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“Hence our reason for being here,” Mrs. Winters interjects. “We’re seeking approval from the Board to pursue the opportunity, especially considering that it is a recently recovered stolen artifact.”
“Tell us more about it,” one of the vice chairmen prompts.
Mrs. Winters looks at Giselle. She smiles and starts elaborating on the sculpture’s origins and history. The more she speaks authoritatively about it, the more I yearn to have her in my life. Furtively, I look around the table and note how enamored the people are with her knowledge and authority on the subject. I can’t help gritting my teeth when I notice some eyes trailing not just her face, but her body as well.
Horny old bastards! She’s mine!
What the hell is wrong with me? Where is this schoolboy jealousy and possessiveness coming from? One day and night with her isn’t enough to claim her as mine.
I rub a hand across my jaw as I struggle to focus on what she’s saying and not imagine her mouth on my cock again.
“For an event planner, I must say you’re quite versed in the history of the Mayans,” one of the men says in a tone filled with admiration.
Giselle smiles brightly, making me feel as if I’ve been punched in the solar plexus. “I studied art and archaeology at the Sorbonne.”
Wait. What? I didn’t know that. What the hell is she doing working as an event planner? She should be a conservator.
“That’s impressive,” someone says with appreciation.
“Truly, this could be very good for the museum’s reputation.”
“Yes. As it was recovered from an art theft ring, it will draw curiosity among our visitors and make the exhibit a huge success.”
“And raise more funds, which we discussed earlier.”
“Art lovers will definitely be intrigued by it.”
As the discussion is going on around the table about the merits of having the sculpture displayed at the museum, I think of a way to get to Giselle and make her hear me out.
“I’m afraid we have to act fast if we want to acquire it. Otherwise, it might be returned to the Honduran government very soon,” Mrs. Winters chips in.
After further discussion, the chairman finally announces the Board’s concurrence.
Giselle and her team beam with delight.
“And since Ms. Bartholomay is the one who brought up the project and has the lead at the FBI, I think it’s only fair that she should travel to Washington to view the sculpture and speak to them.”
Her green eyes glint with joy. A surge of affection for her rises in me, which I hastily crush.
“But as it’s a new role for her, I believe a conservator or a board member should accompany her. Is anyone willing to do that?”
Smiling as the perfect opportunity lands squarely on my lap, I clear my throat and lean forward.
“I’ll go,” I declare before anyone else can speak up. Giving nothing away with my blank expression, I continue, “I’m also interested in the sculpture, and I have a contact at the FBI as well, in case hers falls through.”
I chance a glance in Giselle’s direction. Silently, I applaud her for maintaining a cool facade. Only the narrowing of her eyes depicts her displeasure at my suggestion.
“Er . . . thank you, Mr. . . .”
“Carrey, Ms. Bartholomay,” I supply easily. Two can play the game.
“Mr. Carrey. I’d prefer someone from my team. Someone I’ve worked with to make things easier,” she protests calmly.
The chairman shakes his head. “I think we’re fortunate that someone of Mr. Carrey’s art expertise is able to accompany you. He’s one of our contributors to the Mayan art exhibit, and I believe he’s as knowledgeable as you are. So, you two will work well together to determine the artifact’s condition.”
“Precisely,” I concur. Turning to Giselle with a cool smile, I add, “Rest assured, Ms. Bartholomay, that we’ll bring the sculpture to the museum. I can be very persuasive in my dealings.”
She ignores my double entendre and opens her mouth, most likely to protest again, but the chairman cuts in.
