City of Gold

by Arnold, Carolyn

  He entered through the double doors to his room. The space itself was large enough to be considered a luxurious apartment in Manhattan or even downtown Toronto for that matter. It was two levels, and a loft overlooked the sleeping and living areas. A studio apartment could fit inside his en suite alone, and his balcony had a view of the tennis court. A wall of windows extended along both levels on one side, and natural light streamed in during the day. With it being night now, the drapes had been drawn shut.

  He looked around his room. The palette for his bedroom was geared toward neutrals, all shades of whites and brown. His bed was king-size, and he’d had one that large since he was ten. He had adjusted to the dimensions, and because of that, it was hard to share with someone else. He’d been accused of being a bed hog more than once.

  He closed the doors behind him and jumped a foot. “What the—” Matthew flicked on the lights to find Cal sitting in the living area. Cal’s black skin had been almost completely camouflaged him in the darkened room.

  “Sorry, Matt,” Cal said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “What were you thinking?” Matthew loosened his tie, wondering why Daniel hadn’t mentioned Cal was up here. “What are you doing here?” Cal wasn’t dressed for the gala by any stretch of the imagination in his faded T-shirt and tattered blue jeans.

  “You know how Sophie gets feelings about things, right? Like her premonitions or whatever? Well, she’s freaking me out a bit.”

  “Is that why you didn’t come to the banquet tonight? You know, just because she has a feeling doesn’t make it fact.”

  “This time, though… I don’t know. Something is off.”

  “Are you still having nightmares?”

  Cal met his eyes. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “It’s not the first time we’ve been shot at—”

  “It’s not the bullets that have me drenched in sweat at night. It’s going over that…that…cliff. Thanks to you.” Cal pointed a finger at Matthew.

  “What are you complaining about? You’re still alive.” It was a play on a line from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, which was one of Cal’s favorite movies.

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  Matthew laughed and joined Cal on the sofa. “Tell me what happened.”

  “It’s not so much as what has happened, but Sophie feels like we’re being watched.”

  “She thinks you’re being watched?” He raised an eyebrow at his friend.

  Cal narrowed his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. Sophie does have a way with these things.”

  “I’m going to need more than that.”

  “Fine, you want more?”

  Matthew splayed his hands and gave Cal an exasperated look.

  “Sophie and I went out for dinner last night.”

  “This story is starting off exciting already.”

  “Would you cut it out? This is serious.”

  Matthew forced his face to a blank expression. “Continue.”

  “She says there was someone watching us. I never saw him.”

  “You never saw him?” A smirk lightened his expression.

  “Shut up, wiseass. Sophie did see him. She said he looked like—” Cal hesitated.

  “Like?”

  “Oh no. If I say it, you’re going to laugh. I know that much.”

  “Try me.”

  “Fine. She said the guy looked like Liam Neeson.”

  Matthew snickered.

  Cal shook his head. “See? I knew you would laugh.”

  “Are you sure Sophie hasn’t been watching too many movies?”

  “That’s what I said. I wanted to believe that’s all it was, but… What if those people from India followed us home or somehow found us?”

  “Unlikely,” Matthew said, brushing it off.

  “Yeah, unlikely but not impossible.”

  “Nothing is impossible.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  Matthew shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Never mind. Anyway, Sophie and I had a huge fight. I watched her leave and—”

  “Ah, how sweet.”

  “Can you keep quiet long enough to let me tell my story?”

  “Okay, okay.” Matthew loved how easy it was to tease his friend.

  “The same vehicle she saw him getting into the night before…well, it was parked in front of my building.”

  “Let me guess. A black SUV?”

  “I’d say more of a charcoal gray. Wait. How did you know? Have you seen one lurking around?”

  Did his friend really want his answer? He’d give it anyhow. “You say there’s a guy following you who looks menacing. A dark SUV completes the picture.”

  “Ah, so we’re back to the too-many-movies theory.”

  “I’m starting to wonder if you both have watched too many.”

  “Sure, fine, laugh it up, funny boy, but when something happens…”

  “Nothing’s going to happen.”

  “You can’t promise that, man.”

  They both fell silent for a moment, and then there was a soft rap on the door.

  -

  Chapter 3

  ROBYN WAS HAPPY TO HAVE the speech behind her. Contrary to the praise she received for public speaking, it wasn’t something she enjoyed. Her insides always jumbled into a mangle of nerves and she had to clasp her hands to calm herself. To others, she must appear as if she were cold in those situations, but in actuality, her palms were sweaty and all she could think about was stepping out of the limelight. Tonight, she’d had to address a crowd twice—one at the museum and now another one here. And she’d do this for William, or Bill, as he preferred she call him.

  She had known him since she was a teenager and he’d always accepted her as if she were his daughter. For her, this was with reservations. There was a self-serving quality about him, but she wasn’t sure if it was prejudice from all Matthew had told her over the years or her personal opinion. She never had much luck with her own parents. Her father had left before she was born and her mother had worked fifteen hours a day to keep food on the table, making Robyn a latchkey kid. As an adult, Robyn didn’t speak to her mother.

