Season List for The Collector

Season 1: The Collector

Season 2: The Collector’s Curse

【01】Lost and Found

WARNING: This story contains mature themes and strong language that may not be suitable for some readers.

“What on earth is that?” asked Henry, our resident restorer, lover of all things old.

Before us was the biggest, most uniquely shaped sword, we’d ever received at the museum. Not only was it huge and heavy, it was also full from the pommel to the point. Even more than that, it was in perfect shape, unbent and unbroken underneath a thick layer of dirt and rust. How had this survived Mr. McCaine’s tractor?

“It’s so much bigger than I thought it would be. The picture didn’t do it justice,” I replied.

“I’ve never seen anything like that before.” His light-brown eyes traveled the length of the blade. “It’s much bigger than any Viking sword ever found. It’s got to be a two-handed blade, which means it should be five, six centuries older than the rest.” His tone was uncertain.

“It can’t be two-handed; look at the grip.” I put my hands across the handle, as if to hold it. “You can barely fit two of my hands, much less two hands of whoever could wield this.”

Seemingly just as confused as I was, Henry tried to make sense of this strange finding. Reaching for the grip, he tried to lift it single-handedly. He lasted five seconds, his arm trembling from the effort, before putting it back.

“Bloody hell, I can’t imagine swinging this around—even with two hands.”

Perplexed, we stood side by side as we studied it. I racked my brain, trying to understand what this could mean. The dirt on the blade seemed to match the dirt on the rest of the artifacts we’d found, so they probably came from the same field.

“Maybe it wasn’t meant for war,” Henry suggested.

“You mean it could be an ornamental weapon?”

“Possibly, yes. I mean, I’ve never seen a sword shaped like this.”

He was right. The pommel, grip, and cross-guard most certainly drew from Viking inspiration, but the size itself didn’t. The old Norse civilization usually favored weapons that required less metal—which was a valued resource—like axes and spears. The former was preferred because of its versatility; not only did it serve as an efficient weapon in battle, but it also turned into a handy tool around a camp or a settlement.

If the sword we had in front of us was indeed Viking, then it had belonged to someone particularly wealthy—someone who’d wanted to show off that they could afford this much metal on a single weapon, especially if it was purely ornamental, which wasn’t a ludicrous theory. The Vikings had preferred weapons that were easier to wield, as they had relied on agility and speed to stand a chance in battle since they didn’t wear armor like chain mail. A sword this size would have been difficult to swing, and it would have slowed the wielder down.

Maybe it was a king’s trophy. Its value would be priceless, then.

I leaned closer to inspect more of the details, trying to picture what it had looked like all those centuries ago, before the years had altered its condition. The blade itself had an odd shape, with a prominent tip, which wasn’t usual at all. And toward the cross-guard, right before what must have been the ricasso—the unsharpened bottom of the blade—the metal widened to form two pointy tips. Then it narrowed again.

A suspicion kindled in my gut as I absorbed the details of the artifact. I had a strange feeling that I’d already seen this design before. If this was really an ancient piece, and not some bad joke the sender, Annie McCaine, was pulling on us, then it was an invaluable, unique sword like no other. So why did I feel like I’d already seen it somewhere?

The realization struck me like a punch in the stomach. My heart dropped low, and my eyes widened with shock. How had I not recognized it sooner?

“Oh my God.” My hand flew to Henry’s arm.

His head turned toward me, his eyes inquisitive. “What?”

“Henry…”

“What?!”

“Henry!”

“Mila, use your words, would you?”

“I need—” I stopped, too excited to think properly, and hurried toward the door. “I have to get something in the office!”

“What is happening!”

“If I’m right, this is the best day ever! Get it to your lab!”

I was already out in the hallway, too frenzied to calm down and explain. Because we couldn’t waste a second, and because I suspected he wasn’t taking me seriously, I forced myself to turn around, though, and returned to the door. When I tilted my head through the frame, I found Henry still where I had left him, immobile.

“Henry, now!” I urged. “Take the sword to your lab and I’ll join you there.”

I practically ran all the way to the Britain and Europe department, where my shared office was located, only slowing down when I crossed someone, greeting them with a nod before hurrying again. If I was right, and if my memory wasn’t playing tricks on me, then this sword could be the biggest, most insane finding of my entire career. Even though I was only twenty-five years old and three years into the job. It was almost impossible to keep my excitement under control.

When I burst into the office, my boss, Ian, and my colleague, Ingrid, turned my way with surprised glances. They were at their respective desks, working on their computers, so I offered them a wince to apologize for the interruption. Both of them were very laid-back, though, so I knew I hadn’t truly bothered them, but rather startled them.

Ian was a tall and broad Scot like only the Highlands could produce. He was a little old-school in some aspects of the job, but overall, he was open to new ideas and new things. Twice a week, he gave lectures at the UCL Institute of Archaeology, which was where I’d first met him. He’d been one of my role models ever since that day; I aspired to have a career like his. He also reminded me of my father a lot, and he was aware of that; the bond we had resembled a father-daughter one, rather than being boss and employee.

As for Ingrid, she’d arrived five years before me, straight from Oslo. She looked the part, with her blonde hair, pale skin, blue eyes, and tall figure. Her knowledge of Viking culture rivaled both mine and Ian’s. She was our Scandinavian folklore encyclopedia, thanks to her insane memory. She was a little shy and rarely expressed herself, which was a shame because I adored her accent.

I went straight to my desk and lifted a messy pile of papers to find what I sought.

“Mullins’ secretary called. He wants to see you, Mila,” Ian explained.

Even though I’d done nothing wrong, knowing that the museum’s director had asked after me triggered some worries.

“Right now?” I ask.

“Well, it sounded urgent.”

Crap. I was on the verge of making the biggest discovery of my career, and my boss wanted to see me? Terrible timing.

I nodded, forcing a smile on my face, and made my way to the upper floor and the Director’s office. The entire way there, I did my best to breathe and calm down. It was alright. The sword wasn’t going anywhere.

