9
Elvira
"SO WHY DO YOU want me there exactly?" I asked Levi after taking a sip of the mimosa I was sure was made with prime grade oranges and the most expensive champagne in the world.
It sure tasted like it. Acting cool while flying in a private jet for the first time in your life was kind of hard.
I had to stop myself from glancing around so I could take in the oak finish on every surface.
The plush white leather seats. Levi was sitting opposite me, jotting something in his leather-bound journal.
He always carried that thing everywhere, and he would pull it out at odd times, making me wonder what he was jotting in it.
He finished writing his sentence, glanced at me, and said, "Your expertise."
"As a teaching assistant?" He had called me early on a Saturday morning, asking if I wanted to make double my monthly salary in two days. I should have said no. After marrying me, Levi had gone on to act like nothing happened, as though we were still colleagues. He wasn’t even wearing his ring, I had removed mine on cue, which made me wonder why he had bought such expensive jewelry in the first place.
I guess that's how things should be, because our marriage wasn't real.
But it was difficult for me to act normal after that kiss.
But looking at him now, it was obvious that I was the only one affected by it.
He, on the other hand, did not seem bothered.
"As an appraiser."
"It's Christie's. I don't think they're trying to bilk you." My eyes darted around the luxurious plane. "Wouldn't a guy like you have someone like that on call?"
Writing in his journal, he said, "And that someone is you."
"Yeah, but I only did that for like six months."
"Did you work with fifteenth-century artifacts?"
"Yeah."
"See? You'll do."
"I don't know. If you want a full appraisal, I'm going to need a good reference database, which I no longer have access to."
"All I want is for you to look at it. That's it. You might find them useful for your thesis. There's a rumor that one of Johnson's secretaries was an African man."
That last part made my ears perk up. If what he was saying was true, it would bring a lot of weight to my thesis if I could find a firsthand account of a medieval Black man. "You know, you could have led with that."
He closed his journal, shoved it into his bag, leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes, getting ready to sleep. "And what fun would that be? I like teasing you."
Why did I have a suspicion he was doing this because he wanted someone to bully and not because he wanted an appraiser he could trust?
When he asked me to come, I was tempted to say no.
He had spent the week following our wedding working me hard.
Giving me tasks that would drive any sane person crazy.
By the end of the week, I was tired and looking forward to binge-watching a thriller series when he called me.
The only reason I accepted was the shock in Effie's voice when she called me asking where I got the money.
Lucky for me, last week's lottery had a mystery winner.
I told her that it was me and she had bought it.
The Photoshop job Jess did on a lottery ticket was also good enough to convince my sister.
After that, Effie went from shocked to surprise to joy.
She refused the money at first, insisting I use it for my academic career until I told her the antique shop was mine as well.
Our parents left it to both of us. Marrying the Phantom was worth it, I told myself.
That kiss floated into my mind again, and this time I could not push it away, especially when he was sitting right now, looking as handsome as he did on that day.
He wore his usual outfit: a shirt, blue chinos, and brown suede shoes.
An attire straight from the College Professor 101 store.
He shopped at the most expensive version, that was for sure.
I wasn't into fashion, but I could recognize high fashion and tailored clothes.
Levi always wore the priciest outfit he could find, whether it was just a t-shirt or a suit.
He opened his eyes fully and caught me staring at him. His piercing gaze made my stomach wobble. Glancing away would only make me look guilty, and continuing to stare at him only proved I was thinking about him.
"What?"
I feigned nonchalance. "Nothing."
"Not when you were ogling me like an animal at a zoo."
"I was not!"
"Right."
I might as well ask. "Why did you kiss me?"
His brow furrowed as though he were trying to remember what I was referring to. Of course, he had forgotten. I was tossing and turning, unable to sleep for a week, and he had thrown it to the back of his mind.
"At the courthouse." My tone was hurried, betraying my embarrassment.
A small smile played on his lips, which disappeared as soon as it appeared. "Isn't that what a bride and groom do after they exchange vows?"
"You know the kiss I am talking about!"
He raised his eyebrows as though to say, 'What kiss?'. The asshole. Then, his face brightened with realization. "Oh, that? That was just a distraction."
Just? "A distraction? Couldn't you think of better ways to distract the dean that didn't include your lips on mine?"
"Sorry, I'm not so quick on my feet. That's what I thought would be fitting in the moment. No one glances twice at a bride and groom kissing when there are so many. But I thought you were fine with it. Were you not?"
"No. I mean, yes." I inhaled. "I mean, I don't mind you kissing me." That came out wrong. His pupils dilated, taking in the deeper meaning my words suggested. "What I want to say is, I did not mind you kissing me then. "
"What about at some point in the future? Would you have any issues with me kissing you then, or was our wedding day the last time I tasted your lips?"
My pulse raced at the thought of being kissed by him again.
Why did he have to put it like that?A recurring image started playing in my mind.
Me getting up from my seat, getting into his lap and claiming his lips again.
It would be the most natural thing for a married couple to do, but we weren't just any married couple.
I shifted in my seat. "I think it's better if we stick to the terms of our agreement."
"So no more kisses? What if a similar situation happens again?"
"You will have to think of other ways of distracting people.
My lips are off limits." His gaze trailed to my mouth, and his eyes darkened.
Feeling self-conscious under his scrutinizing gaze, I darted my tongue to wet my lips.
