Chapter 86
Chapter 86:
“Look at that,” Heather snickered, pointing a manicured finger. “They let anyone in this neighborhood now p>
Grandpa Vance stood near the curb. He was wearing the new Italian wool suit Aurora had bought him days ago in preparation for their new life. It fit him perfectly, but he stood with the posture of a man who had spent forty years sweeping floors—slightly hunched, trying not to take up space. He held three large shopping bags from the department store where Aurora was finishing up a return. Jones, the massive bodyguard assigned to them by Victor King, was loading the previous batch of bags into the black SUV a few yards away, his back momentarily turned.
Heather walked over, swinging her car keys. She didn’t see the quality of the suit fabric. She only saw the old man standing by the curb.
“Excuse me,” she said loudly.
Arthur turned, a polite smile on his face. “Yes, miss p>
“You’re the valet, right?” She tossed her keys at him. “Park this. And be careful, the leather is custom p>
The keys hit Arthur’s chest. He fumbled, surprised, and they clattered to the sidewalk.
He stared at them. “I… I am not the valet, miss p>
Heather’s face twisted into a scowl. “Excuse me? You drop my keys and then give me attitude? Pick them up p>
“I am waiting for my granddaughter,” Arthur said, his voice steady but quiet. He didn’t pick up the keys.
“Pick. Them. Up.” Heather stepped closer, looming over him. “Do you know who my uncle is? I can have you banned from this entire street p>
Before Arthur could respond, a shadow fell over Heather. Jones had returned. He didn’t say a word. He simply stepped between Heather and Arthur, his six-foot-four frame blocking out the sun. He crossed his arms, the muscles in his suit jacket straining.
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Heather froze. She looked up at Jones, her mouth opening and closing.
The glass door of the store opened. Aurora stepped out. She saw the scene instantly—her grandfather looking confused, the young woman looking terrified, and Jones radiating menace. Her eyes went cold. She dropped the receipt into her purse and started forward.
In the walk-in closet of the Thorne Manor, Elias stood before a wall of fifty suits. It was a military formation of wool and silk. He held a crimson tie in his left hand and a navy blue one in his right.
He closed his eyes. The book. Page 60. Color psychology.
“Red—aggression. Passion. Danger,” he muttered. “Too much. Too soon p>
He looked at the blue tie. “Blue is trust. Stability. Calm p>
He tossed the red tie onto the bench. He began to knot the blue tie, his fingers moving with practiced precision.
“Going to a funeral p>
Elias froze. He saw Leo in the mirror, leaning against the doorframe, munching on a green apple.
“I have a dinner meeting,” Elias said, tightening the knot. “With Grandmother p>
“Right,” Leo chomped. “Since when do you wear a three-piece suit to eat dinner with Grandma? Usually, you wear a t-shirt and complain about the heating p>