Chapter 6: The Formal Retainer
The morning sun filtered through the high, arched windows of Julian Vance’s executive suite, casting long, pale geometries across the polished walnut desk. I stood near the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, my fingers resting on the spine of a calfskin-bound volume while I waited for the elevator doors down the hall to chime. My white dress shirt and black vest had been replaced by a sharp charcoal blazer and tailored trousers—a gift from Julian’s personal assistant delivered to my apartment at dawn, along with a formal letter of appointment.
The heavy mahogany door swung open with a soft pneumatic hiss, and Julian walked in. He looked tired, the faint shadows beneath his sharp eyes telling the story of a night spent managing fallout from Marcus Cole’s attempted break-in.
"The police processed the vault at three in the morning," Julian said, tossing a leather folder onto the center of his desk. He shrugged out of his overcoat, draping it over the back of his executive chair before looking up at me. "Marcus is out on bail, naturally. His legal team filed an emergency injunction claiming our security footage was improperly secured. He’s fighting back."
"He knows those ledgers are his undoing," I replied, stepping away from the shelf and walking toward the desk. "If the district attorney cross-references the ink chemistry on those 15th-century deeds with Marcus’s private accounts, the whole syndicate collapses."
Julian leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. His gaze was no longer the cold, assessing stare he had given me across the private dining room table days ago. There was an intense, quiet respect in his eyes now. "I spoke to the board an hour ago. Marcus has been stripped of his partnership effective immediately. I also had the legal department draft a permanent contract for you. Chief antiquities and document consultant. Full benefits, a generous retainer, and direct access to every private acquisition fund I control."
I looked down at the leather folder. My chest tightened with a strange mixture of vindication and apprehension. "You're offering me a permanent position after knowing me for less than a week? Just because I spotted a papal seal facing the wrong direction?"
"You spotted a forgery that would have cost my foundation millions and destroyed my reputation," Julian corrected softly, standing up and walking around the desk to stop just a few feet away from me. "More importantly, you have a mind that doesn't bend to pressure. I need someone who can see through the polish. Will you take the position, Clara?"
May you like
I held his gaze, feeling the steady, deliberate rhythm of my own breathing. "Yes. On one condition. I want complete autonomy over the upcoming estate audit in upstate New York. If there are more fakes hidden in your portfolio, I want to find them before Marcus’s associates try to bury them."
Julian’s lips curved into a faint, approving smile. "Done. Pack a bag. We’re driving to the estate this afternoon."
