grandeur [hs au]

Chapter 9

Big hello to you reading this little story of mine! I appreciate everyone who has taken time to explore these moments I've created. :) 

I'm so sorry it's been so long since my last update. So much has changed in my mental health and in my life since I started this story (many of these good changes!).

However, I'm not ready to abandon these characters! Caroline and Harry still have so much to do, and I hope I can see them through it. 

Here is their latest chapter. I hope you enjoy reconnecting with them like I have. <3

-tobesogoldie

______________

I can't believe I'm here again - outside Harry's door. At least this time, I feel I've finally got the upper hand. I've come prepared with my own motives and agenda, ready to con the con artist. I'll play it cool and everything will be fine. I'll let him think I'm all in for his idea, just going along with his plans. However, I'll secretly collect whatever evidence I can and pry for as much information as possible. The photo of the stolen painting in his home might not be enough on its own, but it's at least a good place to start.

Deep breath in.

Slow breath out.

With a few tiny slaps to my cheeks to psych myself up, I finally gather the courage to knock heavy on his door. No music plays behind it this time, just the quietness of bachelor solitude.

I nearly yelp when the door swings open suddenly and without warning. Shoulders pulling back and tilting my chin up, I stand confident to greet him. He watches with a cocky crooked grin, like he already knows I'm here to "cave in" to his requests. Far from it.

"Harry," I offer solemnly with a short nod.

"Caroline," he returns in mock. Though I'm tempted to roll my eyes, instead I remember my planned friendly approach and break into a goofy smile. His warm expression calms my nerves enough to take in his appearance. He stands tall in a black tee tucked into black slim fitting jeans - all dark like the day we met. Or, got re-acquainted, apparently. A thin silver chain hangs around his neck, a thicker chain around his left wrist. Rings still dot his grip.

"Can I come in?" I inquire sweetly, batting my eyelashes and clasping my hands in front of me delicately.

"Of course." He leans against the door to open it wider but doesn't step further back, leaving just a small amount of room for me to squeeze past him. I hear the door shut and lock behind me as I continue to make my way towards the grand piano - and the stolen Monet. My hand rests lightly on the piano as I turn back to face Harry, who examines me with a curious gaze. I smile disarmingly while my mind races for ways to get him away long enough for me to take a photo.

"Harry, did you know Renoir rarely used blacks or browns in his paintings?" I offer. His eyebrows raise and a small smile tugs at his lips before he crosses his arms. He nods for me to continue. "It's a color theory practice he shared with Monet. Their take on shadows was different compared to the rest of the art world at that time. The shadows they painted were not black but instead were painted as reflections of the objects' own colors. That use of color is a major distinction in Impressionist art styles." It's easy for me to rattle off art history facts. The information seems to flow faster and freer when I'm nervous, like it's an automatic response.

"Is that so?" he asks with a full smile this time, unaffected. "Tell me more about Renior."

"Do you have anything to drink?" I blurt out. Play it cool, Caroline. "I mean, you can't expect me to give you a whole art history lesson dry, can you?" A nervous chuckle escapes me.