City of Gold

by Arnold, Carolyn

  “And?” he prodded.

  “When we were pulling away, I saw him get into a black SUV.”

  The laugh erupted on its own.

  She narrowed her eyes at him, and he could almost feel the daggers landing in his skin. “That’s it, I’m outta here,” she clipped. “I have a busy day ahead of me. Houses don’t sell themselves.”

  He reached for her hand, but she swatted him away and kept moving.

  “Babe, are you sure you haven’t watched too many movies?” he called after her.

  “Shove it, Cal.”

  The door slammed behind her.

  Cal wanted to punch a wall. His fist was balled and ready, but somehow, he had mustered the control not to go through with it. Self-preservation, maybe. Instead, he drew back the blind and watched her drive off. He was about to retreat from the window when he saw a dark-colored Escalade parked on the other side of the street. And a man was silhouetted behind the wheel.

  -

  Chapter 2

  THE GALA WAS A BLACK-TIE affair, and according to his father, anybody who’s anybody was going to be there. Matthew recognized it for what it was: an opportunity for the prestigious to measure and compare their financial portfolios and charitable donations. Growing up with his father, he was well acquainted with the subject matter, but he refused to let that sort of thing define him.

  The event tonight was, in actuality, meant to celebrate a relic acquired by the Royal Ontario Museum—a certain artifact that Matthew had taken part in obtaining. While the statue would remain in the museum, encased behind bulletproof glass and security systems, his father, William Connor, had insisted that the banquet take place in the family home. Not that the house fell within the regular classification of a “family home.” It was a 26,000-square-foot castle located in Toronto’s affluent Bridle Path neighborhood and was capable of accommodating a few hundred people.

  Matthew often thought that his grandparents would roll in their graves if they knew what their son had done with his inheritance. They had been salt-of-the-earth people who put more stake in humanity than the almighty dollar. His grandmother’s mentality was that she had grown up with little and it hadn’t hurt her. As a result, instilling culture in her children trumped materialism. Matthew’s father had failed to grasp the lesson, though. He flaunted the palace any time he had the opportunity. When he didn’t have a reason, he invented one.

  While Matthew may have hunted treasure, it wasn’t to line his own pockets; it was to give back to humanity. He subscribed to a utilitarian mindset, so whatever he found was donated to museums for the world to enjoy. His finder’s fees were sufficient to cover any expenses involved, but not much more. He assigned a larger portion to Cal and Robyn than he did to himself. It was Daddy’s money that funded his expeditions, but it wasn’t as if the family accounts were going to dry up anytime soon. Interest on his investments alone could fund many families.

  Matthew believed his mother would be proud of his dignity and worldview, but he’d have to take that on faith. She’d lost the battle to breast cancer ten years ago. Where was Daddy’s precious money then? It had been powerless against the malignant growth. In fact, that was probably why Matthew recognized the limitations of wealth. It didn’t have the ability to breathe life into a soul. Cash was a tool—nothing more, nothing less.

  Matthew finished tying his Windsor knot and gave himself one last look in the mirror. A strand of dark hair shifted, revealing the scar on his forehead, a souvenir from his most recent expedition dodging bullets through the jungle of India. He brushed his hair back to inspect the wound more closely. It was barely noticeable.

  Dressed in a fitted Ralph Lauren tuxedo and black Hugo Boss high-polished shoes, he’d still fall short of his father’s expectations. His face was cloaked in a five-o’clock shadow, which suited him more than a clean shave. If that wasn’t enough to wind up his old man, the necktie would finish the job.

  Matthew caught his own arctic-blue eyes reflecting back at him. “Well, Gideon, you’re looking pretty dapper.”

  Gideon Barnes was the fake name he used to give credit to his finds. It was a secret among less than a handful of people—people he trusted with his life. If his father found out what he really did to keep busy, he’d likely be cut out of the will. If that happened, he’d lose the necessary backing to support his passion. No, it was best that his father believe that he was an archaeologist, not a treasure hunter. And he had the necessary schooling to back that story.

  He had majored in archeology and had even obtained his doctorate. His knowledge of history had proved useful out in the field on many occasions. Even with his esteemed education, his father had preferred that he become a doctor or a corporate manager of some sort. It would’ve been ideal for William if Matthew followed in his father’s footsteps and entered the political arena one day, but witnessing William’s stressful climb up the proverbial ladder was enough to squash any drive for power and dominance. William had barely survived two heart attacks and he was turning fifty-three this November.

  Yet, his father’s Achilles’ heel was his unquenchable lust for wealth, so he kept pushing. There would never be enough. It didn’t matter that the family home had been paid for in cash at the sum of thirty million dollars and that their worth was well into the billions.

  Matthew sighed, straightened his spine, and sprang down the winding staircase, his steps light. When he was a child, he used to slide down the walnut banister whenever his father wasn’t around. Lucky for his younger self, that was often. A mischievous part of him wondered how people would react if he did so tonight. It was tempting to see how worked up William would get over it, but he resisted.

