my sanity one piece of furniture at a time.”
He grinned. “Figured it was easier to fix it before the breakfast crowd descended. Place was empty then, barely a light on. Oh, except I did see someone moving about near the guest wing while I was in the corridor.”
He said it so casually, like it was nothing. But the words landed hard, like a stone skipping once before sinking.
“Near the guest wing?” I tried to keep my tone light, neutral.
“Yeah,” he said, shrugging, already reaching for his toolbox. “Must’ve been around six, maybe a bit before. Figured one of the stylists had an early start.”
He offered a polite nod, ready to move on with his day, while I stood frozen, replaying his words.
And suddenly, I remembered the soft scuff I’d heard outside my door earlier, that tiny brush of movement I’d dismissed as housekeeping or someone up too early for coffee. I’d barely registered it at the time, more focused on keeping the day on track than deciphering stray noises in old corridors.
But now the memory nudged at me, sharper than before. A human step. A shift of weight. A pause, like someone deciding where to go next.
A chill threaded down my spine.
Had I heard… them? Whoever was snooping, searching, unlocking doors they shouldn’t?
I tried to keep my voice sturdy. “Could you tell who it was?”
“Nah. Just saw their shape through the frosted glass. Could’ve been anyone.”
He gave me a sympathetic shrug and wandered off, leaving me rooted to the spot.
Someone had been near the guest wing. Before dawn. Before the day had even started.
For a moment, I could hear my own heartbeat.
I closed my eyes and straightened my shoulders.
Okay. So maybe my detective instincts weren’t entirely useless after all.
