Love, Artifacts, and You by Sarah Ready

18

Andrew

I’m backin my office in NYC, towering over the city, with the glint of the Chrysler Building in the distance. It’s been three days since I left Romeo. I’d thought I’d known pain and loss before. Unfortunately I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about.

It’s time to retire. Get out of business, buy a boat, and go live on a beach somewhere far, far away. No people, no newspapers, no internet, and no artifacts.

No reminders of Emma.

I look up as Dom strides in. He has on his favorite striped navy suit and he has a bounce in his step.

“Andrew,” he says in greeting. He’s entirely too chipper and jovial.

I sigh.

He walks to the bar and pulls out tonic from the fridge and grabs a glass. He looks around, like he’s lost his keys, and scratches his head.

“Second shelf,” I say. “When will you learn how to find things that are right in front of your nose?”

Dom gives me a sardonic look and pulls the gin from the second shelf. “Interesting question. I’d hoped the latest news would’ve improved your mood.”

I look to the side. He must mean his communication with Van Cleeve. The Castletons have no lawsuit in the works and neither do we. There is a shaky, distrustful truce in effect.

“The Dutch masters collection went for twelve million,” he says.

Ah. Of course, that’s why he’s here. I’d forgotten there was an auction today. I shake my head. There’s no reason for me to stay a partner. I now realize that Emma was my only reason for pursuing this career.

What I actually want, what I needed, was her by my side, somewhere at a dig site, with a passel of kids. I hunch over to disguise the sharp pain in my chest.

“I want you to buy me out,” I say. “There’s no benefit to me remaining partner.”

Dom casually walks over and leans against my desk. I expected a little more a reaction, but he just shrugs. “Your notoriety hasn’t been all bad. This week we’ve been getting more attendance at our auctions. I think the press is increasing our company’s name recognition.”

Dom reaches over and flips through the papers on my desk. They’re rough drawings of a plan for an educational dig site and museum. I put my hand over them and move them to the other side of the desk.

“To answer your question,” he says, “maybe I’ll start finding things right in front of my nose when you do.” He lifts his glass to me in a sardonic toast and takes a sip.

I give him a flat stare. He shrugs and takes another sip.

There was no point in keeping my past from Dom any longer. He now knows everything that happened to me in the years before we met. He also knows what happened with the explosion and Emma’s decision to choose her father over my safety.

A sharp pain hits me and I close the door on that thought.

“I heard from our contact in Mexico.”

I perk up. We contacted a few security professionals we know and they set out a trace to find the man who detonated the cavern.

“And?”

The last I’d heard, they’d tracked his credit card purchases at gas stations and hotels.

He’d been driving south into Mexico.

Dom nods. “He wasn’t the most savory character. He ran into some trouble at a border bar. Met the end of a knife. Apparently, he was flashing around wads of cash and the locals got greedy.”

I glance at Dom and raise my eyebrows.

He holds up his hands. “Karma catches us all eventually.”

Dom sets his glass down on my desk and stands. “I’ll buy you out. I like money and refusing to buy you out is like refusing the lottery.”

I swallow and then lean back in my chair. There’s no satisfaction or relief, just a cold numbness. Almost the same feeling I had before leaving for Romeo. Then, Dom told me that Van Cleeve had proposed to Emma. I used that as an excuse to go after her.

Now, I don’t have an excuse.

Yesterday, I read the retraction of Emma and Justin’s engagement. Apparently, she’s not marrying him after all. But there’s still the fact that she knew that I was trapped in the cavern. She knew.

But does it matter? I want to say it does. But honestly, it scares me that it doesn’t. Not really. I love her just as much. I want her just as much. I want to get down on my knees in front of her and beg her to have me. Maybe she didn’t come because of the news articles, or because she was scared or confused. I don’t know. I’m being torn apart inside from the desire to run to her and beg her to have me and the fear that she’ll leave me again. In the dark.

Except I’m in the dark right now, aren’t I?

I rub at my chest and try to ignore Dom pacing in front of my desk. Finally he stops and looks at me.

“I haven’t seen you this bad since Cartagena. You look like hell,” he says.

“Thanks. Appreciate the candor.”

“You’re welcome.” He takes another swallow of his drink, then, “By the way, I have enough evidence on the Castletons to destroy them. The mine. The explosion. There’s a paper trail a mile wide. Say the word. We can destroy them.”

My jaw clenches as I think about what destroying Emma would look like.

“I never knew what drove you. Now I do. Let’s finish this. You can finally get what you’ve worked so long for. What you’ve always wanted.” Dom holds out a hand and waves it in the air as if a buffet of revenge is spread out before him. He smiles at me with a hard glint in his eyes, like he’s looking forward to their destruction.

Inside, I rear back from the image, from the thought of hurting Emma, or yes…even her father.

“I told you to leave them alone,” I growl. “Touch them and I will wring your neck. Are we clear?”

Dom steps back and smirks. His entire demeanor changes and his smirk transforms into a grin, as if he’s just found a Van Gogh in an attic.

What the…?

“Perfectly clear.” He looks down at his glass and stares at the ice cubes as if they hold the answers to the mysteries of universe. Then he looks up at me and pins me with a shrewd gaze, the one he uses when he’s negotiating. I stiffen and narrow my eyes on him.

“What?”

“I’ll buy you out of the partnership on one condition.”

I sit up straight. He’s shifted the conversation, but I like where it’s gone. If he buys me out, I’ll head south, find a beach and a boat. A deserted, lonely stretch of land.

“What’s your condition?” I ask.

“You watch a news interview that aired last night from start to finish. I can pull it up right now. If you still want to sell after seeing it, then so be it.”

I stare at him in consternation. This seems too easy. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Just sit here and watch it.”

