5. Chapter Five
Chapter 5
R ieka stilled; her skin tingled as the lightly accented voice washed over her. It was the voice of a seducer, almost hypnotic in its cadence and tone.
Dante Delacroix.
The poster child for the Atlantean elite.
Cold emerald eyes stared at her. The color was so bright he would never pass as a human. His high cheekbones and full lips looked like someone had chiseled him out of marble. Everything drew attention to him, even his perfectly tousled black hair—a touch too long to be considered conservative.
The elevator door closed behind her.
She was staring, but she couldn’t help herself. The white shirt and black slacks were tailored to fit his muscular frame. Dark olive skin peeked out under the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, where she could see a sprinkling of black hair scattered along his arm. An expensive silver watch flashed in the light. Heat flushed through her as she snapped her attention back to his face. The last thing she needed to be doing was ogling the Atlantean. It wasn’t hard to see why humans had worshipped them as gods. The species were coldly beautiful and just as vicious as the ancient Olympian pantheons.
She was out of her league—screwed. And not in the good way.
No one came out a winner when you negotiated with a member of the Delacroix family.
She pushed back her shoulders and held out her hand. “Dante Delacroix, I presume.”
He returned the handshake. It was firm, but not overpowering. “You presume correctly.”
There was no hint of emotion in his gaze, and there was no mistaking the feeling that he was searching for any sign of weakness that he could exploit. She would be damned if she gave him an opening. The Atlantean exuded power from his every pore. Like he controlled the very air surrounding him. But Rieka had never walked away from a challenge. Even if Dante was far more dangerous than the guards he surrounded himself with. An illusion designed to make his guests feel like he was one of them. A false sense of security.
“It’s not every day I get to meet someone prettier than the statues I have studied.”
Dante blinked at her slowly, the intensity of his gaze never wavering. “I’ve never been described as pretty.”
The filter between her mouth and brain must have stopped working somewhere between getting into the elevator and meeting Dante. No, Dante was not pretty. He looked like a dark angel, ready to avenge God’s wrath. Rieka snorted. “Maybe not directly to you.”
The view was nowhere as intriguing as the Atlantean by her side. She’d heard stories about Dante and his ilk. Most she’d thrown out as exaggeration, but perhaps there was a level of truth to some of them.
The sunlight cast the room aglow in a white light, creating an ethereal atmosphere. The only color was the giant desk and black sofas to her right. She pressed her clammy hands to her sides. Rieka was there for a reason. It meant that she had some form of bargaining power. She glanced back at the city landscape; using the time to refocus her thoughts. “Does the view ever get old?”
“No.”
Dante stalked toward his desk. It was the only word to describe the way he moved, with the grace of a big panther that was ready to pounce. Dante half-turned; the bright light cast him aglow with a fiery halo. Her cheeks warmed. First, she called him pretty, and now she was gawking at him.
Very professional, Sinha.
“Please sit.”
It sounded like an order.
Rieka stood next to the chair, tracing the soft leather before she sat. She may as well be comfortable. “Why am I here?”
“I am looking for an archaeologist, one with your experience and expertise.”
Was this an elaborate joke? “There are hundreds of experts within the field. The institution that you sponsor did not terminate most of them with you as the final signatory.”
“An unfortunate series of events.”
Rieka’s stomach lurched as a white-hot fury simmered within her. It wasn’t an apology. But she hadn’t been expecting one. The investigation into the excavation was still ongoing, but they needed someone to take the blame. As a hybrid she had been expendable. It was hard not to take it personally. “Why me?”
“Your reputation precedes you,” Dante stated. “Your previous work is impeccable, if not polarizing.”
That was an understatement.
“Five years ago, most of your acquaintances didn’t appreciate me pointing out that the most beloved statue of Vandana was a forgery. A very realistic one,” Rieka said. The damn artifact had temporarily derailed her career and her life. “I believe the consensus was I should have kept quiet, and most Atlanteans would have kept believing it was authentic.”
“Do you know what the Jimourt is?” Dante asked. He leaned back against the chair, his expression neutral, but his gaze continued to burn through her.
Rieka paused. What game was the Atlantean playing? “I am aware of the event. It is hosted by House Azaes in Egypt, every five hundred years and it is invite only.”
She would have to be living under a rock to not know it was happening next week.
“The crown jewels of House Atlas will be on exhibit,” Dante said. “There is a piece within the collection I want authenticated.”
Her stomach dropped as she suppressed a flinch. It was an opportunity of a lifetime, but there was nothing Dante could offer to make her want to be put in that position again. It had taken more than over two years before she stopped worrying about zealot Atlanteans entering her home. The police hadn’t been able to help her then, and she doubted that would change—not when Atlanteans fell under a different policing jurisdiction.
“No.” Rieka clasped her bag closely. “I appreciate the opportunity, but I’m not interested.”
