Page 84 of Wasted
That jerk had really scared her.
“I’m sorry.” Cillian rested his hand on her shoulder, lightly so as not to irritate any bruises there. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
She lifted her chin. “Nonsense. I suggested we split up.”
There she was. The strong, no-nonsense Victoria he loved.
“But thank you.” She moistened her lips and glanced away before returning her gaze to his. “I don’t know what he might have done if…” Her voice pinched as if she was about to cry.
Cillian’s gut twisted. He pulled her into his arms.
She allowed it, her cheek pressing against his chest as she squeezed his triceps in one hand with a death grip that revealed more than anything.
His heart cracked a little. He tucked her in closer, cinched his arms tighter, wanting her to feel safe. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
She let him hold her, her grip on his arm relaxing with her whole body as she slowly melted against him.
Then, too soon, she pulled away. Her eyelashes lifted to reveal those hazel beauties, filled with something new.
Maybe, he could imagine, it was actually something old—something like the adoration and longing she used to feel for him. The affection. The love.
But no, that wasn’t it. This was deeper, something more grown-up and solid. Trust?
He wouldn’t know unless he asked or she told him. But if she was starting to trust him, to care for him again, he wouldn’t ruin it by being nosy and scaring her off.
He cleared his throat. “Do you want to leave? I can drive you home and come back for your car later.”
“No.” Her jaw tightened. “We need to find what Ryan was after, what he was afraid I might discover here.”
Seemed Ryan’s attack had backfired. Cillian smiled. That was his Victoria. “Let’s do it. I found a bunch of papers in a hidden compartment behind a bookshelf in the library.”
“Really?” She stared at him.
“Yep.”
“It seems they don’t only exist in stories after all.”
Cillian chuckled. “I guess not. I was coming to ask if you want to sift through them with me.”
Her mouth curved in a closed smile that made his pulse skitter. “I’d like nothing better.”
He stuck close to her as they went downstairs and to the library, but she was rebounding fast. Her walk and posture were as graceful and perfect as always.
They spread out the papers on the desk in the corner of the library and pored over them for what felt like an hour. Cillian never had liked paperwork or research.
“Did you see this?” Victoria lifted a sheet of paper in her hand.
Cillian stopped himself from pointing out he couldn’t possibly have seen anything in her section of papers when he’d been busy looking through his. “What is it?”
“Documents, receipts, certificates of authenticity.” Her brow furrowed adorably as she peered down at the papers she lined up in a row on the desk.
Cillian moved closer beside her and scanned the information.
Images of paintings with estimated values printed beneath them. Authenticity reports.
Wait. “This one verifies the authenticity of this painting.” He put his finger on the document. “But this report,” he pointed to the paper directly in front of her, “says the same painting is a fake?”
She shook her head. “It’s not the same one.” She sifted through papers and pulled out another sheet. “This documents Thomas’s donation to the museum for both of those paintings and the dates they were authenticated prior to his donation.” She set the paper in front of Cillian, and his gaze fell on the date.