I nod and open up my computer and the internet browser. “Fine. Deal.”

He types in a big network interviewer and Emma’s name. My skin prickles. “No.” I don’t want to sit here and watch a national interview with Emma. I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle seeing her face.

Dom looks at me and back at the link. “It’s just an interview. I’ve never known you to be scared.”

I stare at the screen.

“I’ll leave you. Talk to you tomorrow,” he says. He walks from the room with his glass.

I don’t look up as he closes the door. Instead I stare at the interview title: Emma Castleton Tells All.

An icy dread spreads over me. I don’t need to see this. Apparently, Dom thinks if I’m angry enough, I’ll want to keep making money, keep building toward even more revenge. He really doesn’t want me to leave. I sigh and pull my eyes from the screen.

I wonder exactly what Emma had to say. Does she talk about how betrayed she felt? Does she mention what we had? Or is it all business? Is she attempting to regain her standing in the field?

My eyes stray back to the link. I sit another five minutes, not thinking, just looking.

Finally, I swear and hit the link.

A video screen opens.

My first view of Emma feels like a fist to the gut. She’s in a soft blue dress, her copper hair flows around her in waves, and her freckles stand out under the lights of the camera. She looks innocent and beautiful. Like the girl next door. There’s no way that the whole nation won’t fall under her spell and be howling for my blood. I clench my hands into fists and calm my breathing. I can’t tear my eyes away from the screen.

The interview begins and Emma gives a shy smile. Her cheeks stain with a light blush. There are some initial light-volley questions to get the interview started. At first Emma stutters, and stumbles through her responses. But it’s endearing and soon she’s relaxed.

“I hear you recently made a new discovery? A Viking settlement in upstate New York.” The interviewer, a reporter famous for his tête-à-têtes gives an overly toothy smile.

Emma’s eyes brighten and a wide grin crosses her face. I lean forward and take in a sharp breath. She’s so beautiful when she smiles.

“Not just me. Andrew Carmichael and I worked together on the find.” She smiles shyly at the camera.

I stare, stunned, waiting for the inevitable interview-style evisceration. Why did she do that? I attributed one hundred percent of the find to her in the documentation. She didn’t ever need mention me.

“Oh yes. Let’s talk about Andrew Carmichael. There’s been some interesting reports about him. What do they say? That he spent years maliciously sabotaging your career?” The interviewer leans forward, like he smells blood.

My stomach sinks. Here it comes. I turn my face away from the screen, back toward the window.

Emma gives a tinkling laugh. I jerk and look back at her. The male interviewer is enthralled and I have the urge to reach through the screen and punch him in the face.

“Would I be working with Andrew on a project if he did?” She gives the interviewer a condescending shake of her head, like he should know better than to ask silly questions.

I stare at her, enthralled. What is she doing?

“But surely there’s some truth to the reports of his actions. He has a past.”

Emma tilts her head, then slowly nods.

The reporter smiles in satisfaction. “So tell us, what did Andrew Carmichael do?”

I realize that my hands are starting to cramp, so I slowly release my clenched fists. The blood rushes back into my fingers.

“Well,” says Emma, and she leans forward, as if she’s about to share a secret. “This is hard to say.”

“Go on.”

My heart thunders in my chest.

“When I was twelve, I fell into a swollen river on one of my father’s digs. I was drowning. Andrew dove in and pulled me out. He saved my life.”

A sharp, painful exhale leaves my lungs. What is she doing?

“Then, when I was seventeen, our camp was attacked by a violent militia. Andrew didn’t think of his own safety, he saved my life, at great personal cost.”

I stare at Emma, transfixed. She’s looking straight at the screen. It feels like she’s looking at me.

“You ask what Andrew did?” she says. “He saved me. Again and again. He’s the best man I’ve ever known.”

She’s still looking at the camera, directly at me. I see the stars on her face and the sun in her eyes. I lift my hand and brush it over the screen.

I’ll be. Dom didn’t want to push me back to revenge, he’s being his shrewd, conniving self and pushing me back to Emma.

The interviewer clears his throat and draws Emma’s attention back to him. I curse him for distracting her.

“That’s not how the news articles tell the story,” he says.

She turns to him and lifts a delicately arched brow. “Hmm. Do you believe everything you read in the news?” She smiles conspiratorially at him.

The interviewer chuckles in surprise. “Touché, Miss Castleton. So, will you and Mr. Carmichael be working on more projects together? Can we expect more great finds?”

She smiles and her eyes crinkle, but I catch a hint of sadness in her expression. “There’s nothing more in the world that I’d like better.”

I sit, stunned, as the interview continues. The interviewer asks her about the bankruptcy, the fraudulent find, her dad’s health—all the hot button topics, but Emma dances circles around him.

There’s a warmth in my chest, and I realize that I was wrong, the darkness wasn’t back, the light was just clouded over. I’m having a hard time pulling in a breath. She’s incredible.

“Anything else you’d like to say?” asks the interviewer as he wraps up.

Emma nods and places her hands in her lap. “Yes. About our recent find.”

“Go on.”

“It’s a beautiful Viking poem, from a husband to his wife.”

“Romantic. Would you care to recite some of the lines?”

She nods, then twists her hands together. She stares into the camera again. And now I know, she is looking at me. She begins in a quiet voice that’s barely audible in the microphone. “I love you so much that even fire seems cold. Kiss me, my love. Remember me. I remember you.”

Suddenly, I stand and push back my chair. It skids across the floor.

“Wow. Those Vikings were romantic.”

Emma nods and blushes. “If you want to learn more, you’ll have to come to Romeo.”

The interview begins to close, music cues in and the camera pans out. I don’t wait to see the end. I sprint toward the door. I’ve got to go find my lost treasure.