Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
When my phone buzzes, I snatch it, happy for the smallest distraction. Though when I see who’s calling, my stomach drops.
The curator, Talbot.
I switch on my sunniest smile and answer the call.
“Hi, Mr. Talbot. How can I help?”
“I’m just calling to confirm our meeting is still on for this morning,” he says pleasantly. “Nine o’clock sharp?”
“Yes, that’s right. We’re almost ready.” I sip my coffee, wishing my head wasn’t pounding. “Is everything still good on your end?”
For a second, he hesitates.
That weird dread I’ve carried the whole way here deepens.
“Actually, Miss Blackthorn, there’s been a slight change in plans,” he admits. “Mr. Fairfax has gotten in touch. He wanted to personally wish you well and see the egg off. I trust there’s no issues with this?”
Holden puts his cup down slowly, his dark eyes searching my frown. I turn away protectively, knowing he won’t like it.
If Holden’s right and Fairfax has other intentions…
But this is at a city museum for shit’s sake. Nothing could happen there.
Nothing will.
“That should be fine,” I mutter. “I’ll clear it and we’ll be there in roughly an hour as planned.”
“Great! I look forward to seeing you then.” He ends the call and after a second, I set my phone back on the table.
“What?” Holden clips, his eyes fixed on my face. “I know that look.”
“What look?”
“Something’s wrong. What is it?”
“Nothing!” But the jitter in my gut tells me that’s not true. “It’s just, there’s been a development.”
Holden’s eyes go pitch black as he watches me. “Cleo, tell me.”
I take another gulp of coffee, like caffeine will magically stop Holden from overreacting and going all secret service man.
“It’s no big,” I stress. “Talbot just called to tell me Fairfax will be there too.”
“Absolutely not,” Holden growls without skipping a beat.
A part of me thrills at the way he bristles, muscles bowed up, guarded and ready to kill for me.
Then I remember it’s unhealthy. He’s just doing his job, and it’s not an artifact of our little fling.
“You can relax. It’s a museum decked with cameras and security. We’re meeting in broad daylight,” I say, but he stands abruptly, shoving his chair back.
“No, it’s not. If we’re going to meet with Fairfax, it’ll be public. Somewhere I know.”
I sigh heavily, and his eyes narrow. “Holden, the museum is public.”
“Not public enough. Some stuffy little back office? Fuck that.”
“There are cameras,” I protest, knowing there’s a lot I don’t know about the setup there. That’s his job. “People will see us go in.”
He leans over my chair, his face mere inches from mine.
“There were cameras at your grandfather’s house. I’m not saying it’s a setup, but all it takes is seconds. One vulnerability and his henchmen will have you on the floor, and then they’ll have the egg.”
“…isn’t that what you’re for? So ridiculous.”
His face screws up with annoyance.
“I’m the expert here,” he snarls. “I planned this exchange very carefully, and now your boy wants to pull the rug out at the last minute? For no real reason? It reeks, woman.”
I close my eyes for a fraught second.
“Holden, we don’t have time for this crap. We’ve come this far. Can’t we just trust one little surprise won’t derail everything?”
“Not when it comes to your safety,” he rumbles.
A hurt, dumb part of me loves that he doesn’t even mention the egg.
I push at his chest until he lets up so I can stand.
Precious space.
Just never enough for my aching heart. I’m half a second away from going nuclear, from kissing him, from trying to push him onto the balcony and locking the door. Yeah, good luck moving a mountain.
“My safety isn’t at risk. You can’t believe that.” I inhale sharply. Squaring up to him makes me feel smaller, but I do it anyway. “The museum’s open and the office is tucked away toward the back, isn’t it?”
He nods gruffly.
“Right. So they probably have cameras at the door, or at least pointed at it… Nothing gets in or out without being filmed.”
“Outside, yeah,” he clips. “That’s not the point. I haven’t trusted that fucking snake from day one, and now you want to walk right into a trap.”
“Come on. What trap?” Now it’s my turn to get closer and angrier. I’ve kept a lid on my emotions as long as I can stand. I stab a finger at his chest, and it doesn’t give even one bit. “Holden, stop. I’m not letting one little change in plans blow this for us. We’re not starting over again. We’re not doing this forever. You know what, screw your paranoia.”
His face falls.
I regret my words, but I also don’t.
“Paranoia? Cleo, someone broke into the house. Men who’ve crossed continents murdering for money.”
“At night! In the dark! This is a museum in flipping New York City.” I catch myself before I’m screaming. Barely.
He looks away, his lip curled like he can’t bear to look at me anymore. “Think about it, Clee.”