But that challenge becomes harder when my phone pings with a message from Becker.
Can you grab me the 2001 (T-W) file? Third shelf up, second row behind the door x
My eyes flick up to the shelf he’s stated, the shelf with the secret compartment, and butterflies erupt in my tummy. Goddamn me for the thrilling feel of adrenalin that immediately starts to course through my veins. I should have told him that I know where the map’s hidden. But then I remind myself why I haven’t. It’s his secret. A personal one. Like that secret room, the one where he masterfully chipped away at a lump of marble, producing a piece of art. The fake piece of art that he tricked Brent Wilson into paying a whopping fifty million for so he can search for the real treasure without being tailed. Except Becker’s vowed his search is over. Which makes all the effort he went to in order to execute his master plan a complete waste of time. It seems like a bit of a shame. Doesn’t that lost treasure deserve to be found?
I’m still pondering that a few minutes later, spinning my phone in my hand, when it starts ringing. Lucy’s name flashes up on my screen, and I quickly answer to distract me from more inappropriate thoughts.
‘Hey.’ I drop to the couch and tidy the pile of files in front of me, hearing loud panting. ‘Are you running?’
‘Walking fast,’ she huffs. ‘I have an hour to find an outfit.’
‘What for?’
‘Wednesday night. We’re going out.’
‘We are?’
‘Yes.’ Her answer leaves no room for refusal.
‘Okay.’ I don’t argue. I could do with a drink. Or twenty.
‘I might even go for tits and legs.’
‘Only one,’ I laugh. ‘You can’t break your own rule.’ I keep my eyes on the pile of files before me, resisting the enticement of the forbidden bookshelf in the corner of the library.
‘I feel like living on the edge. You should try it.’
I laugh out loud. Oh, she has no idea. My amused chuckle drowns out the voice in my head a little, the curious, demanding one telling me to dive into that secret compartment again. So I laugh louder, throwing my head back.
‘All right,’ Lucy says, undoubtedly looking at her phone with a wrinkled brow. ‘It isn’t that funny.’
My laughter dissipates. ‘Sorry,’ I sniff, pulling myself together and straightening my blouse along with my face. She blows an exhausted breath down the line, making a harsh crackling sound in my ear. ‘You still walking fast?’ I ask.
‘No, I broke out into a sprint four sentences ago.’
‘Why?’
‘Loose Knickers is in the office with Mark, and I’m not.’
‘Ohhh,’ I breathe, my eyes pulling to that damn bookshelf again.
‘Hey, you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ My reply is automatic, and I conclude quickly that it’s also the truth. I really am fine. More than fine. There’s no need to expand on that. Actually, there is. I’m hopelessly in love with the man who broke into my apartment, forged a sculpture, and meticulously carved out a plan to trick his arch-enemy into buying it. The one who he suspects is responsible for his parents’ deaths. I inwardly laugh. It sounds obscene in my head, too.
‘Looking forward to our night out,’ I say instead.
‘Me too. I’ll call you.’ She hangs up, and I get to my feet quickly before I can allow my thoughts to run wild again. Problem is, they’re not running wild. They’re simply summing up my reality. My crazy, wild reality.
I stare down at the pile of red files before me, my eyeballs beginning to ache from the effort it’s taking me not to look at that bookshelf. And my brain is beginning to ache with my constant screaming demands not to. My foot starts tapping, my thumbnail finding its way to my mouth so my teeth can gnaw on it. When my phone pings in my hand, all of my nervous actions stop dead in their tracks.
You’ve just breached clause 3.7. Strike 1 x
Clause 3.7. Answer a text within five minutes. Strike 1? What’s he suggesting? Three strikes and I’m out? Peeking over my shoulder, I eye the bookshelf with the suspicion it deserves. Get the file. That’s all. Pretend it’s just like any other bookcase in the room. I’m not giving myself enough credit. I can control my curiosity. On a confident nod of my head, I march over to the bookcase, my eyes scanning for the file I need. I find