During the elevator ride, I checked myself in the tall mirror, hoping I wouldn’t look too tired. My hair was fine, flowing in dark waves on my back and over my shoulders. My silky beige shirt wasn’t crumpled, and the skinny jeans it was tucked into were my second favorite, so, nice ones. My dark brown eyes weren’t as lively as they used to be, because I’d been anxiously anticipating the delivery of the crates, which had made sleep hard to come by. I fixed my tired state by pinching my cheeks hard to bring up some color to my face. It wouldn’t last long on my olive skin, but it was better than nothing.

I reached the small lobby before the director’s office, and his secretary looked at me from over her computer with a smile. “Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes, uh… Mr. Mullins wanted to see me? I’m Mila Connelly, Viking department.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, love, they just left minutes ago.” They ? Before I could ask, she continued. “But Mr. Mullins wants to see you, yes. Maybe you could go find him? He told me he’d be in the Viking gallery.”

“Yes, I can do that. Hmm…” Seeing in this the opportunity to return to my findings, I offered, “Should I come back later, actually? I’d rather not disturb him if he’s in a meeting with someone.”

“Oh no, it’s all good, love. You can go find him now.” She offered me another sweet smile before returning her attention to her computer.

Even tenser than when I’d arrived, I exited the lobby and headed to the stairs. By the time I reached the public side of the museum, I’d realized it couldn’t be anything worrying. If Mr. Mullins still wanted to see me despite being in the middle of something with another person, it couldn’t possibly be bad for me.

The museum was as busy as ever, swarming with visitors. As always when I found myself in the middle of all this, pride spread through my mind. It was an honor to be working in such a prestigious institution, and I was more than thankful for the life decisions I’d made in the past that had brought me here. It hadn’t always been easy, especially those four years of double degrees where I’d barely seen anyone, but it had been worth it.

As soon as I entered the Viking gallery, I looked around to locate Mr. Mullins. I found him facing the opposite way and talking with another man. My attention latched on the interlocutor while I made my way toward them. The man had his back to me as well and was looking at the partially reconstructed ax head before him. He was tall and broad, almost looking like a giant compared to Mr. Mullins’ average size. Or anyone else’s in the room, actually. He was wearing a tailored charcoal suit, and his hair was slicked back in a stylish way. Was he a light brunette, or was he dark blond? I couldn’t tell from afar.

The closer I got to them, the more uneasy I felt. My earlier worries were surfacing again, and I was struggling to contain them this time. The stranger turned to the side a little, revealing part of his profile to my sight. A prickling shiver ran up my spine as I eyed the details of him, clearer with each step I took. By now, I could tell he was a dark shade of blond, too light to be considered brown.

This teaser of him, so striking and well-proportioned, was enough for me to know he was a remarkably attractive man. But it wasn’t just that. No, there was something about the energy he exuded, the way he held himself, the assurance that emanated from his demeanor.

This man was far from being the average guy. From thirty feet away, I already knew he was different from anyone else I’d ever known.

My breath caught in my throat when he twisted his neck and all of his face appeared to me. I didn’t halt my journey their way, but it took a conscious effort to keep walking. As if he’d sensed my gaze on him, his light blue irises sought me in an instant. Above his deep-set, hooded eyes, dirty-blond eyebrows were slightly furrowed. The seriousness of his frown only made him more attractive, somehow. The tie he wore was the same shade as his eyes, accentuating the stunning asset he’d been born with.

I’d guessed the squareness of his jaw already, but it still surprised me. Every one of his features was so sharp, so ideally modeled it seemed someone had made him. This man had to be the product of someone’s fantasy, and that someone might as well have been me.

The stranger’s eyes were still on me, unrelenting, and I was as if hypnotized by their intensity. Mr. Mullins noticed that his interlocutor’s attention wasn’t on him anymore, so he looked my way as well, just as I was reaching the pair.

“Ah, Miss Connelly!” he greeted me with gentle enthusiasm. My eyes were still spellbound by the stranger’s, but I forced myself to look away, ripping away from his cerulean irises. As someone of above-average size, no one really made me feel small or petite, aside from Ian. But next to this man, I felt tiny, almost frail.

Putting myself on autopilot, since my thoughts weren’t cooperating, I offered a smile to my boss.

“Hello, sir. Sorry for the wait. I went to your office, and your secretary told me to meet you here instead. I hope I’m not interrupting,” I added, purposefully not looking at the man. I didn’t want to stare again, but I might if I glimpsed up at his perfect face.

“No, this is brilliant. Let me introduce you to Ulrik Westergaard, one of our most generous benefactors.” Ah, damn it… Since I didn’t have a choice, I gazed up at the man, plastering a smile on my face. “Mr. Westergaard, this is Jamila Connelly.”

The gorgeous giant extended a hand my way, and I hesitated a moment before slipping mine into it. When I did, my slim hand disappeared into his massive one, and an electric jolt traveled up my arm as soon as we touched.

What on earth is happening?

“I’m—uh, I go by Mila,” I struggled to say once we’d shared a firm handshake.

“And I go by Ulrik.”

His voice was lower than I thought it would be, oozing sex appeal as if he’d trained for hours in front of a mirror. And there was a slim trace of a Scandinavian accent, but I’d need more to pinpoint from where exactly.

Dear God… Who was this man, and would I need an underwear change by the end of this?

I was still trying to recuperate from the man’s bewitching voice when my boss spoke again.

“Mr. Westergaard’s family has been donating to the museum for generations—centuries, even. I believe it dates back to when the museum first opened?” Mr. Mullins was unaware of the turmoil raging within me, so I took it as a sign that I was hiding it better than I thought.

“We might have been a few decades late,” the blond said. He added a small, humble smile to his response, and it made everything warm up inside of me.

Norwegian. He was Norwegian for sure.

“Well, I won’t hold it against you.”

I’d never seen Mr. Mullins being so deferential before. Of course, one of the man’s main jobs was to garner donations, so he was always very courteous and respectful of potential or actual benefactors. But his attitude toward Mr. Westergaard was much more complacent than usual. Maybe he was affected by the man’s physical appearance—just like I was. Or maybe Mr. Westergaard was an even bigger fish than I’d thought.

