Bloody Kisses (19 page)

Olive accepted the drink. “Thank you.”

She’d never met Xavier Wells, so she didn’t know who she was looking for in the sea of men in penguin suits. While the women wore different dresses, they were all fancy. Olive was underdressed for the occasion, but prom dresses weren’t really her thing.

While all the women seemed snooty, they were divided into two classes—old money and arm candy. The few with whom Olive made eye contact, looked down their noses at her.

A bleach blonde about her age grabbed Olive by the elbow. “Can you bring out some more of those little bacon-wrapped prawns, sweetheart?”

“Excuse me?” Olive replied.

The blonde made a scooting motion with her hand. “Run along and get some more finger foods. I’m
absolutely
ravenous.”

Olive smiled. “Can I get you anything else from the kitchen?”

The blonde put her finger on her chin and looked at the ceiling. “Some of those little wieners would be great. Thank you!”

With a smile on her face, Olive walked away and slipped in and out through the crowd. “Stay hungry, my friend,” she said under her breath.

Making like a wallflower, she veered toward the left side of the room. Piano music played softly in the background as she pretended to be interested in a gold-framed painting. She studied the blurred appearance—French Impressionism. This could very well be the counterfeit painting her father had sold Wells, and he would be just slimy enough to pass it off to some poor bidder.

The next table held two glasses of champagne. That was a weird auction. Upon closer inspection, she read the description on the paper. Each glass contained a diamond earring. Creative but still odd. She checked to make sure that nothing foreign sat in the bottom of her flute then took a sip. The cold bubbles burned her throat momentarily and she sneezed.

“Bless you, Miss Prentiss.”

She turned at the mention of her name.

A tall man in a tuxedo extended his hand. He was probably in his mid-forties with a bit of silver beginning to show at his sideburns. Women would call him
distinguished.

“Xavier Wells. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” A small white rosebud peeked out from the pocket at his breast.

Olive tried to remain stoic. The last thing she wanted was to be dazzled, but Xavier was not what she had expected, and the warmth of his smile disarmed her.

She transferred the champagne flute into the hand that carried the relic so that she could shake his hand.

Xavier stole a quick glance at her cleavage before returning his gaze to her eyes. “Your father failed to mention what a beauty his intelligent daughter was.”

Olive looked past Xavier and into the crowd. “Apparently, my father failed to mention a few things to you.”

His shoulders slumped slightly as he chuckled. “And a sense of humor to boot.”

Despite her best efforts, Olive smiled. She’d hoped Xavier would’ve been like the other benefactors she’d met, a stodgy old man with thinning hair and a pot belly. No such luck. And there was no ring on his finger. He was probably an insufferable bachelor who dated trophy women with fake boobs and fake smiles. Xavier moved in beside her. His cologne was subtle, clean, woodsy, as if he’d just gotten out of the barber chair after a hot cream shave.

“What charity will this auction benefit?” Olive asked.

“The Wells Foundation.”

Why was she not surprised? “I believe that’s the same foundation that funded my dig.”

“It is. We also fund scientific research. I’d like to see a cure for childhood cancers.”

“That’s a noble cause.” Sarcasm dripped from her words like venom; she couldn’t help herself.

“I think it is.” He stuck his elbow out. “Let me show you what we’re auctioning.”

Olive raised an eyebrow but looped her arm through his anyway.

Crystal chandeliers with tiny lights too numerous to count hung strategically from brass plates in the high ceiling. People touched Xavier as they passed, as if they couldn’t resist him.

A brunette woman stopped in front of them and put her hand out to him. “Xavier. It’s been ages.” Her teeth were too big and too white and her boobs were fighting a losing battle with her tight, low-cut blouse. The old adage that money couldn’t buy class was exemplified in this one.

“Yes, it has.” Xavier took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Renee. Nice to see you. How is Mr. Lang?”

Renee rolled her eyes and laughed obnoxiously loud. “Oh, you know. He’s playing golf in Aruba or somewhere.” She held up a small black leather clutch and winked. “But I have his checkbook.”

“Fantastic.” Xavier tried to disengage his hand but Renee held onto it. “Enjoy yourself.”

Renee glanced at Olive and her smile faded. “You too, darling. I’ll see you later.”

After Renee was out of earshot, Olive exhaled. “She’s an interesting character.”

Xavier laughed. “Indeed.”

Small tables sat in front of each exhibit. A sheet of paper and pen were provided for people to write down their name and how much they were willing to pay for the proffered item. The painting they stood in front of now depicted a bowl of fruit. Red and green apples with a banana on top. The highest bidder was someone named
McAllister Wentworth III
. She laughed quietly to herself. What a pretentious name. And he was the third to bear that moniker. His bid was twenty grand. While Olive could appreciate a pretty picture, she didn’t possess the love for art that her father had. The symbolism in a bowl of fruit was lost on her. She’d rather get her hands dirty in the sands of a pyramid and wipe sweat from her brow than stand in front weird paintings with men in tuxedos while worrying about her lipstick.

