Chapter 10 Lex
LEX
Ieased out of Con’s bed well before dawn, trying my best not to wake him. His breathing remained deep and steady, his face relaxed in sleep—a stark contrast to the guarded expression he typically wore. I watched him for a couple of minutes, memorizing his features.
Yet, here I was.
With reluctance, I left his bedroom and navigated the castle’s shadowy corridors to one of my favorite rooms—the library.
The massive oak door opened silently on well-oiled hinges.
Inside, embers still glowed in the fireplace, casting just enough light to see where I was going.
Rather than switching on the lamps, I moved to the windows and opened the heavy curtains, allowing the predawn glow to filter in.
My intention had been to find something to read, to distract myself from the warmth of Con’s body that I longed to snuggle against. Instead, I found myself drawn to the photographs arranged on various surfaces—Con as a child, as a teenager, always with the same expression.
There was a certain twinkle in his startling blue eyes, as if he knew a great secret.
In one photo, he stood beside his three friends, all of them preteens, arm in arm before what appeared to be this castle.
David’s blond hair caught the sunlight, Tag’s dark curls contrasted with Con’s straighter locks, and Gus stood slightly apart, his smile more reserved than the others.
Four boys with no idea they’d grow into men who would combat global threats.
Another photograph showed Con as a baby, cradled in a woman’s arms—his mother, presumably. She had the same sapphire-blue eyes, her smile tentative as she looked down at her son.
I picked up a silver frame that held a picture of Con at perhaps sixteen, standing proudly beside what must have been his first car. His smile was genuine, unguarded in a way I hadn’t witnessed until last night.
What would a life with Con Carnegie be like? The thought ambushed me, leaving me breathless. Would we split our time between London and Blackmoor? Would there be children who inherited his technological brilliance or my analytical approach?
The mental image of a dark-haired child with Con’s eyes and my button nose made my heart constrict.
Good God—one night sleeping beside him, and I was imagining our hypothetical offspring?
“Planning to steal my baby pictures for blackmail?”
I nearly dropped the frame, spinning around to find Con leaning against the doorjamb arms crossed over his chest. He’d thrown on a T-shirt and flannel bottoms, his feet bare on the stone floor. His hair was tousled from sleep, and a stubbled shadow darkened his jaw. The combination was devastating.
“You caught me,” I replied, setting the photo down. “I was negotiating with several tabloids for exclusive rights.”
He chuckled, the sound low and warm as he crossed the room toward me. “Find anything particularly incriminating?”
“The photo with the car. Not exactly the imposing Earl of Blackmoor image you cultivate now.”
“Ah, yes. My first vehicle—bought with money I made selling an algorithm I’d designed. My father was livid. He wanted me to focus on my studies, not ‘dabble in computer nonsense,’ as he put it.”
Con stood close enough now that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “I was disappointed to wake and find you gone.”
My throat tightened at the quiet admission. “I needed to think.”
“About the same thing I’ve been.”
I smiled. “Reading my mind now?”
He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingertips lingering against my cheek. “Let’s have breakfast. I’m famished.”
The moment broke, and I followed him toward the morning room, trying to sort through my jumbled emotions.
Last night had changed something fundamental between us.
The tension remained, but it had transformed from adversarial to anticipatory.
Each accidental touch as we walked side by side sent desire straight to my core.
Breakfast was set out the same way it had been every day since I arrived. As Con poured coffee, his eyes met mine over the rim of his cup.
“What are your plans for today?” he asked.
“I’d like to meet with Dr. McLaren if she’s available.”
“You should reach out to her. I expect she and Ambrose will be back from Stirling by now.”
His easy agreement surprised me. “No objections this time?”
“You made your point yesterday. I respect your judgment.” He spread marmalade on his toast, then licked some off his finger. The sight made me dizzy. God, how I wanted this man.
“Lex? Still with me?”
“Sorry, what? I was lost in thought for a moment.”
“I said, if our suspicions about Orlov are correct, her insights could prove invaluable.”
“Yes. Most definitely,” I acknowledged, slathering marmalade on my toast like he had. When I turned around to join him at the table, he was standing right behind me.
“You’re distracted,” he said, taking my plate from my hand and setting it on the sideboard. “Anything you want to talk about?”
You. Me. Naked. Back in bed. I wondered how he’d react if I threw caution out the window and said it out loud.