The director’s phone buzzed in his chest pocket, so he retrieved it before checking the message he’d received. With a small, disapproving sigh, he returned it to his pocket. “My apologies, it seems I have to leave.”

“Nothing too bad, I hope,” Mr. Westergaard said.

“No, not at all. But it is time-sensitive, otherwise, I would have remained with you. But I believe you’ll be in excellent hands,” Mullins added, patting my shoulder. “Miss Connelly, may I have a moment, please?”

I nodded, hella confused by what was happening, and followed him a little farther. He bent my way, and with a low voice, he told me, “Mr. Westergaard and his family have donated to this museum more than anyone else. I trust you to treat him with the utmost respect. We cannot lose his generous contributions, Miss Connelly. Do you understand?”

“Uh… Yes, of course. But I’m not sure what I’m doing here, Mr. Mullins.”

His phone buzzed again, and he let out another irritated sigh. “Please, just be your lovely, passionate self with Mr. Westergaard, and everything should be good.”

Before I could ask anything, Mr. Mullins left me to fend through the visitors. In shock, I remained where I stood for a moment, struggling to grasp what had just happened. I’d literally just met the most attractive man of my life, and I was now supposed to keep him happy and satisfied?

What in the hell?

【02】Anatomy of a Ship

“Is everything alright?” a deep voice asked behind me.

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose at once, and another of those shivers crept up my spine. Was it me, or was the room suddenly hot?

With an artificial grin bending my lips, I turned to the tall glass of water that was Ulrik Westergaard. Ugh, he had to know just how attractive he was, which explained why he was dripping with confidence.

“Yes, sorry about that, sir.”

“Please, call me Ulrik.”

No, that wasn’t happening. He’d remain Mr. Westergaard. My unruly libido would be—even more—all over the place if we were on a first-name basis.

“Has he shown you the entire gallery?” I politely asked.

“Not all of it, no.”

With a gesture of my hand, I invited him to proceed. Mr. Mullins would be back soon, so all I had to do was to keep the man busy long enough until I could return to my findings. Hopefully, Henry wouldn’t worry too much about my lengthened absence.

“I suppose Mr. Mullins already explained, but this wing is dedicated to the Brits and Vikings history, from as early as the ninth century to the thirteenth one,” I explained.

“Yes, he mentioned that. You are from the Viking department, aren’t you?”

Surprised that he would know such a detail about my position here, I gave him a confused look. “I am, yes. How do you know?”

“We have common friends.”

I raked my brain to try to find who it could be. Throughout my years here, I’d met quite a few people in Norway. The first one that came to mind, though, was the most logical explanation, given Mr. Westergaard’s apparent interest in history and museums. “Do you mean Dr. Henriksen?”

The glimmer of amusement tainted with surprise that sparkled in his eyes told me I was right. “Yes, I do mean Gustaf.”

Just then, we passed by a class of young children amassed around their teacher. Protected under a glass case, there was a longship model, and the class was looking at it with interest.

“Is this a warship, ma’am?” a little boy asked his teacher.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

With a grimace, I turn to Mr. Westergaard. “My apologies, but I cannot let misinformation spread.”

In all honesty, sharing my passion and passing it on to others was my favorite thing in the world. Also, I could use a brief break from the man’s bewitching aura.

“Actually, Vikings used their ships for many reasons,” I explained, making my way next to the glassed case. “A longship like this could be used for commerce, or exploration, or as you’ve said, war.” The teacher looked at me with surprise, but when she saw the interest the kids were showing, she allowed me to continue.

“Do you see how flat the bottom is?” I asked them, gesturing toward the relevant part at the same time. When I looked up, Mr. Westergaard was looking at me with interest, his arms crossed over his broad chest, muscles bulging under the perfectly tailored sleeves of his suit. I cleared my throat, uneasy, and continued. “Well, because of the way they shaped their boats, Vikings could sail into very shallow waters without having the keen touching the bottom. It meant they could sail right onto a beach and attack swiftly. They were also known to sail up rivers, which brought them deep into enemy territories and gave them a tactical advantage.”

“What happened if there was no wind?” a red-haired girl asked.

Before I could answer, Mr. Westergaard’s baritone voice rose in my stead. “Well, when Njörd, the god of sea and wind, didn’t favor them, Vikings used oars to keep moving. That way, they never had to wait for their explorations to continue. Also, do you see how the boat has the same shape in the front and in the back? Having their ships shaped like this meant they could sail in the opposite direction without having to maneuver the boat around.”

Well, knowing the man shared my passion for Vikings only added to how attractive I found him. Mr. Mullins had better arrive soon, or I might combust on the spot.

“Sorry, we’ve imposed enough,” I told the teacher with an apologetic smile.

“Oh no, that’s fine. We were supposed to have a guide, but he couldn’t make it in the end. We’re almost done now, but it was nice having some deeper explanations.”

“My pleasure.” Smiling at her one last time, I made my way out of the group. She told them to say, “Goodbye to the nice man and lady,” and I waved at them while they obeyed.

“You know your stuff,” I told Mr. Westergaard once we were alone.

“You too. I’m sorry for stepping in, but I was feeling rather useless.”

“I have the feeling this isn’t something you experience very often.”

He chuckled at my bold remark. “I do not indeed.”

I looked around, searching for something to distract me from how his low laugh made me feel. “I’m sure Mr. Mullins will be back in no time. Maybe I can escort you to his off—”

“No, that’s alright. I’m not here to see him.”

“Oh, who are you here for?”

“Well, I’m here for you.”

I actually had to keep my jaw from dropping, but there was nothing I could do about the way his words inflamed my lower belly. Holy smokes. Okay, this was a dream. I’d fallen asleep on Henry’s desk, and now I was having some kind of sexy dream that unfolded in my workplace.

Still, just in case it wasn’t, I produced an answer. “Wh— Uh… I’m sorry, what? No offense, but I’ve never heard of you before, so I fail to see why you’d want to meet me, sir.”

