I fell into a quiet trance, my eyes unprepared to leave Becker, and when he ghosted a finger across the painting with an admiring smile on his face, I literally lost my breath. I know how it feels to be the focus of his devoted attention. At that moment in time, I was jealous of the painting. And then I left because being envious of a painting is ludicrous, and I’m sane enough to acknowledge that.
By Friday evening, I’m beat after a long, non-stop week. My constantly spinning mind has no doubt contributed to my exhaustion. With the monumental turn of events, the continued unease between Becker and his grandfather, the total mindfuck that is my relationship with a crooked antiques dealer, the crazy amount of sex, and the frightening fact that I’m falling in love with my boss, I feel trapped but free. Excited but apprehensive. Positive but unsure.
I make my way to the library to check in with Lucy after promising via text to do so all week. Her chirpy voice when she answers goes some way to restoring some stability in my shaking world. ‘I’m beginning to get a complex,’ she says as I settle on the couch.
‘I’m sorry,’ I sigh. ‘I’ve been so busy, and I don’t know my arse from my head at the moment.’ That’s an ironic figure of speech, since my arse is stinging after another spanking session last night – telling me exactly where it is – and my head is pounding, too, so I definitely know where that is.
‘Don’t say any more,’ she orders, and I hear the slamming of a door followed by a few scuffles in the background. ‘I’ve just got in from work. Let me get comfy.’
‘Late night in the office?’ I ask, sarcasm spilling out of me. ‘Or late night in the printing room?’
‘You’re hilarious, Eleanor,’ she says. ‘Have you heard from the police yet?’
‘No. Nothing was missing, and it’s not an emergency. Becker chased them up yesterday. But that’s not why I called.’
‘Oh? Interesting. Do I need wine for this?’
‘Yes,’ I confess. ‘I’m fucked.’
‘In the physical sense or the mental sense?’
‘Both.’
She gasps over the clashing of glass on glass. ‘Oh, sod it. I’ll drink out of the bottle. This better be juicy. I’m skipping Coronation Street for this.’
Juicy? Christ, she has no idea. I close my eyes and think hard about what I can share, the NDA materialising in my darkness, like it’s reminding me of its existence. Blinking my lids open, I think of the library and the bookshelf where I found the secret compartment. Where the map is. Or most of it. ‘He’s violating me in the most delicious ways imaginable.’
‘Eek.’
‘And he’s having extra security fitted at my flat.’
‘That’s good of him.’
‘But I keep asking him if it’s been done, and he keeps saying they’re busy.’
Lucy laughs. ‘Even I know you can get a locksmith within the hour.’
‘Exactly. So what does that mean?’
‘It isn’t hard. It means he’s fucking you and clearly enjoying it so wants you to stay.’
I shake my head. ‘I was hoping you’d say something else.’
‘What, like he must be in love with you?’ There’s amusement in her tone that fucking hurts, and I cringe as silence falls. Until Lucy breaks it. ‘Oh,’ she breathes.
‘I have a problem,’ I admit. Fixing a problem means acknowledging that there is a problem. I have a very big problem. ‘I think I’m falling for him, Lucy.’
There’s quiet for a few seconds. Quiet that drives me a little mad. I hear Lucy gulp hard, and a mental image of her holding the wine bottle at her lips invades my mind. ‘Say it,’ I push. ‘Whatever you’re thinking, Lucy, just say it.’
The connection muffles with her exhale of breath. ‘He’s dangerously good-looking, Eleanor.’
‘Do you think I haven’t noticed that, Lucy? What are you trying to say? That I’m punching above my weight?’ I bubble with resentment.
‘No.’ Her gasp of defence doesn’t lessen my annoyance. ‘If you’ll let me finish, I’m saying that you can tell a lot from a man’s looks and how he carries them. Your boss carries his looks like a weapon.’
‘What are you talking about?’ I snap, fully aware that my reaction is over the top. Especially as I know she’s right.
‘He’s a womaniser, Eleanor. You said so yourself. I’m all for you taking what you can and enjoying it, even if it’s on the risky side, but hey, risky is exciting. You just have to go in with your eyes wide open.’
I laugh. Oh, my eyes are so wide open they’re being blinded. Literally. ‘I know exactly what I’m walking into.’
‘Does he?’
I snap my mouth closed. I can’t mention the NDA. And she’d laugh if I told her, anyway. But what she doesn’t know, what she hasn’t been privy to, is how Becker and Mr H very clearly communicated that Becker Hunt’s only love will be his passion for treasure. I can’t ignore Mr H’s words about Becker: he won’t allow himself to get attached to anyone and has no sentimentality when it comes to living, breathing things.