Sadly, for me to ever get up the nerve to, I’d have to have a complete personality transplant.
“I, err, should probably message Dr. McLaren now.” I skirted around him and out into the hall, where I leaned against the stone wall, hoping it would cool me off.
Evelyn, not that I ever called her that, responded almost immediately, inviting me to join her at Ashcroft midafternoon.
“All set?” he asked when I returned and saw he’d moved my plate to the table where he sat.
“Yes. Ashcroft at fifteen hundred.”
“I’d like to join you.”
My eyes met his, and the challenge I saw in them previously was gone. “I’m sure Dr. McLaren wouldn’t mind.”
He reached for my hand after I took my seat. “What about you, Lex? Would you mind?” His thumb brushed the inside of my palm, making it impossible for me to think.
“I would not,” I said, jerking it away with more force than I’d intended.
His eyes flared.
“Sorry, it’s just…”
“Look, if you prefer I not, I’ll respect your wishes.”
“It isn’t that, Con.”
He stood to get more coffee. “What is it, then?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“You make it hard for me to think at times,” I admitted.
His scowl was quickly replaced by a wide smile.
I shook my head, unable to keep from grinning as well.
His hand reached for mine again. “You do the same to me, you know?”
After breakfast, we retreated to the ops hub, the professional setting a stark contrast to the scene of our breakfast flirtatiousness.
“The Russian we overheard mentioned a demonstration within the month,” I said, typing notes as I spoke. “Which means—”
“They’d need to conduct the final integration testing within the next week,” Con finished.
I continued typing. “And given what we know about his previous work, Orlov would need specialized hardware for that phase.” An alert popped up on my screen. “What’s this?” I asked.
Con leaned over my shoulder, his chest briefly pressing against my back. The contact, though fleeting, made me shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature in the underground facility.
“I reached out to Sullivan to see if her sources were able to confirm shipments taking place in the next seven days. It appears she had success,” he said before moving over to his workstation.
By early afternoon, we’d compiled a comprehensive analysis of potential locations for Labyrinth’s operations, narrowing our focus to three specific areas within Scotland that had the infrastructure necessary for advanced AI-weapons development, as well as easy access to Teesport, where the previous shipments Sullivan had tracked departed from.
“Time to go,” said Con.
I was stunned when I checked and saw it was already fourteen-thirty. “I’ll just grab a coat.”
“Ahem.”
“Oh, you have it already,” I said, turning to see it dangling from one of Con’s fingers. I stood, and he helped me with it. Admittedly, I loved how much of a gentleman he could be when he decided he wanted to.
The drive to Ashcroft was under rain-heavy clouds that threatened but hadn’t yet broken. The castle’s silhouette against the darkening sky was imposing, particularly given it sat on a promontory.
“Dr. Sterling, how lovely to see you again. Lord Blackmoor,” Mairi greeted us at the entrance with a warm smile. She gave a slight bow that seemed more habitual than necessary. “Dr. McLaren is waiting in the library. I’ll bring tea shortly.”
Following Mairi through Ashcroft’s corridors, I noted the similarities and differences between this castle and Blackmoor.
Both possessed the weight of history in their stone walls, but where Blackmoor felt like Con—controlled elegance with cutting-edge technology hidden beneath traditional surfaces—Ashcroft carried a more mysterious energy, secrets tucked away in shadowed corners.
We entered the library to find Dr. McLaren examining a leather-bound volume at a table near the windows. She looked up as we walked in, her eyes briefly registering surprise at Con’s presence before her professional mask reasserted itself.
“Margot, Conrad, thank you for coming.” She closed the book and gestured to the chairs across from her. As we settled, she continued, “A magnificent room, isn’t it? Though I understand it has a troubled recent history.”
“This is where Fallon Wallace abducted Sullivan Rivers,” Con confirmed, his voice flat despite the personal nature of the statement. “She took her through a concealed entrance behind a bookcase that led to the tunnels beneath the estate.”
Dr. McLaren’s eyes widened slightly. “So the rumored passages are real. Fascinating from a historical perspective, though clearly dangerous in the wrong hands.” She shifted her attention to me. “You mentioned concerns about Viktor Orlov?”
“First, whether or not he’s alive.”
“While I too have heard the rumors, I’ve not received confirmation that they’re true.”