  Stepping back from the microphone, she let out a deep breath, the tension in her neck releasing with her exhale. Her body remained tender from the fall in India, even though it had happened about a month ago. She was thankful that was the worst of her symptoms. She’d pay Matthew back for pushing her over that cliff when he least expected it.

  She stopped shy of rubbing her neck. With a level of professionalism to be maintained, she didn’t need to look as if she had a headache, even if one was already blooming behind her eyes.

  The men in the room followed her every move with lascivious gazes. She smiled politely at a few with no intention or underlying implication. She was fantasizing about popping an Advil, truth be told. Her fingertips brushed the points of her earrings, and she let her arm fall to her side.

  “Bravo.” William Connor clapped. “You were absolutely spectacular, my dear. You should be very proud of yourself.”

  “Thank you. But really, it’s Mr. Barnes who made tonight possible.”

  “Yes, and speaking of Mr. Barnes…” The flicker in his eyes revealed his ego was taking the hit for the archaeologist’s apparent no-show. If only he knew that the man behind the name lived under his own roof. Sometimes carrying the secret between father and son seemed too heavy a burden.

  “He really is sorry he couldn’t make it tonight.”

  “Yes, I am sure he is,” William said coolly.

  The band played a classical waltz number, a piece of sheet music she ought to recognize by name as she’d heard it many times before. Fancy balls were a part of her chosen lifestyle. But her love, her passion, wasn’t for musical compositio
n; it was for studying ancient civilizations and the relics they left behind.

  “Miss Garcia?” A portly older gentleman extended his hand. “I would be honored if you would grant me this dance.”

  His blue eyes no longer carried the spark and vitality of a man half his age, but they were soft and sincere. If she based her assessment of him on his greeting and appearance, she’d accept that his intentions were pure, but she knew better. It didn’t matter that he neglected taking care of his physical body, the man was worth billions and had his pick from any money-hungry bimbo from Toronto to Tokyo.

  His name was Nicholas Hartman, and he came from old money. His large contributions to the museum made her somewhat obligated to grant him at least one dance. If his hand slid too low down her back, however, it would be over. She slipped her hand into his, and he smiled. He guided her to the floor with a cultured grace and took the lead.

  The song ended, and everyone applauded before the band carried on with the next melody.

  “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Hartman,” she said with a slight bow of her head.

  “Thank you, darling.” He kissed the back of her hand.

  She sensed his hesitancy to let go but was pleased when he did. He might be used to getting his way in a courtroom—and with insecure women—but Robyn didn’t fit into either category. She wouldn’t be submitting to him anytime soon.

  Now, where was Matthew? They had made eye contact during her speech, but she’d noticed him leaving part way through.

  She scanned the room. It was bad enough he didn’t attend the exhibit opening, but for him to pull a disappearing act at this point was unacceptable. As it was, she never understood how he could risk his life to make such historic discoveries and then stand quietly at the back of the room. When Matthew had decided it best to hide this side of his life from his father, though, it affected more than just him. Robyn herself found it hard to keep quiet about her own role in the acquisition.

  “Such a beautiful dedication speech.” Another man put his hand on her forearm as she worked her way through the crowd.

  “Thank you.” She smiled pleasantly, but the second her back was to him the expression faded. She’d had enough of human interaction for one evening—at least with these types of people. She did have some choice words reserved for Matthew, however.

  She headed for the staircase, certain he must be with Daniel and on the verge of another adventure. When she’d met Matthew’s eyes earlier, she’d seen that familiar spark. He could never stay put for long. His energy was only this electric when…

  Her cheeks flamed with the acknowledgment that more than one thing had this effect on him. It was best she disregard the second and more personal reason.

  Her fingertips brushed across her neckline, the light touch transporting her to a time when they were more than friends. She shook herself out of it. This was ridiculous. Their romantic relationship hadn’t worked for many reasons.

  As she reached the base of the stairs, Daniel rounded the corner with a tray of champagne in hand, clearly intending to take it upstairs with him.

  Something was definitely going on. He had two flutes and a bottle. Maybe she had jumped to conclusions about the purpose of Matthew’s determined stride. It could be in regard to the more intimate reason and not work-related at all.

  Daniel dipped his head toward her. “Miss Garcia.”

  “Good evening, Daniel. Do you know where I could find Matthew?”

  “Certainly.”

  Awkwardness sparked in the air between them. No elaboration most likely meant Matthew really did have a woman in his room. She was probably the reason he had missed the dedication, too. It should have made her want to retreat and afford him his privacy, but a rush of anger surged through her. Of all the times for him to be distracted! It wasn’t solely his hard work he was disrespecting; it was hers and Cal’s, as well. With all they’d been through to retrieve the Pandu statue, she couldn’t believe he was willing to sacrifice its celebration to an evening of cheap sex.

  She planted her fisted hands on her hips. “Where is he?”

  Daniel propped the tray in one hand and bobbed his head toward the second landing.

  “He’s in his bedroom?” she asked for confirmation.

  “Yes, Miss Garcia.”