“This was painted by a young Italian artist in the early nineteenth century. She was later killed by her lover. It’s interesting how the degree of tragedy affects the value. Had she simply drowned, it would worth far less.”

“That’s horrible,” Olive said. “I don’t understand all this.” She waved her hand around. “All this excess.”

Xavier nodded. “
This
is what funds your digs, sweetheart.”

No one stood near them; small clusters of people gathered in front of different exhibits talking in excited but hushed tones. She had no idea so many people would travel to Egypt for a charity function. Or maybe they lived there.

Olive turned to face him. “Why do you want it?”

“Want what?”

“Don’t play stupid, Mr. Wells.”

He skimmed his fingers over her shoulder. “I like beautiful things. Valuable things. Irreplaceable things.”

A shiver crawled up her spine. “What assurance do I have that if I give it to you that you won’t turn on me or my father?”

“Now why would I do that? Surely, you don’t believe I’d implicate myself in this. I’m simply taking advantage of an opportunity that was dropped in my lap.”

“What about the curse? That doesn’t trouble you?”

Xavier laughed. “Come now, Olive. Don’t be silly. Curses aren’t real.”

“How do you know that? There have been too many unexplained things that happen after tombs are compromised. Tunnels collapse. Diggers dying suddenly of heart attacks.”

“You’re a scientist. You know that those things can all be explained by science.”

“Too many coincidences.”

“You sound paranoid.”

He was right. She did. She took a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter. I just want this to be done so I can wash my hands of it.”

“All you have to do is hand the heart over to me and walk away.”

“I want something else.”

Xavier cocked his head to the right. “Oh?”

“You’re an opportunist. Surely you can appreciate me taking advantage of an opportunity.”

“I’m listening.”

“I want the next dig in Alexandria fully funded, no questions asked.”

“If you help me make this auction successful, I’ll concede.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Are you really bargaining with me here? I could put you
and
your father in prison.”

“You’re an awful human being, do you know that? You use kids with cancer to funnel money into your pocket. You threaten people with prison if they don’t do your bidding.”

Heat spread from her belly to her neck and up into her cheeks. She was sure her face was red. “You’re a prick.” Olive downed her champagne and set the empty glass next to the auction sheet on the table. With a backward glance, she headed for the double doors across the room. Xavier stood there in front of the stupid fruit painting with a smile plastered on his face. She imagined he always looked so self-satisfied.

Olive turned forward just in time to run into the broad chest of a man. The heart scarab fell from her grasp and bounced on the marble floor. She looked up into the kohl-lined eyes of the man she’d seen by the café. He smirked.

Olive bent to grab the relic off the floor and rushed past him. The smell of lilies hung heavily in the hallway as she rushed toward the bank of elevators and fear boiled up in her gut. In her haste, her heel caught on the carpet and she stumbled, but caught herself with a hand on the wall.

She stabbed at the up button while watching the corridor, waiting for the mysterious man to emerge and pursue her. He had to be the mummy coming after his scarab heart. Maybe even sent by Osiris himself. Perhaps she should go back and give it to Xavier, make it his problem, but she’d been the one to take it. Surely passing it off wouldn’t absolve her of guilt.

The light above the elevator came on and a bell rang. The moment the doors slid open she slunk inside. Her head spun a little, probably from the champagne. She didn’t drink often, but at the moment she wished she had another one to ease her anxiety. Why had she agreed to this? Her father was a grown-up; he should fix his own messes.

For the next few days, the students would be cataloguing the dig. She could go back and slip the heart back where it belonged. That would stop this madness, this sense that she was losing her mind. And it was the right thing to do. She wasn’t a thief.
But her father was
. Damn him. The thought of her charming, well-spoken father in prison made her stomach churn. He was too pretty, but at some point, Casper was going to have to start being responsible for his own actions. Olive wouldn’t be bailing him out anymore.

Tears burned her eyes as she exited the elevator and jogged toward her hotel room door. First thing in the morning, she would hail a taxi back to the tomb of Amenken and make this right.

T
he night had passed slowly
with her waking every hour. Until that scarab was back where it belonged, Olive would likely not get a good night’s sleep. With coffee in hand, she sat on the small balcony and watched the sun rise. The sky went from inky black to swirls of pink and purple and orange. Another half hour and a cab would meet her down at the street and take her back to the tomb.

She dressed and tucked the scarab into her bra for the last time. She made sure her keycard was in her purse and pulled open the door to her room. Instead of an empty hallway, she was greeted by the man with the kohl-lined eyes.

“Going somewhere?”

Olive tried to push the door closed but she was no match for his strength. He pushed her back inside and she lost her balance. The carpet was plush and thick and cushioned her fall when she landed square on her ass.

