“That would be lovely. Dry white if you have it,” she responds.
I switch off the music as Gia joins me by the table.
“Would you like some more wine, Christian?” Ana calls.
“Please, baby.” I watch as she retrieves the wineglasses.
Gia stands beside me. “This is good work, Gia,” I say, as she moves a little too close. “This especially.” I point at the rear elevation of her CAD drawing. “I think Ana has some opinions on the glass wall, but generally we’re both pleased with the ideas you’ve come up with.”
“Oh, I’m glad,” Gia coos, and she pats my arm.
Keep your fucking distance. She’s wearing a cloying, rich perfume that’s almost suffocating.
I step out of her reach and call to Ana. “Thirsty here.”
“Coming right up,” Ana responds.
A beat later, she’s back with glasses of wine for each of us, and she inserts herself between Gia and me—deliberately, I think. Has she noticed how Gia is incapable of keeping her hands to herself?
“Cheers.” I offer up my glass in thanks to Ana and take a sip of wine.
“Ana, you have some issues with the glass wall?” Gia prompts.
“Yes. I love it—don’t get me wrong. But I was hoping that we could incorporate it more organically into the house. After all, I fell in love with the house as it was, and I don’t want to make any radical changes.”
“I see.” Gia’s eyes flick to mine, and I look at Ana.
She continues, “I just want the design to be sympathetic, you know, more in keeping with the original house.” Ana glances at me.
“No major renovations?” I say.
“No.”
“You like it as it is?”
“Mostly, yes. I always knew it just needed some TLC.”
Ana’s eyes are glowing, reflecting mine, I’m sure.
Are we talking about the house, or me?
“Okay.” Gia gives us a quick glance before pitching a revised plan. “I think I get where you’re coming from, Ana. How about if we retain the glass wall, but have it open out onto a larger deck that’s in keeping with the Mediterranean style. We have the stone terrace there already. We can put in pillars in matching stone, widely spaced so you’ll still have the view. Add a glass roof, or tile it as per the rest of the house. It’ll also make a sheltered alfresco dining and seating area.”
Ana looks impressed.
Gia continues, “Or instead of the deck, we could incorporate a wood color of your choice into the glass doors—that might help to keep the Mediterranean spirit.”
“Like the bright blue shutters in the South of France,” Ana says, looking at me.
I’m not keen on the idea, but I’m not going to shoot her down in front of Ms. Matteo. Besides, if that’s what Ana wants, she can have it. I’ll learn to live with it. I ignore Gia, preening beside me.
“Ana, what do you want to do?” I ask.
“I like the deck idea.”
“Me, too.”
Ana turns her attention to Gia. “I think I’d like to see revised drawings, showing the bigger deck and pillars that are in keeping with the house.”
“Sure,” Gia says to Ana. “Any other issues?”
“Christian wants to remodel the master suite,” Ana says.
Another discreet cough interrupts us.
“Taylor?” He’s standing on the threshold.
“I need to confer with you on an urgent matter, Mr. Grey.”
I squeeze Ana’s shoulders and address Gia. “Mrs. Grey is in charge of this project. She has absolute carte blanche. Whatever she wants, it’s hers. I completely trust her instincts. She’s very shrewd.” Ana reaches up and pats my hand.
“If you’ll excuse me.” I leave them, and follow Taylor into his office. Prescott is there, seated at the CCTV monitor bank. Over her shoulder, all the feeds from around the apartment and also from the perimeter of Escala and the garage are on display.
“Mr. Grey,” Prescott greets me.
“Evening. What gives?”
Taylor grabs a chair from his small conference table and places it beside Prescott. He gestures to me to sit down. I comply and look at them expectantly.
“Prescott has been going through all the tapes from over the weekend from downstairs and outside. She found this.” Taylor nods at her, and using her mouse, Prescott clicks start on one of the screens.
A grainy image begins to play. It shows a man in coveralls walking toward the front entrance of the building, and inspecting the camera itself. She freezes it as the man looks directly at the camera.
Fuck. “It’s Jack Hyde,” I murmur, and he has his hair tied back. “When was this?”
“It’s Saturday, August 20, at around nine forty-five in the morning.”
His hair is lighter here; he must have been wearing a wig in the server room at Grey House.
“Sir, I’ve isolated all the footage I can find of him at around this time,” Prescott says.
“Interesting. What else do you have?”
She runs through several clips of Hyde: at the front door, at the opening to the garage, at the fire escapes. He’s carrying a broom, which he uses occasionally so he looks like a street cleaner.
Cunning bastard.
It’s weirdly fascinating to watch him.
“Have you sent this to Welch?”
“Not yet,” Taylor says. “I thought you’d better see it first.”
“Send it to him. Perhaps he can track where he goes from here.”
“Will do. This might be just the clue they need. Though, I learned today they haven’t found him yet. He’s still not been to his apartment, sir.”
“Oh, that’s news.”
“I spoke with Welch for a full update about an hour ago,” Taylor clarifies.
“No doubt he’ll fill me in tomorrow. This is good work. Well done, Prescott.” I give her a quick smile.
“Thank you, sir.”
“We’ll have to be extra careful, knowing that he’s prowling around the building.”
“Indeed,” Taylor agrees.
“I’d better head back. Thank you. Both of you.”
It looks like Ana and Gia are finishing up when I enter the living room. “All done?” I ask, as I put my arm around Ana.