  It was in his tone. This wasn’t about a woman. This was about Matthew trying to “protect” her from another adventure. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she released a deep breath. “You have another mission for us? For him?” she whispered.

  He remained silent and expressionless. He could’ve rivaled the Queen’s Guard at Buckingham Palace. She studied him more closely as he stood there. To others, he was a manservant simply taking drinks to his master’s suite. No one would think anything more of it, especially not William Connor. But Daniel was the hinge point from which all their excursions began. His unofficial responsibilities included researching lost treasures and legends.

  “I’m in.” She brushed past him, charging up the stairs. It would take more than a few body aches to keep her from another quest.

  -

  Chapter 4

  IAN BRIDGES USUALLY TOOK PLEASURE in knowing what most others did not. In this case, he knew that the famous treasure hunter, Gideon Barnes, was none other than the mayor’s son. And it wasn’t welcome news. An interested third-party had hired Ian to get the Pandu statue back at any cost, but with it now secured behind bulletproof glass and the high-profile identity of its discoverer, the situation had escalated, leaving him with limited options for the object’s retrieval. Sadly, murder, although it was his gifted skillset, wasn’t a service required by this employer. And bribery presented too much risk and was certain to attract undesired media attention.

  The crowd at the exhibit had thinned, leaving behind those who didn’t rank high enough in society to secure an invitation to the Connor mansion. Ian made his way toward the statue, his confidence building with each step. Yes, the situation certainly posed a challenge, but he had faith in his abilities. He wasn’t familiar with failing, and he wasn’t about to learn the lesson now.

  The statue was enclosed in a glass cube atop a four-foot-tall pedestal. A red rope with brass hardware surrounded it, encouraging people to stand a couple feet out of its reach. The area was obviously off-limits. But he still considered stretching out to touch the glass. He’d love to smear his fingerprints all over it simply because its contents were so highly esteemed. It was treated more regally than some people were, and yet when he looked at it, he saw nothing more than an ugly man in a dress. Clearly burying an item in the sand for thousands of years transformed even worthless idols into sought-after treasures. What his employer saw in it or why it was sought after in the first place wasn’t information Ian required to do his job. Whether it was to provide bragging rights to its owner or to sell it or something else, he didn’t care.

  “It’s beautiful,” a woman said. He turned in the direction of the sound and a woman in a black evening dress sidled up next to him. Her hair was a rich red and fell over her shoulders in flowing curls. Her fingers were long and adorned with rings, her wrists were slender and wrapped in silver bracelets. She also wore a silver cuff on her upper arm. Now this woman had a brand of beauty he could appreciate.

  She seemed to assess him as he did her. “Where are my manners?” She positioned her purse under an arm and extended her hand. “My name is Veronica Vincent.”

  “Ian.” He took her hand and was certain to make eye contact as he shook it. While some women might find the move too familiar and bold, this was the territory upon which he loved to tread. Eyes truly were the windows to the soul.

  “Just Ian? Or do you have a last name, too?” Her seductive smile curved one side of her mouth slightly higher than the other. With it, her eyes narrowed marginally. Oh yes. This woman welcomed the attention and reciprocated his attraction.

 
“My friends just call me Ian.” He had to keep some anonymity. His line of work didn’t afford him the luxury of screwing up because he wanted to get laid.

  “All right. Mysterious. I like it.” She slipped her arm through his.

  They stood like that for a while, him watching her, her watching the statue.

  “You think that thing is beautiful?” He’d come to learn that women found a controversial subject more entertaining than one that had him acting the yes-man.

  “Absolutely.” She pried her eyes from the robed sculpture, letting them drift to meet his. “I take it you do not?” There was a small hitch in her eyebrows, and he knew he was in.

  He shook his head. “Not in the least. They do say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, of course, but I am starting to wonder if we’re looking at the same thing.”

  She pouted. He was scoring gold here.

  “And while this statue is the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen, you, on the other hand, are very stunning.” He threw her an arrogant smile. He was due for a night of blowing off steam, and there was no better place to clear the mind than between the legs of a beautiful woman.

  -

  Chapter 5

  MATTHEW OPENED THE DOOR AND ROBYN burst into the room, Daniel trailing her as he tried to keep up.

  “What are you do—”

  “Matthew, don’t you dare ask me what I’m doing here. If anyone should be asking questions, it’s me. Why didn’t you go the exhibit opening? And why did you leave during the middle of my speech?” Her eyes were ablaze, and her cheeks were flushed.

  She was so gorgeous when she was worked up. “You know, you’re so—”

  “I swear to God, Matthew, if you say that I’m pretty when I’m angry one more time…”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “Fine.”

  “Fine what?”

  He smiled at her. “Fine, I won’t say it one more time.”

  “You’re such a damn brat.” She playfully shoved him.

  He kept his balance. There was no sense in defending himself. He couldn’t help it. Frustration gave birth to anger, and anger ignited her fiery nature. And that turned him on. It was a game he was rigged to lose. She had made it clear that they fared better as friends. He just wished that she dated more often, as he did—if you could call bedding women around the world dating—but then he realized that every time she did date, he became jealous as hell.