Desired By Deception

Chapter 4

The restoration studio had quickly become my only safe place in this luxurious prison. Early morning light streamed through the tall arched windows, lighting up every corner of the big room. Antique oak desks with worn leather tops were arranged for easy work.

This was where I belonged. Not in fancy bedrooms or formal dining halls, but here, surrounded by quiet stories saved in old paper and ink.

I lost myself in the work for hours. I started with a badly damaged page from the early records of Rossi Shipping. Using a soft, dry brush, I gently cleaned away decades of dust and dirt. As I worked, I studied the ink under a magnifying lamp. The different pressure in the writing showed me when the person had been in a hurry and when they were calm. One signature had a slight shake. Maybe from age, maybe from emotion. These small human details were what I loved most.

By late morning, my back and shoulders ached from leaning over the desk. I stood up slowly, rolled my neck, and stretched my arms overhead. It felt good after so many hours of focus. I walked over to the large window that looked out on the estate gardens.

The view was stunning. Perfectly trimmed hedges formed neat patterns. Bright flower beds bloomed in careful color arrangements. Tall trees stood across the wide lawn. Everything looked beautiful and flawless.

And then I saw him.

Julian Vance stood alone under a huge old oak tree near the far side of the garden. He had taken off his suit jacket and laid it neatly over a stone bench. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, showing his strong, veined arms. He paced slowly while on what looked like a heated phone call. His free hand cut through the air, his jaw tight with frustration. His face was serious, almost angry.

For the first time since I’d arrived, he didn’t look like an untouchable billionaire heir. He looked... human.

He stopped pacing, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it smoothly. He took a long drag as he listened, smoke curling around him. The sight felt strangely intimate. Like seeing the polished man with his guard down.

I caught myself staring longer than I should have. He was incredibly handsome, with sharp jawline, dark hair catching the sunlight, broad shoulders filling out his shirt. A dangerous kind of attractive. My heart beat faster even though I didn’t want it to.

Get a grip, Keyanna, I told myself, my cheeks growing warm. You barely know him. Handsome men in expensive suits who live in places like this are exactly the distraction you can’t afford. I needed to focus on why I was really here. Saving my shop, winning my freedom, and finding the truth about Uncle Arthur.

I turned away from the window, determined to get back to work. But something pulled my eyes back for one last look.

Suddenly, Julian lifted his head and looked straight toward the studio window.

Our eyes met across the distance.

Panic hit me. Without thinking, I dropped down below the windowsill so fast that my knee slammed into the sharp edge of the desk.

“Ow! Damn it,” I hissed, rubbing the sore spot. “Real smooth, Keyanna. Acting like an awkward teenager instead of a twenty-eight-year-old woman. Brilliant.”

I stayed crouched there for what felt like forever, heart pounding. The absurdity of hiding in a house I was living in because I got caught staring wasn’t lost on me. After a long moment, curiosity and embarrassment won. I carefully peeked back over the windowsill.

Julian was gone.

The garden was empty except for the gentle movement of leaves in the breeze. Had he really seen me? Or had I imagined it? The question stayed with me as I forced myself back to the documents.

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. I threw myself into the work, studying more historical records from the early years of Rossi Shipping. One contract in particular caught my attention. As I examined the dates and signatures under the lamp, something felt off. A small detail, very easy to miss, but unusual. The way the ink had aged on one entry didn’t quite match the date on the paper. It wasn’t obvious enough to scream “forgery,” but it was enough to raise concerns.

I made careful notes, my pulse quickening. This was exactly the kind of thing Lorenzo would want to know about right away.

By evening, I was exhausted. My eyes burned from hours of close work, and my fingers were lightly stained with cleaning solution. I went back to my room, took a long hot shower, changed into soft loungewear, and climbed into the huge bed, hoping sleep would come.

It didn’t.

My mind wouldn’t settle. It kept replaying the tension between Lorenzo and Julian, and the image of Julian looking up at my window. I tossed and turned for hours before giving up.

Around midnight, I slipped out of bed and padded back to the studio. The documents were still waiting under the soft glow of the desk lamp. I picked up the troubling one and studied it again with fresh eyes.

That’s when the problem became clearer.

The date on one entry didn’t line up with the ink aging or the watermark on the paper. It needed Lorenzo’s attention immediately. My stomach tightened. This could be nothing... or it could be the start of something much bigger.

I decided I should tell him right away. I gathered the document and left the studio, heading toward the main part of the house. Halfway down the dimly lit hallway, I checked the grandfather clock and froze. It was well past midnight.

Waking Lorenzo at this hour felt wrong and risky. I turned around and used the bedside intercom in my room instead.

A calm staff member answered right away. “Yes, Miss Thorne?”

“I’m sorry for the late hour,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Could you please tell Mr. Rossi I’d like to meet with him first thing in the morning? I’ve found something in one of the documents that I think he needs to see.”

“The message will be passed along,” the staff member replied smoothly. “Good night, Miss Thorne.”

I went back to bed, but sleep still wouldn’t come. I lay on my back, staring at the ornate ceiling in the dark. That small inconsistency in the document kept circling in my mind.

Was it just an old mistake from decades ago? Or the first visible crack in a much larger secret hidden inside these walls?