Fear gripped her throat. The scream she felt in her chest didn’t materialize and she sat there with her mouth open.

He stood over her and her mind flashed to Anubis standing over her with the bleeding heart.

“Listen very carefully, Tia. Your presence in Mr. Wells’s room is requested immediately. You will come quietly with me if you value your safety.”

Tia
? “What did you call me? I think you’ve made a mistake. I’m not Tia.”

He lifted his chin. “I don’t make mistakes.” His jaw was square and his nose straight. “Now get up.”

Olive scrambled to her feet. Going with him was not an option. She was alone in a foreign country. She could go missing for days before anyone realized it. He could take her anywhere and then what? He might kill her. He’d just threatened her safety if she didn’t comply.

Adrenaline flooded her system. Olive was breathing hard and that damned scarab in her bra was heating up again. Being trapped alone with this man in her room was probably more dangerous than going with him.

“Okay.” She rubbed her sweating palms on her jeans. “I’ll go with you. Where is Mr. Wells?”

“I will take you to him.”

Once they were in the hallway, he gripped her elbow firmly, his thumb pressed against her funny bone. If she tried to get away, it wouldn’t take much pressure on that spot to force her into compliance. It was still early in the morning and they didn’t run into any other people as they approached the bank of elevators.

He turned to exit the hallway and Olive pulled free of his grasp and made a run for the green exit light at the other end of the corridor. Her legs felt heavy, as if she was running in sand, but she made it to the door and pulled it open. The stairwell was dimly lit and concrete stairs went both up and down. Her foot hit the first step going down when a strong arm caught her around the waist and a hand covered her mouth.

“Do not scream or I will hurt you.” He lifted her off her feet and half carried, half dragged her up the stairs. Her struggling didn’t seem to affect him at all. After going up several floors, he pulled her into a hallway where the doors were spaced farther apart than on her floor. He stopped at the second one and knocked. The door opened immediately.

Xavier backed away to allow them entrance to the living area of the suite. He smiled. “I’m glad you could join us, Miss Prentiss.” He walked toward the bar and picked up a bottle of Maker’s Mark. “Would you like a drink?”

Fear and disbelief gave way to anger. She yanked her arm away from the driver and charged toward him. “You had me fucking kidnapped? Are you insane?”

“Kidnap is a strong word.”

“When you take someone against their will, that’s god-damned kidnapping.” Her heart beat a tattoo and she pulled the relic from her bra. She rubbed her thumb over the smooth bottom then threw it at Xavier. It bounced off his chest and landed on the ivory carpet. “There. Happy? Can I be left alone now?”

Xavier bent down to pick up the scarab. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Are you diabolical?”

His calm demeanor reminded her of that crazy dude in
American Psycho
. “I needed your undivided attention, Miss Prentiss, and you didn’t seem inclined to give it to me.”

“You’ve got the heart. What more could you possibly want?”

He tilted his head. “You haven’t guessed?”

“Please don’t tell me that you thought you could dazzle your way into my pants with your money and parties and eloquent speeches.”

He sat on the edge of the table and swung his leg back and forth. “I assure you that was not my plan.”

Weirdly, she was a little disappointed that he didn’t want her. He’d just had her forcibly brought to his room. She should be terrified of him, but she wasn’t. Her body betrayed her and tightened in places it shouldn’t. Being sexually attracted to the likes of Xavier Wells was definitely not okay.

The suite was eerily quiet; the driver had disappeared.

“I’m leaving. I don’t want to be here.” The words left her lips but her feet remained anchored in place.

That maddening smile again. “I don’t believe you when you say that. No one is guarding the door or trying to stop you. If you must go, go.”

“You...you make me so mad.”

“Better than feeling nothing. I’ve had a millennium of that.”

“What did you say?” A millennium?

“Never mind.”

“You wanted to see me. So here I am. I’ve given you the amulet. Are we done?”

“Do you want us to be done?” Xavier stood. He seemed taller, more imposing than he had in the ballroom the night before.

“There’s no us.” Olive stepped back only to bump into the corner of the sofa.

He advanced, moving in until his lips grazed her cheek. She should have pushed him away but the heat of his mouth felt good.

Olive swallowed hard but a red flashing alert caused her to glance up at the television mounted to the wall behind him. The sound was turned off but a news report was on about the weather. A rare storm was headed toward Alexandria.

She pointed at the television. “Turn the volume on.”

The meteorologist spoke in Arabic. Xavier backed away from her and picked up the remote. With a few clicks the closed caption programming popped up.

“Flash flooding is expected in Alexandria. It is recommended that people remain indoors at least until tomorrow morning.”

Whatever was brewing between them was halted. “There are kids out at my dig site,” Olive said, pulling her phone out of her bag.

“Tell them to get out of there.”