by A Caprice
He rose and circled his desk to stand before her. “No apologies needed.” She had taken a shower and smelled faintly of his body wash.
He breathed deep, his body liking that she wore his scent. Liking it a little too much. Reminding himself, again, that she had been in an explosion just last night, Gio stepped back. “How do you feel this morning?”
Amanda pulled at the hem of the t-shirt. “I’m fine. My ears are still ringing a bit, but I can hear again.” She walked to a bookcase and trailed her fingers over a collection of works by Dante Alighieri. “This is your study?”
“Yes. I have brought down some of the documents I would like you to translate if you feel up to it today.” And hidden away those artifacts it wouldn’t do for her to see.
“Gio, I think I should leave.” She rocked on her feet and stared at a point over his shoulder.
“Why ever would you do that?” He tapped his fingers on his thigh. She needed to stay in his home. It would be too hard to discover what was going on if he was worrying about her safety.
“Last night…” Amanda looked away.
“Yes, last night?”
“I think someone tried to kill me,” she said, the words tumbling over each other like a cascade of water over rocks. “I don’t know how they got the gas on, but right before the explosion, something shot into the room. It broke the kitchen window and I think ignited the gas.”
“What shot into the kitchen? What did it look like?” he demanded.
“It looked like a bolt of electricity.” Her voice trailed up at the end of the sentence, making the statement more of a question. “I know that sounds stupid, but I don’t know how else to describe it.”
“A bolt of electricity? Like from an electric rifle?”
She scrunched up her nose. “An electric rifle? Aren’t those only in comic books?”
Gio raised his hands, palms up. “You said a bolt of electricity flew into your kitchen. There was no lightning storm last night. How else would you explain it?”
She shifted on her bare feet. “Yeah, no, your explanation is as good as any,” she said, giving him a tight smile. She lowered her eyes and stared fixedly at his mouth. “Anyway, if someone did try to kill me, I shouldn’t stay here where you can get hurt.”
His mouth fell open. She wanted to protect him? After it was his theft that had probably almost gotten her killed? She didn’t know he was likely responsible, but still. No one had ever tried to protect him before. Certainly not his drunk of a father or his absent mother.
He didn’t know whether to laugh at the idea of this five-foot-something klutz of a woman thinking she could look after him, or wrap her up tight and thank all that was holy that people like her still existed in the world.
He wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger. Keeping her seemed like a much better idea than laughing. He wanted just a taste of her sweetness. It wouldn’t last. Men like him didn’t deserve such generosity. But he’d enjoy it while it lasted.
He tugged her hair. “If someone did attack you, then you definitely are not going anywhere. You will be safe here, with me.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He cupped her face, running his thumb along her cheekbone.
Amanda’s breath quickened, and heat unfurled in his gut. He wasn’t alone in the wanting, thank fuck. She wanted him, too. And later, when she was feeling better, he would have her. It would be his reward for keeping her safe.
He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “You are staying, yes?” At her nod, he stepped back, but not before brushing his lips teasingly over hers. “Good. That is settled. Now, as to the documents I want translated.”
He showed her a folder on his desk that held four pieces of paper wrapped protectively in individual plastic sleeves. “Two of these pages come from one of the first bibles printed by the Guttenberg press, so I hope old German is in your repertoire.”
“Uh…” She blinked, and crossed her arms over her chest. Her shirt pulled tight, outlining pointed nipples a moment before her arms hid them from view. “Yeah. German’s no problem.” Her confusion reflected the tightness in Gio’s own chest, and he smiled grimly. He hoped he unsettled her as much as she did him.
He pointed to another page. “This is a letter written by Alexandre Dumas to one of his lovers. My French is a little rusty.” His French was excellent, but he needed something to keep her occupied.
“And lastly is some poetry by Ovid. This document was written some time during the Renaissance, the original it was copied from lost to time.” He glanced up. Amanda had wandered to a table beneath his study’s window. She peered at an antique vase, one he was quite fond of.
Gio’s breath caught in his throat when she picked it up and held it to the light. He rounded his desk and hurried over.
“And that is very old and very valuable. Please be careful—”
He was interrupted by Amanda’s laughter. “What is so funny? That vase has been in my family for generations. It is rumored to come from—”
“Oh, it’s a beautiful vase. It’s just—” Her snickers interrupted her again. “Right here, do you see what’s written?” She pointed to a line of geometric shapes that ringed the vase below the designs of men and women frolicking. “It’s a very, very rude limerick.”
Gio could only stare, his eyes narrowing.
Amanda misunderstood his look. “Oh, it’s still a lovely piece. And I don’t think I’ll tell you what it says since that might ruin your appreciation of your family heirloom. But suffice it to say, those aren’t flowers that man is handing to that woman.”
Still chuckling softly, she placed the vase back on the table.
Something fluttered in Gio’s stomach. She had just told him she could read what until today he had always assumed were merely decorative geometric designs. Although he couldn’t read ancient languages, with his art history background he could at least recognize their alphabets. The lines she had indicated were just that. Random lines. Weren’t they? If it was writing, no one living today could read it.
“You think you can read that?” Gio asked slowly.