  The main level was filled with the droning hum of multiple conversations converging. His father’s associates, who were mostly strangers to Matthew, flitted about in their designer suits and gowns. The women were all a little too perfect to be natural. Their foreheads had clearly been peeled back and tightened, and their skin stretched, appearing almost painful when they smiled. Their lips were full and their breasts plump and too large for their slender frames. The majority were blondes. The lot of them could have come off an assembly line.

  Most were trophy wives who entered on the arms of men old enough to be their fathers, and in some cases, grandfathers. Most of the men in his father’s circles were on their second, third, or fourth marriages. To them, nuptials were an arrangement of convenience and manipulation, to provide the appearance of stability.

  As Matthew wove through the crowd, the guests’ myriad colognes tickled his nose, creating a heady elixir. He put on a pleasant front, offering gentle nods of greeting and subtle smiles to anyone who caught his eye.

  “Matthew, sir?” Lauren Hale, his father’s head housekeeper, held out a tray of champagne. She served along with a hired wait staff.

  “I think I’m going to need one.” He took a flute. “Thank you.”

  “You always talk like that, but you still have a good time.” She gave a small curtsy before leaving to serve the guests.

  Matthew watched her move through the crowd. Maybe one day, his father would get over himself enough to acknowledge the feelings that existed between them. But even if his father did come around, Lauren was too nice a person for his father anyway.

  Speaking of the old man…

  Matthew let instinct guide him into the grand room. With its coffered ceilings, glass chandeliers, marble floors, and tall pillars, it resembled the lobby of a ritzy hotel more than a place of residence.

  He heard his father before he saw him. His timbre always boomed over the crowd. William was conversing with a couple that passed Matthew polite smiles as he approached. His father was what most would consider handsome. He had a head of silver hair and electric blue eyes, and he kept himself in shape with regular exercise and a proper diet. Despite living most of his life in a suit, he never quite filled them out, even tho
ugh they were always designer and specifically tailored for his body.

  “Son, how nice of you to finally join us.”

  His father said finally as if forever had come and gone. It was a jab at the fact that Matthew had bowed out of attending the official event at the museum. The surrounding guests carried on with their conversations as if they hadn’t heard him, but Matthew knew they had. No one could not hear that bellow.

  “There’s nowhere else I’d rather—”

  His father gripped Matthew’s shoulder tight, cutting off his words, and leaned in, bringing with him the smell of whiskey and cigar smoke, the latter being strictly a social vice. “It would have been nice if you cleaned yourself up a little. And no bowtie?”

  If William wanted to embarrass him, he’d have to try harder. Matthew cut a glance to the couple, and they excused themselves.

  “Why did you have to do that?” William’s voice was only slightly lower than before.

  “You know I don’t like bowties.” And so began another painful attempt at conversation with his father. Why he even tried was beyond him. Except for their genetic similarities and the fact they had both loved Matthew’s mother, the two of them had nothing in common. It was what made it easier to think of his father as William as opposed to Dad.

  “It’s not about what you like, or don’t like, it’s about—”

  “Yes, I know. Appearance.” Matthew drained the rest of his champagne. “But like you said, at least I showed up.”

  William’s jaw tightened, and his lips pressed into a straight line. “As long as you—”

  “Yes, Father, as long as I live under your roof.”

  “Are you mocking me?”

  “I don’t know, William, what do you think?”

  “I’ve told you to call me Dad,” he ground out.

  The ensuing eye contact simmered. It wasn’t as though Matthew needed to live in this place. So why did he still bother? Did he actually believe he might develop a bond with the man? It hadn’t happened in twenty-eight years, so why would one form now?

  Lauren came by then, and without taking his gaze off his old man, Matthew exchanged his empty flute for a fresh one. He took a swallow of the bubbly liquid, and his mind cautioned his ego to slow down and not allow his father to have such control over him.

  William waved Lauren away and gestured to Matthew’s temple. “What happened to your face? How do you manage to always cut yourself up? You’re an archaeologist for crying out loud.”

  “For your information, that happened a month ago. It’s great to know that you are paying attention, Dad.”

  “I’ve always taken care of you.”

  Matthew glanced around. This wasn’t the time or the place. While it was true that William had taken care of him materially, Matthew would have preferred his company to a guilt offering. It was just one reason why their relationship had always been strained.

  “You really want to get into this right—” He turned back to his father only to realize the man had left and was now positioned behind a microphone.

  This night couldn’t end fast enough. He downed the champagne, his mind on the next adventure, knowing that whatever and wherever it would be, it would take him away from William.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I want to thank you all for coming to celebrate this monumental find.” William paused to soak in the enviable applause. He definitely had a way of extorting the response he wanted.

  After the clapping died down, he continued. “The Pandu statue is unquestionably one of the greatest discoveries of the twenty-first century. We are indebted to those who brought the Pandu here for us to appreciate.”

  The statue was suddenly projected behind him on a large screen, the introduction to a slideshow presentation.

