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My tummy flutters with nerves that befuddle me. He looks peaceful now, at ease and stable. It throws me. I should be relieved that he’s finally sharing his heartbreak with me, but while there’s gratitude, there’s a massive cloud of apprehension fogging it.
I watch him as he studies what I assume to be a photograph of his mother. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispers to himself, and then he looks at me. The hurt in his eyes nearly knocks me from the chair to my arse, and I realise that statement was meant for me. ‘Just the thought of not having you around feels unbearable.’ His face twists, like he’s pissed off that he’s found himself thinking like that, let alone feeling like it.
This should spike the most incredible sense of satisfaction in me. But it doesn’t. Becker Hunt prides himself on being impenetrable. He’s a lone wolf. Lets no one get close to his heart in an extreme attempt to prevent himself from getting hurt, to stop him from experiencing the same devastation that his father did when he lost his mum. To let nothing get in the way of his mission to find that sculpture. It would be easier for him to walk away from me, rather than deal with these feelings that have caught him off guard. It would be easier for him to let me go and continue his search for the sculpture. I thought he’d turned a corner, come to terms with me and what’s evolved between us, but seeing his turmoil, seeing the despair on his face, makes me realise that accepting this is a constant challenge for him.
‘I feel like you’ve performed a smash and grab on my heart, princess.’ Becker pulls his glasses off and chucks them on his desk, along with the picture, before taking his palms to his face and rubbing furiously. ‘You’ve proper screwed me over. You weren’t part of my plan.’
‘And you weren’t part of mine, either.’ It’s true. There have been plenty of times I could have walked away – and sometimes did – but Becker always brought me back round, or simply brought me back. It’s instinctual. For both of us. Like a magnetic force keeping us close. I’m so over fighting with what nature intends. And it clearly intends that we be together. No matter who he is and the secrets he has to tell, I’m supposed to be here with him.
His face appears from behind his palms. ‘I have a question for you,’ he says, startling me.
A question for me? Lord, I could think of a thousand for him. ‘What?’ I ask warily.
He points to his secret room, indicating to the place where he carved the forged treasure. ‘Do you love me any less?’
‘No.’ My answer topples past my lips with not a shred of hesitation, and he visibly loosens up in his chair.
‘I’m still me, princess,’ he whispers. ‘I realise this is a lot for you to take on board, but you need to always remember one thing. The most important thing.’
I don’t ask what that is. I already know, but he tells me anyway.
‘I love you.’
I nod mildly. I never doubted it. I’ve been corrupted for love. He must know that nothing will chase me away. As long as he gives me his all, I’m going nowhere. All of him, all of his secrets. Beneath his confident outer layer is a scared boy. A man who dreads losing anyone close to him, so he’s always kept himself emotionally detached and worshipped inanimate objects instead, and given no time to anything that could make him waver in his determination to find what he’s looking for.
And, God, if all that doesn’t make me love him even more.
I stand and wander over to him, feeling the tug between us getting stronger the closer I get. He pushes away from his desk in his chair and pats his lap. ‘Jump on.’
Offering a small smile, I sit on his lap and rest my back against his chest, melding myself to him on a sigh. Strong arms come around me and hold me tightly, his face disappearing into my neck. ‘I’ve been searching for that sculpture for years, Eleanor. But I’ve found something more precious. More valuable. Something I want to cherish more, admire more, love more.’ He squeezes me. ‘I found you. And you’re far more important than a piece of stone.’
This moment in time. This is magic. The fact that all of our turmoil and conflicting feelings were worthwhile. That I have something to show for it after going through so much. I have Becker. And he has me. It’s a win–win, but something else is frightening me now. He wants revenge, not by hurting anyone, but by finding what his father searched for and what both his parents died for. It’s like a strange kind of peace-finding mission. I’m scared he’ll never be able to move forward, get on with his life with me, until he finds what his whole family has searched for. Everything he’s done to this point would be meaningless if he gives up now. I understand the deep part of him that needs to find that treasure or find out if it even exists. Not wants to but needs to. But I love him too much to risk losing him. Like his father lost his mother, like his granddad lost his son . . . like Becker lost his parents. While he’s willing to put himself in the thick of danger, he’s not willing to expose me to it. And that’s another reason why he’s stopped.