What he said next pretty much confirmed that this was all a dream.

“You have something that I want, Miss Connelly.”

Although I prided myself on being a smart woman, my brain somehow refused to conjure a decent answer. It seemed that being in front of a tall, broad, and charismatic man who embodied my every fantasy was what it took to shut me up.

So, because I’d forgotten how to speak, we did nothing other than stare at each other for a moment. It took the corners of his lips bending into a crooked smile to shake me out of my frozen state.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific than that, Mr. Westergaard.”

“Ulrik. And of course. I’m an avid collector, you see. My entire family has been collecting artifacts for many generations, which is why we have always cultivated an interest in museums such as this one. Most of the Westergaard collection is exhibited all around the world, the rest is private. I, myself, am particularly interested in Viking antiques.”

His explanation didn’t do much to clear things up, so I frowned. “Are you saying you’d like to buy something from the museum’s collection?”

“That’s exactly it, Miss Connelly.”

“Sorry, I don’t know what your arrangement with Mr. Mullins is, but we don’t sell pieces to whoever comes in with a big wallet. Imagine Elon Musk walking in here and leaving with the Rosetta Stone because it would look great in his living room.” My example brought the ghost of a smile to his lips, even though I hadn’t meant to be humorous. “As you may know, we host a few auction sales every year. You’re free to come back during one of those and bid on the selected items that interest you. Some you’ll get to take home and some will have to remain part of the museum’s collection, but you’ll be the legal owner.”

“I’m afraid the proper channels won’t work for me. Not this time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir. But we don’t always get to have what we want.”

“You’re wrong there. I always get what I want, Miss Connelly.”

There was something in his tone and in the way he was looking at me that left me speechless. This man was truly something else, and I still wasn’t sure why I was here with him.

A child from the class outing suddenly appeared by my side. “Miss?” the blonde girl asked, tearing me out of my confused state. I turned to her with a smile. “Did Viking women exist?”

“Oh, this is a good question… Well, Scandinavian women in the Viking era mostly remained behind to look after the children and the house, while their husbands sailed away for raids, trades, or explorations. But there have been instances of women joining the men for war. We call them shield-maidens. They used to call them skjoldmø.”

To my surprise, Mr. Westergaard squatted to be leveled with the girl. “It was even more than that. They found a grave in Sweden that held the remnants of a woman warrior. And with her, they also found two horses, many weapons, and a board game that resembles chess. Because of all that, it is believed she was not only a skilled warrior, but an important battle strategist as well. So, not only could women take part in Viking affairs, they sometimes led it.”

The girl was riveted by this new piece of information. She thanked him with enthusiasm before hurrying away, calling out to her friend to share the fact with her.

My interest returned to Mr. Westergaard, who stood up, all-mighty again. I hadn’t foreseen this side of him. He wasn’t just a collector; he was also knowledgeable and interested in Viking history.

“You know, there is still some controversy about the Birka grave,” I told him. “Many are disputing the fact that a woman could have had any sort of commanding power in tenth century Scandinavia.”

“I’ll venture that the ones arguing aren’t well acquainted with women, then. Imagine expecting the members of your sex to stick to children and field duties while men had all the fun… That’s more of a ludicrous idea than some women taking up arms and fighting.” He was still looking at the girl, who was excitedly sharing with her group of girlfriends what she’d learned.

His tone was solely appreciative, almost admirative, even, and his take on my gender put a grin on my face. “Are you saying we are stubborn creatures?”

It was his turn to smile. “I am. And I think you might be amongst the most stubborn of them, Miss Connelly.” He’d bent my way to keep his voice low, so when he turned to me to say the rest, he was close enough for me to feel the warmth of his minty breath. “But that’s alright because I’m a stubborn man myself.”

This sounded like a declaration of war. One I wasn’t sure I could win.

Just to prove that I wasn’t that stubborn, I decided to be a little more amiable. “Can I ask what’s the artifact you’re looking for? Maybe I can help you if I’m familiar with it.”

“I believe you received a couple of crates from a certain Annie McCain. Fairly recently, so you should be familiar with it.”

Even though the crates from Annie McCaine contained many pieces, I knew exactly which one he was talking about. It could only be that one because, of all our findings, it was the only one with real value. The one I’d noticed in the pictures the woman had sent. The reason I had insisted that she sent us the crates at once.

Something rebelled in me at the thought of him taking the sword away from me. If I was right about its origin, me getting it was as close to an act of God as I’d ever seen. I wouldn’t let it go. Not now, not ever.

No matter who he was to this museum or how rich he was, Ulrik Westergaard wouldn’t get it. Even if he was used to getting everything he wanted.

“Dr. Henricksen told you about it,” I said frustratedly. Now, I felt foolish for excitedly sending out McCaine’s pictures to my old professor.

“Don’t blame him for it, love. He’s an old friend of mine, and he knows I’ve been looking for that sword for a long time.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, Mr. Westergaard, but the sword isn’t for sale.”

“Don’t you know that everything has a price, Miss Connelly?”

His attitude and the haughtiness with which he viewed life had the same effect as a cold shower on me. This man didn’t live in the same reality as I did. What I’d first perceived as confidence was slowly turning out to be arrogance—a flaw that I particularly despised.

“Not this time,” I coldly told him. “Have a good day, sir.”

【03】Orvyn’s Codex

Irritated that I’d let myself be fooled by a dashing face and a pair of strikingly blue eyes, I turned around and walked away. Mr. Mullins could handle whatever business this man was here for. I was out.

Barely two steps in, a powerful hand wrapped itself around my arm, sending another one of those jolty shivers all the way up to my shoulder. Although his grip was firm and enough to halt my escape, he wasn’t hurting me.

I glared down at his fingers over the beige silk of my shirt, which made him release me right away. He lifted his hands as a sign of rendition and apology, but something told me he wasn’t ready to let it go yet.

“Please, Miss Connelly. Can we go somewhere less…crowded?”

