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least the artificial light of the kitchen and pantry.  She cast her arms out in front of her, fumbling for the doorknob.  When she felt it, she grasped it tightly and turned, stepping gratefully out of the cellar passageway.
    Ella emerged into the kitchen, an enormous room filled with gleaming stainless steel appliances and windows that looked out onto the gardens.  The countertops were tiled with blue and yellow designs that reminded her of her Aunt Molly’s French country kitchen.  Above her, a ceiling rack held dozens of copper pots and kettles.  The place looked like a magazine spread, right down to the bowl of lemons sitting on the kitchen island.
    Behind her, Sébastien stepped quickly to a built-in cabinet and pulled two leather jackets from padded hangers.  “Here,” he said, handing one to her.
    “What’s this?” she asked.
    “It belongs to Frau Müller, but you’ll borrow it while we’re out.  Take off that red thing.”
    Ella shook her head.  She was determined not to give in, not to be ordered around.  “No way.”
    Sébasti e n’s green eyes flashed with anger.  “Do it!”
    She stomped her foot and staked her ground.  “Why?”
    “Because I asked you to,” he snarled, baring his teeth.
    “You didn’t ask me to do anything.  If you have a good reason for it, just tell me.”
    He stepped closer to her, near enough for her to feel his breath on her face.  He curled his lip and glared at her. 
    Ella gulped and locked her knees in place to keep from stepping backward.  So this is what it feels like to work for Sébastien Cherbourg , she thought.  You take your life in your hands every time you disagree with him.  Inside, she was terrified he’d accuse her of the robbery and have her arrested.  She was even more terrified that she’d never find out why Sébastien’s family collection included a stone obviously stolen from her father. 
    Every instinct in her body warned her to run, to get away from this man towering over her.  He was at least half a foot taller than her and almost a hundred pounds heavier.  If he wanted, he could do some serious damage to her. 
    But then she remembered what her father had taught her.  “Never let them see how they’ve hurt you,” he’d said.  “Never let them know you’re scared.”  He’d given her this lesson after a client balked at paying his bill and left Frederick with no choice but to insist on payment or a call to the police.  After a tense stand-off in the workshop during which the man had threatened her father’s life, the client had finally agreed to pay in installments, thanks to a generous compromise on her father’s part.  I’m trying, Dad , she thought.
    Ella stood up straight and met Sébastien’s fiery gaze head-on.  “If you want me to wear a different coat, you have to tell me why.  And the answer can’t be because you don’t like red.”
    He clenched his fists.  It took all of her physical control not to wince or step backward.  “Are you always like this?” he asked.
    “Like what?”
    “A pain in the rear.”
    “I’m always me,” she said.  “Take it or leave it.” 
    Ella felt her knees quiver once but kept her stance tall and straight.  “ Just t ell me what’s going on.”
    She saw him clench his jaw as he fought back an angry reply.  The muscles in his cheek stood out against his jawbone as he ground his teeth.  The strain it took for him to control himself was both frightening and amusing.  It was frightening because if he ever released his pent-up anger, he’d be like a hurricane—so powerful he could destroy just about anything in his path.  But it was also amusing because the fact that he controlled it meant she was winning. 
    Ella felt a thrill of pride that she was able to make this big bully back down.  “Tell me what’s going on,” she repeated.
    “Fine,” he retorted, backing away.  He ran a hand through his tousled black hair.  “If someone has just gotten out