His eyes darkened. Suddenly, he jerked up from his seat.
I was sure his next step was towards me, but instead, he slid into the aisle and marched to the bathroom.
When he came back, he took a different seat, one several feet away from me.
A few moments later, the flight attendant came to take his things and gave them to him.
I took out my tablet and tried to read a book. I swiped through the romance books that filled my Kindle app and chose something that had nothing to do with a sexy professor and a teaching assistant who secretly wanted him to bone her. No Country for Old Men . Good.
A few hours later, we landed in London. I thought Levi had booked hotel rooms, but a driver and car, identical to Bradley Jones's, whisked us to a Chelsea apartment upon our arrival. Did the Hawthorne family have clones of the same people everywhere?
The place was a beautiful townhouse that had not forgotten its Victorian roots but wasstill modern enough that it could feature in Architectural Digest. Light blue Victorian style wallpaper lined the walls with bottom white wood panels.
The beige with blue furniture was modern but with a touch of the past.
The butler who received us was as well-mannered as I expected a butler to be, and his back was straight even though his eyes were heavy with sleep. This guy did not look like the driver. His tall, wiry frame towered over us all, including a very tall Levi.
"Thank you, Mosely," Levi said as the butler directed a footman to take our luggage. How many servants did this man have in his life? They seem to pop out of the woodwork. "Is Raine around?"
"He's at Monza, sir," Mosely said as he elegantly glided through the apartment. "The team got pole position."
"Nice."
"Will you be needing supper, sir?"
Levi glanced at me inquisitively. I shook my head. "It's late," Levi said.
Levi showed me my bedroom, a fairly large room with a white four-poster bed and blue floral linen. The view of the city it offered was gorgeous.
"I didn't know you had a place here. I thought we would be staying at a hotel."
"It's not mine," he said as a footman came through with my luggage. "It's my brother's."
"Which one? You have plenty."
"I have five. You make it sound like we are a stable full."
"I mean, as someone who only had one sister, it is hard to imagine someone in a family that big."
He blanched. "We're not that big."
"Who do you know besides you who has six siblings?"
He shook his head. "Whatever."
I strode to the bed and sank into the soft mattress. "So, whose is it?"
Levi crossed his arms. "Raine. The youngest in our family."
"He owns this?" I darted my gaze around the grand room. Wasn't he like in his twenties? His family was hard to keep straight, but I was sure his youngest brother was younger than I.
"Yes, and no. It's a family apartment. I used to stay here at one point. This was my room."He frowned and closed off again, turning serious. "Rest. We have an early day tomorrow."
"Today," I said.
"Huh."
"Today. It's one am."
He shook his head and headed out. But just like at his house, it was also difficult to find sleep here, knowing he had slept in the same bed at one point in time. Possibly the same sheets.
◆◆◆
"SO? WHAT DO YOU think?" I glanced up from my magnifying glass to gaze at Levi. He had his hands thrust in his pockets. The anxiety in his voice was a contradiction to his stern face. He was looking for assurance from me. It was nice to feel… important. He really wanted to know what I thought.
I carefully put the parchment back in the glass case.
The curator's vigilant gaze on me as I did so.
I removed the museum's white gloves and handed them to her.
Then, I turned to Levi. "At first glance, I would say yes.
It looks legit." I glanced at the curator, who was now closing the glass box and putting back the letter where we found it when we came in.
At the center of the collection. "It's all legit," I said, waving at the books.
I leaned into his ear and whispered, "I don't think Christie's is trying to rip you off.
But I can't give a thorough appraisal, though. "
He rolled his eyes. "I know. What I mean is, do you think Johnson wrote the letter?"
"It looks like his handwriting." His face lit up with hope.
"It's consistent with the handwriting in the diary.
But I am no handwriting expert. And since the letter is coded, the handwriting might be different.
Handwriting analysis can be more of an art than a science…
If someone wants to fake handwriting, they can if they have a sample. "
He folded his arms. "So what do you think? Should I get it?"
"I mean, the diary and the letter prove very little. Nowhere in the diary, at least the pages I've read, does he say, you know, I killed those boys. As for the coded letters…"
"It's not the only diary." His gaze went to the Scott-Elliot collection.
It was a massive trove of books, letters, and papers that filled the corner of the auction room.
There was interesting stuff that a historian like me would love to read, but concerning the reason Levi was here, the mystery of the Princes in the Tower, and his theory, this all could be nothing.
It was a far-fetched theory at best, and the previous owner of the collection either didn't think there was anything to it or he did an investigation of his own and found nothing in it.
But if we could decode the letters, who knows what could be in them?
"It looks like Johnson's writing. That's all I can say.
Also, Johnson wasn't a key figure. So, it's unlikely someone would fake his writing to make a collection this large.
It's not like it's the Hitler diaries," I said, referring to the hoax of Hitler diaries being found out to be written by a forger who wanted to scam the German Nazi memorabilia scene.
Levi straightened his back. "If you say so, then fine. I am buying it."
"It's your money." And he clearly had a lot of it.
Levi turned to the curator. "How much do you think the collection will end up selling for?"
The woman shrugged. "If this were a normal collection, I would have told you, but as it turns out, several museums and private collectors, such as yourself, have an interest in buying it."
Levi frowned. "I thought I was the only private collector bidding."
"Haven't you heard? There's another group that wants to purchase it as well."