I looked around at the visitors, reluctant to comply. But as much as I didn’t want him to get the sword, he was still a special guest, so I couldn’t just abandon him in the middle of the Viking gallery and refuse to entertain him.

I held back a sigh, forcing myself to look up at him again. “We can go to one of the conference rooms.”

“Actually, I would like to see the sword. If that’s possible, of course.”

“We don’t allow outside people in that part of the museum.”

“I’ll behave.” The half-smile he gave me seemed to confer the opposite. Ugh, this man was bad news, wasn’t he? “I’ll be out of your hair after that, I promise.”

Well, committing an infraction to the museum’s very strict rules suddenly seemed like an acceptable price. Mr. Mullins had told me to treat the man with the utmost respect anyway, so it wasn’t entirely my fault.

“Alright, I guess we can make an exception for such an illustrious donator,” I agreed. The irony I felt wasn’t entirely hidden in my tone, but if he noticed, he didn’t seem to care.

He followed me as I walked back to the private side of the museum, and we mutually decided on remaining silent. Once we’d passed the door labeled “Staff only,” though, he asked, “Have you been working here for long?”

“Soon to be three years.”

“You look awfully young to be three years into a historian job at the country’s biggest museum.”

“Well, I worked very hard, met the right people, and jumped on the opportunity when it came.”

“Many others are doing exactly the same but failing, love.”

It was the second time he used this pet name on me, and it irritated me more than the first time. I didn’t like it when men I barely knew called me “love.” It sounded belittling and condescending.

“My father worked with the museum for over two decades. He got me an internship that turned into a permanent stay.”

“Ah, so strings were pulled.”

I stopped walking at once, disliking his tone. “As I’ve said, Mr. Westergaard, I’ve given everything I have to get here. Although my dad made a phone call three years ago, he isn’t the reason why I occupy my position now. I’m responsible for that, through dedication, hard work, and countless all-nighters of studying for my diplomas.”

For the first time since I’d met him, I noticed doubt on his features. His eyes scanned mine for a quick instant, and then he returned to his confident attitude. “My apologies, Miss Connelly. I didn’t mean to offend you, nor was I making a demeaning comment about your position here by questioning your abilities. I was merely trying to understand how a young person like yourself ended up with such a coveted job.”

“That’s ageism, then.”

“Is it when one uses facts, statistics, and cold hard numbers to reach a logical conclusion?”

My mouth opened and closed a couple of times as my brain tried to come up with something to say. My annoyance with the man had blinded me, and I had made a cretin of myself.

“I imagine you’re too young to see the difference,” he continued. Before indignation could set into my mind, he leaned toward me with a half-hidden smirk. “Now, that was ageism, Miss Connelly.”

When he pulled away from me, it wasn’t mockery but indulgence bending his lips in a slight grin. He’d gotten me a free pass, a way out of that embarrassing moment I’d put myself into. The graciousness of his gesture made it impossible for me to hide my thankfulness. After a nod and a small smile, I resumed our walk to my office.

“Is your father a historian as well?” he asked a few seconds later.

“And archeologist.”

“A field man, then. Have you ever wanted to do that as well?”

“Maybe one day. I’ll see after my PhD.”

He remained silent for the remainder of the hallway we were in, and I wondered if he was already out of questions.

“Dr. Mila Connelly…” he said as if testing it out. “It has a nice ring to it.” Gosh, him saying my name with his baritone voice was doing things to me. And the honorary title before it nearly did me in.

“It does. I need to get something from my desk. Wait here,” I ordered.

Ian looked up when I entered the shared office. “Everything good with Mullins?”

“Yeah. He just—has a special guest I need to handle,” I explained, rampaging through my desk to find my tablet.

“I see. Did you find anything good in those crates?” my boss asked, unfazed by my behavior. He was used to my passionate intensity by now, and had even told me it was the reason why I’d gotten the job in the first place.

“So many things, actually. But I think we found one particularly good piece. I just need my damn tablet so I can confirm it.”

“I saw it by the printer,” Ingrid kindly interjected.

“Oh, thanks.” I dropped the papers I was holding and stormed to the printer. It was there indeed.

“By the way, Mila, I need to remind ye that this is a shared space,” Ian indulgently began. “I’d like for ye to take a moment this afternoon to organize yer—”

“I will. I promise I will,” I cut him off, too agitated to linger around. “I’ll tell you if I’m right about the artifact!”

As soon as I was out, I gestured to Mr. Westergaard to follow me. “Let’s go.”

“You’re a very bossy woman,” he pointed out, easily catching up with me.

“Irritated is what I am. I haven’t even registered the sword in the inventory, and you’re already trying to steal it away from me.”

“It isn’t registered yet? I supposed that’s good for me. And at least you didn’t have time to get attached.”

Oh, but I was attached. So much more than he could ever imagine.

We reached the lab quickly, and entered it without knocking. Henry was alone in there anyway, and he was expecting me. Even though he worked for almost all the departments on this floor, I knew he preferred the Viking team—which made sense, because I was on it, and I was a delight to be around.

He was bent over his microscope, and he didn’t stop whatever he was doing when I stepped inside. As I’d instructed, he’d brought the sword with him. It was lying in all its might on the glass table in the center of the room, and I noticed the bronze bracelet we’d gotten in the crates next to it. “I was beginning to worry. Are you here to tell me Mullins let you go?” he teased, not looking up.

“Don’t act like you’d love that. Your life would be terribly dull without me in it.”

“Yeah, I’d have no one to come and talk my head off every single d—” He shut up at once as soon as he looked up, and I understood that Mr. Westergaard had followed me inside. Henry looked surprised to see I wasn’t alone, swiftly getting up from his desk chair.

“Sorry for the lack of warning.” I turned to the Norse demigod I’d been assigned to distract, and found him utterly immobile, his eyes on the relic. He was as though bewildered by the sight. “Mr. Westergaard wanted to see the sword,” I told Henry.

“Uh… Right, hm, this is highly irregular, Mila.”

I went closer to him so he could hear my low voice—even though it probably didn’t matter, as our irregular guest wasn’t paying attention to us at all. “He’s a major benefactor. Mullins basically told me to treat him like royalty.”