Her face paled and her sapphire eyes stood out in stark contrast. “Uh…”
“That vase was found on the island of Crete, but it wasn’t created by the Minoans. Or the Greeks. Archeologists say it comes from an unknown society. It is rumored to be from the lost civilization of Atlantis. If there is something written on that vase, no one should be able to read it.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, an action that almost distracted Gio from the fact that something about her wasn’t adding up. “The alphabet is…very similar to ancient cuneiform. I extrapolated from that, but I’m sure I could be wrong.”
It looked nothing like cuneiform. He tilted his head. Why was she lying? He’d thought her sweet and straightforward, but now doubts crept in.
She hurried behind his desk and sat down, pulling a yellow legal pad from the corner of the desk to rest in front of her. “I’ll get started here.” She looked up at him, eyes wide, the innocence she was trying to convey pure bullshit.
It sucked out some of his suspicion. She was crap at lying. Anyone who put on such a poor showing must not take to deception naturally.
“Shouldn’t you be out looking for leads?” she asked.
He hesitated, then nodded. She’d just given him another mystery, but it was one he couldn’t worry about now. He took one last look at her from the doorway, her raven head already bent over the papers on the desk.
He’d thought he’d read her easily. That she was as open as the proverbial book.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Amanda Sullivan than she let on.
Chapter Five
The study door snicked shut, and Amanda heaved a sigh of relief. That had been close. Life had taught her to hold her cards close to the vest, but when she was around Gio, her lips loosened.
In more ways than one.
Last night had almost killed her, and the thing she remembered most was the feel of Gio’s lips on hers. Soft yet demanding. Easy but possessive.
She pressed the pads of her fingers to those lips. Gio was a contradiction her body desperately wanted to unravel.
But he was a normie. She had a hard enough time building relationships with her fellow paranormals. With him, it would be damn near impossible.
Also, someone was trying to kill her. Not the best time to indulge in a roll in the sheets. She was more sensible than that.
Resolved, she pulled the German documents in front of her and absently scribbled down the translation. She did have more important things to worry about than her reaction to Gio. Was someone really trying to kill her? The idea seemed absurd. She was as inoffensive as a butterfly, and just about as threatening. Yet she was certain of what she had seen right before the explosion. A blue streak of electricity shooting into her kitchen.
She knew of one agent who had a talent for manipulating electricity. Chase McGovern. He had been at ARC the night she had felt someone following her through the dark archives. But if he wanted her dead, why hadn’t he killed her when she encountered him in the hallway? And how would he have turned the gas on in her kitchen?
She finished translating the bible pages and rubbed her forehead. Her head throbbed dully from the bump it had received the night before, and thoughts of a coworker trying to kill her weren’t helping. So think of something else, Amanda told herself and pulled the Dumas letter in front of her.
Gio immediately came to mind. A warm feeling settled low in her stomach, and she huffed. Damn, traitorous body. It knew all the reasons he was a bad idea. She’d told it enough times. But to hammer the point home, she looked down at her crotch. “One, he’d freak out if he knew the truth about us. Two, I have much bigger things to worry about than getting you laid. And three…”
She planted her elbow on the desk and rested her chin in her palm. “And three, he’s way out of our league.”
Gio was drop-dead gorgeous, classy and suave. She looked down at the rumpled t-shirt and sweats she wore. Some women could pull off this outfit, looking sporty and casual. She wasn’t one of them. She’d caught a glance of her reflection. She knew what she looked like. Frumpy and crazed. It took her a solid hour to look decent enough to go out in public in the morning. Gio probably rolled out of bed looking like a movie star.
Add in his obvious wealth, that sexy accent, and she didn’t stand a chance.
He was the ultimate fantasy. And while fantasies might be fun to entertain for a little while, they didn’t last.
She chewed on the cap of her pen. Gio hadn’t seemed to mind how she looked that morning, however. He’d kind of kissed her even, if a quick brush of the lips could be considered a kiss. She had thought he was flirting with her merely for form’s sake. It could almost be considered rude if a single Italian man didn’t make a play at seducing a woman.
But there were some things a man couldn’t fake, and even though she hadn’t gotten up close and personal, she thought a certain part of Gio had been interested in her this morning. She should have leaned in closer. Felt if that bulge behind his pants was hard against her belly.
She rubbed her thighs together. What if Gio was attracted to her? And what if he could be attracted to all of her? Not just her face and body, but her mind and her talents? Even her special abilities?
She huffed. That idea was absurd. And yet…some paranormals had relationships with normies. Some even married them.
“Jesus.” What was wrong with her? That knock on the head must have knocked the sense right out of her. Work first, indulge in absurd fantasies later.
She straightened in her seat and focused on the letter in front of her. It was beautiful, full of longing, to a woman who would later become Dumas’ wife.
Something niggled at the back of Amanda’s brain. She tried to draw it out but it slipped away.
Her eyes went back to the letter. A lover’s feelings always seemed more sincere to Amanda when they were written down. Words could be spoken carelessly but putting pen to paper made the communication of thoughts more contemplative, more honest.
