Page 76 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

“You’re relentless when you want something. Thorough. Detail oriented.” He pushed off the wall and came closer. “You would’ve found your lost tomb.”

I didn’t want to like him. I couldn’t like him. I was leaving and our only interactions would be at family functions involving Melody and Austin.

“Thanks, Lurch.”

“What would you have done with it?”

“The tomb?”

“Yeah.”

I thought about it. “Donated everything to a museum. Made sure it was preserved properly. Maybe written a book about it.” I grinned. “Definitely would have named it after myself. The Quinn Tomb has a nice ring to it.”

He laughed. The sound echoed through the tunnels, bouncing off stone and history. I felt my stomach flip over.

“I always wanted to be Cleopatra,” I admitted before I could stop myself.

Cash went very still. “Did you?”

“She was brilliant, you know. Spoke like nine languages. Politically savvy. Powerful. Sexy.”

“You’d be a very sexy Cleopatra.”

“Would I?”

“Absolutely.” His voice had dropped half an octave. “The purple streak alone. Very historically accurate.”

“I don’t think Cleopatra had any purple hair.”

“She would have if the technology existed. Purple used to be the color of royalty.”

I laughed, breaking the moment before it could pull me under completely. “What about you? What were you into as a kid?”

He shrugged. “Math. Computer science. Economics.”

“Ew.”

“It’s not ew.”

“It’s extremely ew.” I wrinkled my nose. “You were that kid who did extra credit, weren’t you? Who reminded the teacher when she forgot to assign homework?”

“I was efficient.”

“You were a narc.”

He laughed again and the sound filled the whole underground. I was standing in my dream with my dream guy.

Oh no.

No. Definitely not my dream guy. He can’t be my dream guy. He’s Cash Bancroft. Nothing about him checks any of my boxes.

Not really.

He wasn’t the asshole I’d convinced myself he was. He wasn’t the uptight, spreadsheet-loving robot who’d made my life difficult and looked at me like I was an inconvenience. He was kind. Thoughtful. He’d held me when I cried. He’d pushed me toward my dreams when I’d been too scared to reach for them myself. He’d kissed me like he owned me. Maybe like I owned him. Gave me amazing orgasms.

And now I was stuck in Rome with him for another day and a half, trying to keep a boundary I’d already started resenting. I was trying to remember why I said we couldn’t do that again.

I cleared my throat. Forced myself not to think about last night.