Page 16 of Suddenly Mine

“We’re looking for a necklace,” the woman cut in, her voice sharp and nasal.

Merry stepped in front of the first counter, but the woman scowled at her.

“Be better, do we look like people who shop in the mass-produced section? These are lab-created diamonds.” She waved a dismissive manicured hand. “If I wanted something fake, I’d go to Macy’s.”

Merry’s smile faltered. “Of course,” she said, guiding them to the fine jewellery case. “If you’re looking for something special, we’ve just had a new collection arrive.”

She opened the cabinet and carefully laid out a velvet tray of necklaces. “These are all certified stones, and many are unique to Carroll’s this season.”

The woman leaned in, peering closely. “That one’s tiny,” she sniffed, pointing at a delicate teardrop diamond. “And thatsetting looks cheap. Honestly, I don’t know what’s happened to this place.”

Merry felt her shoulders sink and she looked to the next section for inspiration.

“If I may suggest—”

The man interrupted her before she could finish her pitch. “We don’t need suggestions from a wet-haired sales assistant with a wrinkled hat and smudged makeup.”

Heat flooded Merry’s cheeks. She wanted to snap back and tell them she was doing her best, but she bit her tongue. Diane caught her eye and gave her a sympathetic wince as she focused back on the tray. In front of her, the couple kept complaining, voices carrying through the crowd.

“Honestly, Harold, I don’t know why you insisted we come here. The standards are slipping. My mother used to shop here when class meant something.”

She’d known it was too good to last. Fairy tales didn’t survive daylight in real life. Not for girls like her.

She took a breath and squared her shoulders, bracing herself for her bump back down to earth.

Chapter 8

CHRISTIAN

It really wasn’t too bad at all if you didn’t mind the stickiness.

Christian dipped his mop into the bucket and ran it along the bathroom floor. Somebody had spilled what had to be three gallons of strawberry milkshake by the sinks, and it had stuck to the tiles like glue. But it was coming away easily enough, and there was almost something therapeutic about the work, the rhythm of the mop and the meditative quiet.

Besides, Christian had worked on much dirtier jobs. Once, when he’d been building his first school in Rapu-Rapu, he’d pickaxed the main sewer pipe, the geyser of filthy water soaking him from head to toe. It had taken him and two more guys the better part of an hour to seal it, and the smell hadn’t washed away for a week. Back then, he’d just set up FutureWorlds, and he had plenty of staff who could have taken over the physical jobs, but Christian liked getting his hands dirty. Well, maybe not as dirty as that, but he liked to be the one out there with a hammer and tacks, or a saw, or a paintbrush. There was something amazing about being able to create a school with your own hands and not just pay for it. Even when you ended up covered in filth — even when you were drenched in sweat and blood and mud. It was almost spiritual.

That’s what his dad had never understood. Lewis Carroll had inherited the store from his own father, Cornelius. Although he’d transformed the little shop into the behemoth it was today, Lewis had never really had to build anything from scratch. He’d always sat behind his desk and given the orders, like a general. He’d never had to go on the buyers’ trips to Africa, to Asia. He’d never seen the workhouses and the mines that created the beautiful fabrics and jewellery and gadgets that filled his store.

Christian preferred to be a soldier. He’d never forgotten his first trip to the Philippines, to the cramped and noisy factory that supplied the bedsheets and duvet covers for Carroll’s. After that day he’d vowed to dedicate himself to helping others, rather than simply adding more wealth to his own pockets, or those of his father.

So what are you doing here?he asked himself.

He squeezed the mess out into the bucket and ran the mop along the last stretch of floor. He wasn’t going to be here for ever. Until New Year, maybe, then he’d fly home. The honest truth was he should have said no to his dad straight away, but seeing the old man so frail, so ill, had been shocking. As ruthless as Lewis was, he was still Christian’s father, and amid all the bad memories of his childhood were a few sparkling, wonderful ones — occasions when his dad had taken the afternoon off and whisked him to the zoo in Central Park, or the library. There had even been Christmases where his dad had given Christian the best present of all: his time.

The least he could do was see this through and be there for his dad when he needed him.

Christian stuck the mop back in the bucket and washed his hands — hands that were already rough and scarred from years of hard work. He dried them on his blue overalls, glancing at his reflection in the mirror.

There was another reason he was glad to have stayed, and that reason had kept him awake all night — not Merry personally, he was sad to say, butthoughtsof her,dreamsof her, gallivanting through his mind until the early hours of the morning.Man, the dreams.It was so unexpected, mainly because he hadn’t been looking for anyone at all. He’d had a couple of dates overseas, but never a relationship, because nothing was as important as the work and there was simply no time to fall in love.

He scrubbed harder at the taps, trying to push the image of her from his mind. Maybe taking a break from FutureWorlds and coming home had given him the chance to breathe, to rest. Maybe that’s all it was — a momentary breath in the chaos.

But still, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d looked at him in that changing room and the way he’d wanted her to give in to whatever the voice in her head was telling her to do.

Those green eyes, dangerous in their sparkle, like they could see through him and still want to linger. Her cheeks were always rosy, freckled like something out of a dream, and her mouth lit him up in places he was trying very hard to ignore right now. Even just thinking about it made his pulse thrum and his overalls feel snug.

It wasn’t lost on him how tempting it would be to lean into his feelings. He’d caught himself more than once wondering what it would be like if the store was shut for the night, just the two of them locked in, him kissing her breathless beside the fake tree and baubles. Maybe more than just kissing. Maybe a hell of a lot more.

But he couldn’t go there. Not when he was keeping secrets and when he’d be gone by January. Merry deserved more than a holiday fling with a guy passing through, so he was keeping his thoughts on a short leash. Or, at least, he was trying to.