And hot. She whistled. Alexandre was a naughty boy. Would Gio be as demanding of his lover’s attention as…
“Oh crap.” The pen fell from her fingers. Memories of the night before crowded her mind. Memories of Gio speaking French to Amanda’s nurse.
His French was fluent, flawless. Why then would he need her to translate this letter?
“Rusty, my ass,” she muttered.
Her mind ran through other inconsistencies. His sudden appearance when no insurance claim had yet been filed. His eagerness to help her, a stranger. And…oh God. That smell. That spicy smell Amanda had noticed that night in the archives. Like cloves and cinnamon. Gio’s scent.
It all made sense now. Well, more sense anyway. Gio wanted to keep her close, make her think that he wanted her. That’s what was behind his kisses. She thought they had tasted sweet? They tasted of lies. Minty, minty lies.
If he was in the ARC library that night, he must have taken the decoder. And she had handed him the key to it, glibly explaining how it worked.
So why did he still need her?
She searched his study, finding nothing except a safe hidden behind a Klimt painting. She randomly pressed buttons on the keypad, scowling each time the lights blinked red. She stomped to his bedroom to look for evidence. She was too angry for finesse. The decoder must be in that safe, but there could be other evidence that pointed to his guilt.
A leather-bound journal lay in his bedside table. She flipped through it, and her heart sank. Several pages were filled with different letter and number combinations, an obvious attempt on someone’s part to try to decipher an encrypted message.
She sat on his bed. Gio was the thief. The journal might not sway a court, but it would be enough for ARC agents to believe she hadn’t just lost the decoder. They’d have to listen to her now.
The back of her throat burned. He’d stolen the decoder, put her job at risk, and pretended to show an interest in her.
It was that last one that really burned. She should hate him. Want to throw the book at him, and laugh as he rotted in jail.
But…she didn’t. The idea of putting Gio in ARC’s crosshairs, making him a target of their retribution…it didn’t sit right.
She stood. Right or not, it had to be done.
Grabbing the journal, she went to her room and slipped on the hospital flip-flops. She hurried from the house then stopped in the driveway.
She had no money, no car, and no cellphone.
Her breath came out in angry bursts. She blinked at the moisture in her eyes and refused to let the tears falls. Just because the man had made a fool of her was no reason to cry. She may have been wrong about him, wrong to think that maybe he was the type of man who was kind and smart and sophisticated enough to understand her abilities.
But he had mistaken her too, taking her for some naïve academic. A lifetime of feeling like an outsider had made her tough. Throwing back her shoulders, Amanda marched down the long drive.
She would figure out what Gio was up to and she would get the decoder back to ARC where it belonged.
***
Amanda’s feet were killing her as she strode down the hall in ARC headquarters toward the executive offices. At least she was finally wearing her own shoes. After leaving Gio’s house, she had hitchhiked her way to her apartment and ripped through the police tape guarding her flat.
Her heart might have pounded a little too hard at that small act of civil disobedience, but it had left her feeling a little badass. Maybe sneaking into one’s own apartment wasn’t on par with what ARC agents did on a daily basis, but she’d take what confidence she could get.
Her front door had been fitted into her doorway but was easily pushed aside. She had quickly changed and packed a suitcase. Luckily, the
fire had been contained to her kitchen and living room, so water from the firefighters’ hoses hadn’t destroyed her wardrobe. Her purse hadn’t been so fortunate. Charred and soggy, the money, credit cards, and car keys within might have been damp and smelled kind of funny, but it was all still usable. She was in control of her life again.
She knocked on the door of Ray Hidrogo, an executive director of ARC. The sooner he knew about Gio, the faster ARC could recover the decoder.
Two men turned to face her as she entered. Ray’s rosy cheeks plumped in a smile and he stood from behind his desk. “Amanda, how lovely to see you. I had heard that you were out sick today.”
“I’m feeling better.” It was amazing how anger made all her aches and pains fade to the back of her awareness. She looked at the other man who scowled at her. Refusing to be intimidated, Amanda nodded. “Monsieur Chirac.”
“You are interrupting us,” Chirac said. He was the co-director of ARC and the petty man had too much control over Amanda’s job for her liking. “What do you want?”
Ray cleared his throat. “She is merely interrupting a tedious discussion about our upcoming tax audit. An interruption I am most grateful for.” He ran his hand up the back of his head. “No matter the country, the tax authorities always come for their pound of flesh. Now, what can we do for you?”
She hesitated, her eyes flickering to Chirac. His presence complicated matters. They had never gotten along and he would likely take her admission of working with Gio, no matter how briefly or how unknowingly on Amanda’s part, as proof of her disloyalty to ARC.
Or proof of her incompetence, which she would be hard-pressed to argue against. If she was so easily turned by a pretty face and a smooth tongue, perhaps she didn’t deserve to work for a secret organization.
Her zeal to bring Gio down waned. “I, uh, just wanted to know if you had any further information on the decoder. It hasn’t been found has it?” She swallowed. Wouldn’t that be lovely? That she’d been wrong about everything, including the decoder being stolen.
She understood why an ostrich might stick its head in the sand. It was comforting not seeing reality.