Still transfixed, Mr. Westergaard slowly stepped closer to the table. When he reached out, I stopped him with, “Wait! You need to wear gloves.”

Henry was quicker than me to fetch him a pair from his box. “I’m Henry Morton,” my colleague introduced himself as he handed him the latex protections.

“I’m Ulrik.”

The gloves were a tight fit on him, even though it was the largest possible size—which had always been a problem for my average-sized hands. Once his touch was sheathed, he reached for the sword again. With remarkable ease, he lifted it by the grip and brought it closer to his eyes. I couldn’t even hold it single-handedly and Henry struggled, but this man was manoeuvering it as one would a kitchen knife.

Because of the perfect tailoring of his suit, I’d noticed that he was particularly fit, with narrow hips, a broad chest, square shoulders, and solid arms. But seeing him handle the thirty-pound artifact with such ease meant I’d underestimated just how muscular he really was.

Henry and I observed silently as Mr. Westergaard inspected the sword. His eyes were that of an expert, and once more, I was surprised by how involved he was in this. Collecting ancient items wasn’t just a rich man’s hobby to him. He held a genuine passion and interest for those objects and their history.

“What were you doing?” I asked Henry, coming closer to him and gesturing at the microscope.

“I’ve collected a sample of dirt from both items to compare them. It looks like the same soil, but I’ll need to run a few tests to confirm it.” He finally looked away from his samples, and leaned back on the high stainless-steel table to look at me, his arms crossed over his chest. “So, what’s got into you, you looney?”

Remembering the tablet I’d just fetched, I unlocked it and looked for the folder I needed. “You know how Ian has given me a room to curate? My very first serious exhibit?” I asked. Henry nodded, waiting for the rest.

“And you know how he told me I could choose the topic I wanted to work on, and if he approved, I’d get to center the room around it.”

“Yes, I know. You picked legendary heroes in Norse myths, which he was fine with.”

I was still searching for the damned folder. “Exactly. But I’m focusing especially on Haakon Odinson, a barely known Berserker who led armies and was rumored to be the son of Odin—hence the last name. Very little is known about him, even though he was a huge figure in Norse folklore during the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries.”

“He lived for three hundred years?” Henry asked skeptically.

“No, of course not. But people spoke about him for that long. I’ve found instances of his name on runes, and even Christian texts from his stays in Northumbria, East Anglia, and Mercia. His name is mentioned not only in text, but I also have—Ah! I found it!”

Having located the folder, I opened the first image in it. It was a detailed scan from an extremely old codex I’d found in the museum’s archives. Because of how fragile it was, I had scanned the pages that interested me. That way, I wouldn’t need to consult it over and over again and risk damaging it. But the codex would be exposed in the exhibition I was working on.

“What’s this?” Henry asked, looking over my shoulder as I flipped through the pictures.

“In 903, a group of Vikings raided a monastery in Northumbria. They killed a lot of the people living there, as well as some of the villagers from a nearby town. They spared a monk named Orvyn, and for some reason, they kept him around. Before the monastery was raided, Orvyn was working on the history of the village, writing it all down in a blank book. When the Vikings arrived, though, he repurposed the remaining pages to write about the invaders instead. And he had time to do it because the Vikings stayed for like, ten days, eating and drinking from the monastery’s cellar. The monk wrote down their habits, their physical characteristics, observations about their language…”

I reached an image where I had highlighted a specific part—a name, to be exact. “And look, because of Orvyn’s work, we know that Haakon Odinson was not only part of the raid, he was the one leading it.” I showed Henry the legendary hero’s name, right there, inked on the old sheet of parchment.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I instantly knew we weren’t alone anymore. When I turned, I confirmed that Mr. Westergaard had set the sword back down and was looking over my shoulder, listening to my rambling with interest.

Unaffected, Henry asked, “Right, that’s all very interesting, but what’s it got to do with the sword?”

“Well, you see, Orvyn was a skilled artist—he had to be to create the drop caps and illuminated manuscripts he worked on. So, luckily for me, he also doodled and drew some of the details of what he witnessed.”

Finally, I reached the slide I’d been looking for. I angled the tablet so Henry could see what I was talking about. The entire page that I’d scanned was filled with partial and full drawings of a very specific subject. Haakon Odinson’s swords. Orvyn had drawn the blades with minute details. Their shapes, the runes engraved on the fuller, the sculpted pommel…

Both swords in the drawings were identical in every way, except for the runes. Alas, Orvyn’s artistic eye hadn’t caught the exact shapes of the Norse letters, so the result was a gibberish mess, impossible to translate. But that didn’t matter at the moment. All that mattered was that my memory hadn’t deceived me.

I knew the shape of the sword in the crate because it was the exact same as the ones in Orwyn’s drawings.

Henry’s eyes traveled between the tablet and the blade on the table, over and over again. Eventually, he stopped, put his hand over his mouth, and stared wide-eyed at the sword.

“So that means…” he trailed off in shock. Finally, he seemed to understand why I had been so ridiculously excited. “Dear God…”

There was a huge grin on my face as I looked at what might be a priceless piece of Viking history. My heart hammered in my chest, and tears of joy pricked my eyes.

“Yes, Henry. I think we just found one of Haakon’s swords.”

With my forearms on the glass table, I looked down at the rusty blade, still amazed by our discovery. Henry was in the same position, opposite to me, just as flabbergasted. Both enthralled and elated, I stared down at it, admiring it in a new light. This had to be fate. How else could I have ended with Haakon’s sword? Beyond the unlikeliness of such a finding, the most unbelievable part was that it had fallen into my lap.

“Isn’t it a little early to emit such a hypothesis?”

My attention darted to Mr. Westergaard, who was looking down on us with what resembled annoyance on his dashing face. I answered his unnecessary question with a scowl. “Please, don’t presume that you know my job better than I do.”

Something darkened in his eyes, and I could swear that he was indeed bothered. Was it by me, or by the Haakon theory I’d just spoken of? It wasn’t too far-fetched—not when I had so much information and proof that pointed in that direction. So, what was it to him if I was right or wrong?