“Your eyes are the only physical sign of your Atlantean heritage. They are an unusual color. One that I have never come across,” Dante said. “You have never requested acceptance into any of the Houses, even when you were sentenced to juvenile detention.”
Dante made it sound so easy. Like she could walk up to a House and ask for protection. Her own human father had decided that he hadn’t wanted Rieka around, especially with a new wife and a younger daughter. Why would an Atlantean House claim an orphan?
“Those records are supposed to be sealed.”
“Everything has a price.”
It had taken her a long time to come to terms with what happened, but if she controlled the narrative, Dante couldn’t use it against her. The Atlantean was trying to get under her skin and bringing up parts of her history was one way to do it. “I broke into my father’s house. He charged me.”
Dante didn’t blink at the admission.
Rieka shook her head; Alistair Sinclair had been a first-class narcissist. What her mother had ever seen in him, she would never know. As soon as she was old enough, she’d changed her name back to her mother’s surname. She wanted nothing to do with the Sinclair family. “Good luck on your search.”
Dante stood. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Sinha.”
Rieka nodded and turned before she could say something she would regret. She wasn’t ready to put herself at the mercy of the Atlantean elite, not when they would think of her as a pawn. They couldn’t be trusted.
“Goodbye.” She was halfway back to the elevator when she turned. “What is it?”
What the hell was she thinking?
Dante hadn’t moved from where he stood.
“The artifact,” Rieka clarified. Goddamn curiosity—she must be part cat or something.
“It is a sketch of Vandana, the only one of its existence. It was drawn fifteen hundred years ago.”
Dante’s tone was unchanged, but it was clear she had just walked into his trap.
“I’m not promising anything.”
“Of course,” Dante agreed. He touched a small button on the nearby desk as the lights dimmed.
The surrounding air shimmered for a moment as a hologram solidified. There was no use pretending she wasn’t interested in the artifact. She would have already been in the elevator if that was the case. But looking wasn’t a promise. “Is it still in the collection?”
“The collection has remained untouched.”
She would never understand why the Atlanteans only opened the vault to the royal treasures every five hundred years. There was so much information they could have gathered and analyzed if it wasn’t for their archaic traditions. “When are the artifacts being moved to New Atlantis?”
Dante looked bored, as if it was old news.
“I’ve heard the rumors,” Rieka said. Only the Atlantean elite were daft enough to build a new island—albeit one that floated in the stratosphere—and name it New Atlantis. “It’s not a secret.”
“No,” Dante agreed. “But you are not here to discuss Atlantean politics.”
Strong charcoal lines took shape. The process was painstakingly slow. If she didn’t know any better, she would have bet that Dante had slowed the download for dramatic impact. After a decade of research, she had studied every known version of the last Atlantean queen. Rieka gazed back at the hologram and stopped.
A black-and-white image of Vandana wearing armor towered over her. The queen held a sword in her left hand. Rieka couldn’t breathe. It was the same image she had seen in the temple. She hadn’t imagined it. Rieka saw that face every night before she fell asleep.
“Have you seen it before?”
She glanced toward Dante. He appeared far more interested in her reaction than her verbal response.
Rieka swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. and lied, “No.”
The camera had recorded nothing of her exploration, and she had told no one else—not even Chay—about it before the explosion. Or mentioned it during the investigation.
It took a moment to find her voice. “I will review it.” It could be a clue to finding the location of the tomb and understanding why her mom had dedicated her life to finding it. But she needed to see it in person. “In exchange, I want full access to all the artifacts and to be reinstated to my previous role.”
Silence greeted her.
As far as Rieka was aware, only a handful of Atlanteans were given access, where most of the elites were relegated to viewing the handpicked pieces during the four-day exhibit. A hybrid, especially one with her academic reputation, would not be an easy sell to convince the Atlantean council that she should have access.
“You do not ask for much.”
If she was going to make a deal with a devil, she was going to get something out of it. “Unless you think you can’t persuade the council to give me access?”
A ghost of a smile tugged at Dante’s lips, the humor not reaching his cold eyes.
Rieka swallowed. Were her demands too much? No.
The silence grew between them. Rieka didn’t need to study the image—every part had been etched into her memory since the temple. Instead she was hyper-focused on the handsome-as-sin Atlantean.
“Deal?” Rieka said. “We will be partners.”
Dante looked at her hand.
Rieka refused to budge. Dante needed her. There were thousands of archaeologists he could have hired, but he had asked for her. She would not dig too deep into that one—this would be her only chance to have access to the vault.
“Deal.”
An electrical current ran through her at his touch. She took a step back, her hand still tingling as she grabbed her bag.
He leaned against the metal frame of his desk as he crossed his arms. “Sypha will send you details for the travel arrangements.”
And like that, she was dismissed. She strode toward the elevator, ignoring the feeling she was being studied by a predator who wore designer suits.
She held Dante’s gaze as the doors slowly closed.
“You may want to work on your ability to lie.”
Fuck.
She had forgotten about the Atlantean heightened senses.