Page 37 of This Bitter Sweet Temptation
“I worked for Leonidas Blackthorn,” he says matter-of-factly, quirking a brow. He doesn’t smile, but it’s close. “You think I’m a stranger to making travel plans on the fly?”
“Guess not.” Now I feel dumb.
“But,” he adds, holding up a hand, “I will need more details. Who’s your man? What makes you so certain he’s the right person? Have you looked into him?”
“Calm down.” I roll my eyes. “Obviously, I did some fact-checking. I didn’t just throw darts at the list. He’s an expert on Russian and Greek history, and he’s a pretty big name in the art world. Clean reputation from what I can tell, no big money types buzzing around him. The vibes were good on the call.”
“The vibes,” he mutters, his mouth turning down. “That’swhat you’re going on?”
“Oh my God. Just when I thought we might be able to work together, you have to do that.” I tap the edge of my phone against my hand.
“That?”
“That asshole old man thing. The thing where you bow up like an alley cat and act like I’m still sixteen with no life experience.”
“Thatiscalled due diligence. It’s a good thing, for everyone’s sake,” he insists. “I can run background checks, deep personal histories, lean on private investigators if I need to. All part of keeping you from walking into a scam. Also, I’m thirty-eight, smartass.”
“Oh sure. Forgot you were Mr. CIA. You’re so unbearable,” I hiss.
“If that’s my only crime, I plead guilty.” His sigh sounds like it contains all the air in his body.
“Keep going. You’re still doing it.”
“Doingwhat?”
“The sanctimonious thing. That annoying fucking thing where you act like you’re still my chaperone,” I snap. “I looked into him, all right? It’s a basic meeting at an office in New York. We’re not going to wind up with mafia guys stuffing us into the trunk or whatever you’re thinking.” I hold up my hands and sigh sharply. “And yes, I know it’s sensitive. But if we just sit on the egg instead of asking questions, at least getting it looked at, this never goes anywhere. We have to trustsomeoneenough to get an actual opinion.”
He isn’t satisfied.
Holden doesn’t think I’ve picked the right man when he hasn’t given Fairfax a glance. Even though he said he trusted me to take the lead on the art side.
Just when I thought he’d start dealing with me like an adult.
His nostrils flare. “I’m not your chaperone, Cleo Blackthorn. I’m your goddamned protector.”
“Yeah? Then you should trust me to protect my valuables.” I hate how my voice breaks.
How he makes me so mad I’m on the verge of doing that squeaky, ragey sound I’ve tried to suppress my whole life.
Thanks, Dad. Many shouting matches with his dumb, drunken ass growing up put that there.
I inhale deeply and hold it, closing my eyes. Too long.
“What’s going on?” His voice softens as he steps closer. “Shit, I didn’t mean to set you off.”
So close. I canfeelhis massive presence, his radiating heat, before I even open my eyes a second later.
“It’s called working in tandem. Together. Compartmentalization,” he explains. “Find a buyer. That’s your job. Mine is to vet them. I have ways of sniffing out security risks you don’t. I need to trust you, yeah. You need to give me the same courtesy.”
“You… you can’t keep doing that,” I say miserably.
“What?” He shakes his head.
“Being reasonable.” I want to spit.
Instead, I don’t know what’s happening when he grabs my hands and gently pulls them to his chest. He holds them in his firm grip, sheltering them, shelteringme.
I cannot and will not cry. There’s been too much of that lately.