Unless, maybe, realizing who the sword belonged to worked against him. The odds of this happening were slim. So, so slim, for so many reasons. First, finding an artifact this old was rare, but finding it in such good condition was insane. Also, the fact that we might know who it had belonged to, with clear proof thanks to Orvyn’s sketches, was phenomenal. It gave the sword a much greater value, on a historical level and a monetary one as well. And that worked in my favor, because it would render the artifact less accessible to him.

Except, of course, if the man before me held a fortune and a resilience that went beyond what I’d anticipated. But I could be stubborn too, and there was no way I’d let him have this sword.

Especially not if it was Haakon’s.

【04】Every Step of the Way

Mr. Westergaard’s icy blue stare was penetrative, and the more I held it with my own, the more I felt like he could read into my soul. Could he guess at the fire burning within me? My determination to win this battle?

Haakon Odinson was my life’s obsession, and I wasn’t letting some overindulged and overgrown trust fund baby take his sword away from me.

I could still remember with vivid intensity the first time I’d heard about the semi-legendary Berserker. With a historian father, one who was a renowned archeologist as well, I’d grown up in a household where history held greater value than the present. Conversations often revolved around ancient cities, historical leaders, and the thrilling stories of humankind’s past. But contrary to him, the history nerd in me was all about Vikings. Ever since I’d watched a documentary on the Norse warriors, I’d developed a nearly unhealthy obsession with them.

Although my father might have preferred me to be as engrossed in Egyptology as he was, he had encouraged my curiosity—nurtured it, even—by buying me books and renting documentaries on Scandinavian history. It was in one of those old and dusty books that I’d discovered Haakon, the rumored son of Odin. A brief chapter about him had been enough to fuel a lasting interest in the nordic hero—one that was still going strong thirteen years later.

Then, during the first year of my bachelor’s degree back in Bergen, Norway, I’d met Dr. Gustaf Henriksen, one of my professors. Just like me, he’d been particularly interested in the poorly known Haakon, and the mystery that surrounded him. Dr. Henriksen had become a bottomless source of passionate conversations and shared knowledge.

He would flip when I’d tell him about our finding. But maybe he’d already figured it out, recognizing the shape from the low resolution photo I’d forwarded to him a few days ago. In the email that had brought Mr. Westergaard to this very table.

“So, let me get this straight,” Henry started, forcing me to look away from Mr. Westergaard’s intense eyes. Was it me, or was my heart beating a little too fast?

My colleague continued, oblivious to my turmoil. “We may have just found a sword that belonged to a legendary Viking hero that we can date, place, and it’s in great condition?”

“Well, we still need to run some tests, but I really think we did.”

“You’re seriously telling me that there was a man who could not only wield this one-handed but also had a similar sword on the other side?”

“I guess the rumors about him being the son of Odin had to come from somewhere. Maybe he was super strong and super jacked? Like a Viking Dwayne Johnson.”

Mr. Westergaard chortled, drawing our attention to him. “With enough training, a man could wield this,” he insisted. Well, a man of his stature maybe. But it was still a bit of a reach.

“I honestly don’t think Dwayne Johnson could handle two like these in battle,” Henry mumbled.

“He’s the Rock, Henry. Of course he could.” My colleague was about to argue, but I didn’t let him, getting us back on track. “According to Orvyn’s drawings, there should be gemstones embedded in the sword’s hilt, which he described as ‘blue like the dawn sky.’”

“So, iolite?”

“Most likely, yes. Those may have been looted, but maybe we can find the spots where they used to be. From the sketches, it should be here, here, and there,” I told him as I showed the spots. “Orvyn also mentions the runes engraved on the blade, so maybe you can figure something out about this, too?”

“I’ll see what I can do, but don’t get your hopes up, Mila.”

“I won’t,” I lied. My hopes were already way up.

While Henry went to fetch his tools, I returned my attention to Mr. Westergaard, who was being remarkably silent. “This is incredible,” he noted, gazing at the sword on the table.

“It is,” I agreed. “Which is why I can’t let you have it.”

With a gentle hand, he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward a corner of the room. “Miss Connelly, I appreciate your passion for your job, and I understand that this is important to you. But I will get this sword.”

“Good luck with that, because I will fight you every step of the way.”

Something dark lightened in his eyes, like the promise of a challenge. Admittedly, the man would be a fierce opponent, but I wasn’t one to roll over and let someone take such a precious finding away from me.

Henry gasped from the other side of the room, and we turned to him right away. “Uh… I think you two should come see this,” he called to us.

With haste, we obeyed and joined him. I looked at the spot Henry was pointing at, and shock took over me. There was an opening in the dirty layer that covered the entire sword, and it exposed a shiny surface hiding underneath. My confusion deepened as Henry slid a pointy tool under the rusty dirt and lifted it until another piece broke off.

“What the hell?” I whispered.

“I was scraping it to get a rust sample, and—I don’t know, a layer of it just came off. It’s like there’s a membrane of sediments, and then…metal in perfect condition.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Well, I don’t know yet, but I can tell you for sure this isn’t iron-based. Nor copper or bronze.”

“Could it be crucible steel?” I asked.

I knew Mr. Westergaard had caught my drift when he said, “You think it could be an Ulfberht sword.”

The thought had crossed my mind, yes. Ulfberht swords were a mystery that historians and archeometallurgists were still trying to figure out. Hundreds of swords with the word “+VLFBERHT+” had been found throughout Europe, most of them in Scandinavia. The composition of their steel was so advanced for that time—ninth to eleventh—that it had taken a thousand years for Europe to know such groundbreaking techniques again.

“Well, if it’s the same as the drawings, we know there should be an inscription on the blade’s fuller. And that could explain why it remained in such great condition, despite the centuries.”

“No, it can’t be an Ulfberht,” Henry countered. “This is too well preserved; almost like stainless steel. Look.”

