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)
His hand twitches, like he wants to reach out and take it.
No, not a fucking chance.
“Shouldn’t you wait for the office?” I ask, glancing back at the street through the glass doors. Nothing suspicious, but his urgency rankles me.
“Oh, yes, of course.” Mr. Talbot gives us both an easy smile. “I got a touch carried away. I’m sure you can understand why. Please, right this way!”
“Has Fairfax arrived?” I ask as I follow them. I don’t want anyone following us in if I can help it.
“He has.” The curator’s expression doesn’t change as he leads us into what looks like a large reception room. “He’s waiting for us now, right through here.”
My feet sink into the carpet, and I glance into a few other back rooms as we pass by. Open doors lead to enormous storage rooms where items are being studied and unpacked. If I wanted to steal, this place is a goldmine.
It should be impossible.
More black half globes on the ceiling conceal cameras at regular intervals. Unobtrusive, subtle, and spaced out to cover everything.
So far, so good.
But it doesn’t stop that lead churn in my gut.
When we reach a pair of gold detailed double doors leading to what must be Talbot’s office, he stops and gives me a tight smile.
“We won’t be long, if you’d like to wait out here, Mr. Verity.” He gestures to a couple chairs and a small table in the hall.
And leave her alone? Hell no.
That lead turns to lava.
Before I can utter a word, Cleo steps back, holding up a hand, her eyes bright and pleading.
“You heard him. End of the line. We made it,” she says, her voice clear and carrying over to where Talbot waits at the door.
“You can’t be serious.” I keep my voice quiet, not wanting him—or worse, Fairfax—to hear what’s going on. “You can’t just walk in there alone.”
“I can and I will. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Please. Please don’t make this messy.
Please don’t hurt me again.
Her eyes glitter with determination—and behind it, hurt.
A brutal pain I don’t know how to fix stops years of stone-cold professionalism in its tracks. I feel my mind splinter.
“Clee—” I clear my throat roughly.
“Just one little meeting, Holden, and we’re done. I’ll be right back.” She glances at Talbot, who’s staring at the wall impatiently with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “I’ve got this.” She sticks her hand out at me. “For real, thank you for everything.”
I stare at her hand, paralyzed.
“It’s my job to stay with you.” Hollow words spoken by soulless lips.
She drops the hand and scowls. “Whatever, I tried. Just wait here.”
Talbot jumps into action like she called him. “If you’d like, I can have a few additional security staff wait outside with him,” he says, flashing me a look as he reaches for a radio by his belt.
Fucking unbelievable.
And she turns away, her cinnamon hair slashing down her shoulders like a curtain call, right before that gold door opens and they step into the unknown.
Every instinct howls at me to charge in, don’t leave her alone.
But she begged me to let her have her moment. She pleaded to let this end with a little goddamned grace, and we both want that, don’t we?
As a couple buff guards appear at the end of the hall with their shoulders squared, staring me down, I throw myself into one of the small padded red-and-white chairs.
I stare at my phone, idly scrolling. A few short clips from Kit showing off a visit to a gardening store with my mother.
I countdown, mentally tracking every second.
Twenty minutes.
That’s all I have in me.
I’ll either see Cleo Blackthorn for the last time as she walks out, safe and sound, or else I’ll tear this place down to its studs.
25
HIGHEST BIDDER (CLEO)
Jasper Fairfax waits in the office, right next to the largest antique desk I’ve ever seen, just like Mr. Talbot promised.
It’s a lovely space. Large, well lit, bursting with colorful nineteenth century paintings on the walls. That ginormous desk dominates the room and puts the one I inherited from Gramps to shame.
The smile the art puts on my face slowly melts when I notice Fairfax’s face.
He’s shiny with sweat and he looks like he’s aged ten years from our last meeting. Tired, pale, with bloodshot eyes and dark bags around his cheeks. Has he been… crying?
What the hell?
My heart rabbits.
He reaches up and rubs his temples like he’s fighting back a blinding headache. Then he gives me this vacant smile, devoid of the energy and charm I saw before.
“Mr. Fairfax, hi. Are you feeling okay?” I ask in a small voice.
I briefly forgot Holden. Oh, but his warning comes rushing back now. So does knowing I’m in here with them alone.
“Do you, uh, need some water?”
“Such a kind girl,” he strangles out, his voice flat.
“Guys, what is this? What’s—”