  Matthew ran his hand along his jawline as he scanned the room. For the most part, everyone’s eyes were on William. All except for a few wandering and lustful gazes that traveled over him. A brunette, who appeared to have reached drinking age last week, sucked on her finger, the implication obvious.

  Matthew returned his attention to the podium, even though it made him nauseated to listen to William speak about his discovery. If the man had any idea that it was because of his son—and his son’s two best friends—that this celebration was even possible, it might give him his third heart attack.

  “If you have any questions about the Pandu, I am certain that the museum curator, Miss Robyn Garcia, would be happy to answer them. You can also ask my son, Matthew Connor”—he extended his hand toward Matthew—“who is an archaeologist.”

  Despite the twist in his gut, Matthew lifted his glass in response, purely out of etiquette.

  “Yes, well, without further pomp and circumstance, Miss Robyn Garcia.” William stepped to the side, clapping, and Robyn joined him on the podium.

  It was the first time this evening that Matthew saw her. How he had missed her, even in a crowd, was remarkable. Matthew let out a deep breath at the sight of her.

  She wore a black evening gown that complemented her tanned complexion. Her long, dark hair was straightened and slicked behind her shoulders and left to drape over her bare upper back. The dress was floor length with a slit on the left side that reached midthigh. Beads that sparkled like diamonds covered the bodice, and the fabric was attractively gathered where it cupped her breasts. She’d paired the gown with diamond earrings and bangles.

  Robyn positioned herself behind the microphone and let her eyes trace over the crowd. If she was nervous about public speaking, it wasn’t evident. They met each other’s eyes, and her lips curved upward slightly. He was certain his mouth was gaping open and his expression resembled that of a goofy teenaged boy with a crush. It was a lot easier to see her as an equal when she was wearing khakis and boots, her shirt stained with sweat and her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail.

  Robyn gestured to the screen behind her. “It truly is a remarkable gift we’ve been given. Thank you to William Connor for extending this celebration to his home.” She clapped, encouraging everyone to follow suit. Even Matthew found himself putting his hands together.

  William dipped his head in silent acknowledgment and then waved, implying that it was no big deal.

  And really, it wasn’t. Lauren and Daniel did all the hard work. Lauren’s primary charge was keeping the house tidy, and Daniel was the butler and property manager. At the end of the day, everything was their responsibility.

  Speaking of Daniel, there was no sign of him. That was strange because he was the one who had led them to India in the first place. He was Matthew’s aid when it came to researching and picking expeditions. Maybe Daniel working for both father and son wasn’t the ideal situation, but it was what it was.

  Robyn continued. “The Pandu is believed to date back to the third century. If you joined us at the museum earlier, this isn’t news to you, but the sacrifices that Gideon Barnes made to bring this to us are significant.”

  “Is that why he’s not here tonight?” a man in the crowd called out. If Matthew remembered right, his name was Jacob.

  No one was looking at him, yet Matthew felt under a microscope. Where was Lauren with more champagne? He always felt uncomfortable in these situations and was impressed by Robyn’s restraint in not letting her eyes drift back to him. She was a pro.

  “Mr. Barnes regrets that he was unable to be here tonight, but he sends his love and appreciation.”

  A man standing next to Matthew bumped his elbow. “The guy never shows up for his own contributions. If it weren’t for the artifacts and some pictures, I’d doubt his existence.”

  “He might value his privacy,” Matthew said. And that statement wasn’t far from the truth. As for the pictures, Matthew had hired a man to be the face of Gideon Barnes, but it was to get his father’s backing, nothing more.

  Robyn went on, providing more backgroun
d on the Pandu. His mind wandered as she spoke. He was ready for the next mission. Time was too precious to sit around basking in past accomplishments. Life was about seizing the moment.

  Matthew looked to the doorway and noticed Daniel standing off to the right. Daniel’s Norwegian gray eyes were locked on him.

  “Excuse me,” Matthew whispered as he weaved through the mass of people to Daniel. Matthew handed his empty glass to the man.

  “Refill, sir?”

  Matthew directed Daniel to move down the hall and out of sight of their guests. “That’s not why I’m here, and you know it. You have something. What is it?”

  Daniel considered their surroundings before responding. “One of the greatest legends, sir.”

  Matthew’s heart palpitated, a natural and habitual occurrence when the prospect of a new adventure came calling.

  The two men shuffled farther from the entrance to the grand room.

  “And you think it’s worth checking out?” Matthew asked, his voice low.

  Daniel nodded. “Absolutely. You will change the world with a find like this one.”

  The guests in the other room laughed and clapped. He then heard his father’s closing words encouraging everyone to drink and have fun. After a final round of applause, the music began, meant to inspire the guests to dance.

  “In five minutes, make your way upstairs,” Matthew whispered to Daniel. “I’d like that refill after all.” Matthew rushed up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. It sounded like this quest had his name all over it. Daniel had said it was one of the greatest legends and capable of changing the world. What could it be? A precious object that would alter the way people viewed the world? Change what society knew about the beginning of time, maybe? Rock the foundation of established religion?