Page 24 of Violet Legacy

“Rieka.”

Dante’s voice went straight through her. Her heart fluttered; she really should stop getting distracted by Dante. Rieka slowly lowered the artifact back onto the table, careful not to disturb the others she’d laid out.

“You need a bell,” Rieka said. She turned to face him and promptly forgot what else she was about to say. Dante was impeccably dressed in a tailored white shirt, rolled at the sleeves, and black pants. Rieka had never been so distracted by male forearms before, but somehow the rolled-up sleeves, the hint of his dark olive Mediterranean skin with a sprinkling of dark hair, were making her stomach do somersaults. This wasn’t a romance book. “Or a warning sound.”

Good save, Sinha. No one will believe you have a doctorate if you keep this up.

What would his mouth feel like against her skin? Dante drew her in like a moth to a flame, and she was almost willing to see how close she could be to him before she was consumed by it. Just like her need to touch Vandana’s flame.

Dante’s smile grew wider; his eyes brightened until they glowed neon green.

Fuck. Heightened senses.

It didn’t matter. She was at the Jimourt for one reason only, and Dante wasn’t it. The fantasies could wait until after she found the tomb.

“How long have you been here?” she asked. She was going to learn to not have a single-minded focus on what she was doing. The place could have burned down around her, and she wouldn’t have noticed.

“Long enough to know that you play with your hair when you are concentrating,” Dante reached out, tugging an errant curl away from her face as he tucked it behind her ear.

Heat flushed through her at the barest touch. An intimacy she hadn’t been expecting but wanted so much more of.

“What are you looking at?” Dante asked. As if he didn’t realize what his effect on her was. She couldn’t fool the heightened senses, no matter how much she tried.

Rieka looked at the table, grateful for the distraction. If there was one thing she could do without thinking, it was talk for hours about Atlantean artifacts. “The amulet. I have never seen the imagery before. It depicts a battle, but one warrior looks like it has wings.” She reached out and picked up the piece she’d been looking at before and held it up for Dante to see. “Stylistically, it is similar to the artifacts from Göbekli Tepe.”

“Winged beings. I don’t recall any of the Atlantean myths dealing with anyone who fits that description. Angelic beings are a human creation.” Dante pointed to the corner of the amulet, to an area barely bigger than a speck. “You can see there is a chip in this. It must connect to another piece.”

Rieka brought it closer. There, on the edge of the artifact, was the slightest indention. She frowned. Somehow, she had missed it. But now that Dante had mentioned it, it was all she noticed. Without missing a beat, she turned to look at Dante. At no point had he suggested that he was an expert in ancient Atlantean artifacts, but she couldn’t quite dissuade herself from the notion that he knew far more than he let on. “When does the vault open?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Even for you?”

Dante shrugged; the fabric of his shirt stretched across his broad frame. “Even for me.”

“Don’t you have meetings to attend to?”

“No.”

Rieka blinked at him. He was in no rush to leave.

A minuscule part of Rieka was thrilled at spending more time with him. The mere thought sent a tingle through her as she clenched her thighs together. The last thing she’d expected was for him to take an interest in the artifacts. To many of the wealthy, artifacts and art were to be collected and displayed not because of their intrinsic worth but because of the perception of owning the unusual—a tangible part of history.

The other part, the practical part, knew she wouldn’t be able to look for the key to the tomb under Dante’s watchful gaze. Rieka would bet he knew more than she did, which begged the question. Why was she there? “I didn’t take you as someone who would enjoy the practical aspect of archeology.”

Dante chuckled. The sound warmed Rieka.

“Do not believe everything you read.” Dante picked up a small piece and held it to the light. “I spent a formidable part of my childhood cataloging these very artifacts.” He placed it next to the amulet. “It was not a pastime I would wish on a foe.”

Rieka glanced at Dante, studying him purposefully. The wistful edge to his tone was subtle, maybe a memory that still affected him. She never actually questioned how Atlanteans viewed their history. Living for a couple of millennia would skew how they viewed everything. It would also explain their emotional distance from humanity. How would she feel if she knew that no matter what she did, all her human connections would pass into dust long before she had even lived a quarter of her life span—moments she took for granted would be a long-distant memory. She did not want to go down that path.

“I can’t imagine you as a child,” Rieka said earnestly. She raked her memory, trying to recall any tidbit of knowledge of Dante or his family. “Aren’t you a twin?”

“I assure you, I was not spawned fully grown. Despite what some may believe,” Dante said. “I have a sister, but she much prefers to stay within the confines of her lab than venture out to the real world.”

Rieka chuckled. She could well imagine some things Dante had been called. She believed every one of them, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to learn more or stifle the desire to touch him. “What do you get out of understanding if the statue is a forgery or authentic?”

Dante picked up another artifact, a small pale blue bead. He held it delicately between his fingers as he turned it around. “Nothing.”

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