Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
I swallow, nodding my head as Axel confirms my earlier thoughts. “So how is it here then?”
His frown deepens. “Because it’s been switched. This isn’t the painting Joseph originally bought.”
I am impressed at how Axel is seeing the problem almost instinctively. There’s a weight in his words, a certainty that I can’t help but respect.
“You’re probably right,” I say softly. It’s the only other explanation.
I glance at him, for the first time noticing more than the brooding, impossible good looks and the clipped sentences. There’s a sharp intelligence here, a subtle appreciation of process, of understanding human nature. He’s more than his arrogant surface, more than the dismissive expression he usually wears.
He tilts his head slightly. “We should discuss this further. Away from the vault. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere we can think.”
I don’t hesitate. If he suggests going to the moon to talk, I’m in. “Where?”
“Meet me in the dining room. We’ll talk over dinner. An hour from now.”
I nod, my throat dry and my mind already racing through possibilities. “An hour is good because I’ll need to change first,” I say, gesturing to my stained overalls.
“Alright,” he says, his voice low, but with that edge that keeps me alert. “See you there.”
With that, he pushes himself up off the table and leaves. I look back over the painting one last time, lingering over the clever brush work, the subtle genius of the forgery. It is a real mystery. Who did it? Then, I step out of the vault too, already thinking about what to change into, how to prepare myself, not for dinner exactly, but for the discussion with Axel.
And somewhere deep inside, I feel like it’s possible the dinner will also be something more. Because Axel can act like he hates me all he likes, but under all the snapping and biting, all the distance, all the carefully maintained control, there is something more there, and whatever this is between us, whatever simmering, silent tension exists, I already feel it pulling me forward. I know it’s a bad idea. But despite that, I don’t know if I will even try to fight it.
Chapter
Seventeen
JO
Imake my way down the corridor, my thoughts buzzing from the discovery of the fake. I touch my skin where Axel accidentally brushed, and it feels like it is still tingling. I have to admit, part of me is simultaneously annoyed that his touch affects me so much and yet I am also feeling oddly alive from it. It’s like the whole world has become brighter and more beautiful. All the colors, more vibrant.
Strange. So strange.
I reach the dining room and pause in the doorway. Axel is already there, seated at the head of the long mahogany dining table. He stands courteously when he sees me. The movement is fluid, confident, and my pulse hitches. His dark jeans are snug across his thighs, and his black T-shirt clings sexily to his chest and shoulders, showing off the lean muscles beneath the fabric. I am glad I chose to go casual too; gray jeggings and a thin, white jumper, and not the dress I almost wore.
“Jo,” he says, his voice low and dangerously gravelly. “Come with me.”
Where is he taking me? I don’t know, but I don’t hesitate to follow him. I am in this now and there’s no going back. He leads me through a set of double doors that blend so well into the paneling on the dining room wall that I hadn’t noticed them before. They open up into the conservatory.
The last of the evening sunlight pours through the glass panes that makeup both the walls and the ceiling, illuminating the room in a warm amber glow. The floor tiles are pale cream and black marble. Sprigs of climbing velvety green ivy cling to the metal structure fixed to the walls. Beyond that, the gardens stretch out in perfect symmetry. The metal figure in the middle of the fountain glints in the fading light.
To one side of the room is a generous buffet, laid out neatly on a polished oak sideboard. There’s a selection of fresh salads. From where I’m standing, I can make out quinoa and roasted vegetables, arugula and cherry tomatoes, and beetroot and goat’s cheese. A plate of charcuterie meats and cheeses sits beside a basket of artisan breads. There are also seven lidded silver containers holding hot food. Little glass bowls hold olives, nuts, and dried fruits, and there’s a chilled bottle of sparkling water on ice alongside two glasses that are so well chilled they have condensation on them. Even here, in the quiet of the conservatory, the presentation is quite splendid. Maybe I should let the chef make my dinner more often if this is anything to go by. Axel gestures to the spread.
“I asked the Chef to set us up here because we might be overheard in the dining room. I don’t want to alert anyone else to the fact that we’ve found a problem yet. Let’s keep this between the two of us until we figure it out.”