Tonight it’s just us, but Calvin takes up more space than he has a right to.

He takes the lead, too. As if we’re exploring some unknown, potentially dangerous area, he keeps me behind him as we walk through the tight spaces.

“Making sure the coast is clear?” I joke.

He glances back at me, his dark hair and dark clothes a striking contrast from the sand-colored walls and brighter images painted on the stone surface. “What? You don’t trust me to keep you safe?”

I roll my eyes. He’s the last person in the world I should trust to keep me safe, but the intimacy of the moment, the two of us alone in this ancient structure… something about it strikes a chord. Reminds me of that odd sensation I get sometimes that he would protect me from danger, he just can’t be bothered to stop damaging me himself.

“The chapel,” he says, looking around as we enter the room.

“Are you allowed in those?” I murmur, looking around instead of at him, but I can still see out of the corner of my eyes when his lips tug up with amusement.

“If the structure collapses, I guess we’ll have our answer,” he says lightly.

I move forward, gazing at the Egyptians painted all around. I reach out a hand to follow the pictures, to look at the record of all the offerings that were brought here for Perneb’s spirit.

“When I was a little girl, I found Egyptology very interesting,” I tell him. I don’t know why I tell him, but once I do, I keep going. “I had a vivid dream once that I was a boy living in an ancient Egyptian city and helping build the pyramids. After that, I always felt connected to that part of history. In my 7th grade history class we had this project, we had to remake a relic from one of the ancient civilizations. I chose Egypt and made a replica sculpture with hieroglyphs that was so detailed and accurate, the principal asked if they could display it in a trophy cabinet in the library. I think it’s still on display there today.”

“You must be very artistic,” he remarks.

“I better be,” I say lightly, forgetting I never told him what my job is. There’s little point holding back now, so I explain, “I illustrate children’s books for a living.”

“Ah.” He nods, meeting my gaze as we move through the tomb. “An artist.” When I nod, he asks, “Is that what you wanted to do?”

“More or less. I love helping other people bring their stories to life for children to enjoy, but someday it would be nice to illustrate for myself. Maybe write my own books. I don’t know, I’m always working on project after project, so there’s never really time.” Somewhat uncomfortable sharing this ambition I’ve never shared with anyone before, I try to change the subject. “What were you like as a child?”

“Odd,” he says dryly.

I bite back a smile as I take the lead around the next corner. “You? Odd? I can’t imagine.”

“I wasn’t all that creative, but I was observant. Curious. I was always watching the world around me, trying to make sense of it. I didn’t really fit in with other kids. I had plenty of surface-level friends, but I think they made me feel lonelier than I probably would have without any.”

Hearing that drains the trace of amusement I felt when I asked. “Oh. Loneliness is no fun. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not,” he says, his tone cavalier as he catches me around the waist and presses me against the wall.

I brace my hands on the hard surface, sucking in a breath as my heart rate accelerates. He only holds me for a moment, though. Just long enough to get past me so he’s in the lead.

“Made me who I am today,” he finishes, a hint of pleasure in his tone because he startled me.

I swallow and dust off the front of my dress even though I’m sure it’s fine. “You shouldn’t press people against walls in ancient tombs.”

“I saw you wanting to touch it a minute ago, but you stopped yourself. Now you’ve touched it,” he says, flashing me a devilish smirk over his shoulder.

He’s right, but I shake my head at him. “You just wanted to be in front.”

He doesn’t bother arguing.

We finish exploring the tomb, then make our way through the Egyptian art displays. The guard he mentioned comes into view as we check out buttons and tiles unearthed by archeologists.

“Are they afraid we’ll steal them?” I whisper as I gaze at a small blue bead with a slightly warped face that seems surprised or afraid.

“Perhaps. Maybe the whole date’s a ruse and I’m an art thief,” he teases. “Impressing you is just my cover story.”

My cheeks warm and I find myself smiling even though I shouldn’t. “I can definitely see you being a secret art thief, but for what this night must have cost, you better steal something more valuable than an old bead.”

Tags: Sam Mariano Billionaire Romance
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