He’d switched tools and, using pliers, he peeled off a large portion of the rust that coated the sword. Underneath it, more shiny metal, untouched by over a millennium in the ground.

This was insane. Somehow, the discovery was even greater than I’d even thought. Unless Annie McCain was pulling a joke on us, this insane artifact would change everything . I’d write books and papers about it. I’d get published in scientific papers and reviews. This would be, without a doubt, the greatest finding of my life.

“Alright, that settles it,” Mr. Westergaard declared. “I’m getting this sword.”

“You are not,” I protested. “This finding will revolutionize what we thought we knew about Vikings, about medieval metallurgy, about the ninth to eleventh centuries…”

There was no need to mention my own desire to keep the relic, because that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. The most important aspect of us having the sword was that we would uncover its secrets and bring to light many new theories and truths.

It didn’t seem to matter to him, though, as my explanation made his lips pinch into a thin, bothered line, his eyes back on the sword. His gestures as he removed the gloves were harsh—not from anger, but rather frustration. A man like him was probably not used to being told no and not getting what he wanted. But this time around, he’d have to get over it. I wasn’t letting him have the sword.

“Now, I’m sorry to be cutting this short,” I started with diplomacy, “but my lunch break started three minutes ago. I’ll walk you back to Mr. Mullins’ off—”

“I’m a little hungry myself, so that’s perfect,” he cut me off. “Shall we?”

My eyes were round with confusion and surprise. Was he serious? “You–you want to join me in the break room and eat with me?”

“No, I’m taking you out for lunch,” he explained as if it was obvious.

“Mr. Westergaard, it doesn’t matter how you go at it, I won’t caution you leaving with this sword.”

“I promise we won’t even speak of it, then. Please, don’t let me eat lunch alone in a city I barely know.”

Befuddled, I turned to Henry. My colleague was of no help, shrugging with a helpless pout. Would Mr. Mullins blame me if I refused? I wasn’t a PR person, I wasn’t from marketing… I was just a historian who buried her nose in old dusty books. I had no idea how to handle a big donor like the one I was facing right now.

“My treat, wherever you want,” Mr. Westergaard negotiated.

Well, that held some appeal… I wouldn’t call myself a foodie, but I enjoyed eating well. Which was probably why we’d go to the place I always went to if I accepted, but I’d order the expensive dish I’d never allowed myself to get. Also, the service was quick and the place crowded, which meant my time with Mr. Westergaard would be minimal and impersonal.

“Will you actually be out of my hair afterward?” I boldly asked, reminding him that he’d promised he’d leave me alone after seeing the sword.

“For today.” The semi-smile that bent his lips made something flutter in me, like all the other ones he’d graced me with so far.

Unsure how to feel about the implication of his answer, I squinted my eyes at him. He’d warned me he was stubborn, but I was only realizing now that he might be even more determined to win this than I’d thought.

“Scout’s honor,” he added, pressing a hand over his heart.

I capitulated, holding back a sigh and an eye roll. “Alright, let’s go.”

For the first time since I’d met him, he gave me a full smile, even though it was brief. Clearly, he was very proud of himself for making me yield on this. But I didn’t even dwell on it, too troubled by the effect his dashing grin had on me. While he had good teeth, brightly white and well-proportioned, I noticed they weren’t perfectly aligned. It was barely anything, but it surprised me. The rest of him was so perfect, one might have expected his teeth to follow the same rigorous standards.

Somehow, this small, unexpected detail worked on me. Knowing I was among the people who’d been graced with a smile and noticed made me feel special.

“Henry, it was a pleasure meeting you,” he told my colleague, taking me out of my thoughts. Damn it, I had to stop daydreaming.

Then he turned to me, waiting for what would come next. I told Henry I’d be back soon and exited the lab. Mr. Westergaard followed suit, unrelenting.

“Were you ever a boy scout?” I asked him as we walked into the hallway.

“I never got the pleasure, no.”

The way my eyes rolled was countered by the smile that forced itself on my lips. This man was conflicting, and I didn’t know how to handle him or the things he triggered in me.

I only had lunch to go through, and then things would be back to normal, without the Scandinavian giant to keep distracting me, to keep throwing me off balance with every smile and glance.

Tomorrow would be another day, and if he came back for round two, I’d handle him then. For now, I only wanted to get him away from the sword.

And away from me.

【05】The Mind of a Mule

Ulrik

“So, where to, Miss Connelly?”

After a stop at the office she shared with two other people, we were now out of the museum. The sun I’d enjoyed upon arriving was now hiding behind a thick layer of gray clouds, and the atmosphere was charged with pending rain. Hopefully, we’d be settled wherever she wanted to go before it came.

When I looked down at her, she had her eyes on the darkened sky, mechanically adjusting her suede jacket over her shoulders.

“Gigi’s Parlour,” she eventually replied. “It’s right around the corner that way.”

I moved to the side with a nod, inviting her to lead the way. Her walk was resolute and determined, and I wondered if she wanted to avoid the rain or if she was eager to be rid of me.

When Henrikson had forwarded me her email, along with a quick note from him saying the sword had resurfaced, I hadn’t taken the time to look at who she was. A grave mistake on my part.

Mila Connelly was nothing like what I’d imagined she would be. Firstly, she was much younger than any historian I knew who held such a prestigious position. Secondly, she was much, much prettier than I could ever have anticipated. Attractive women didn’t do much for me anymore, but this one had something special about her, something that had dried my throat and sent an unexpected rush of blood in my loins upon first seeing her.

And thirdly, the most important thing of all, she had the mind of a mule and was as unpredictable as wildfire. She blew hot one second and then cold the next, keeping me guessing which of my words might anger her and which ones might win her back. Of all the people I could have been against, I’d ended up with a brilliant, excitable young woman with a strong work ethic, and around whom I struggled to keep a straight head.

Even as we walked side by side in silence, I couldn’t help but steal glances at her profile. She was an attractive woman, by anyone’s standards, but particularly mine. Free of any artifice, aside from some mascara and a pink-colored lip gloss, she was remarkably beautiful. I couldn’t remember when the last time was that I’d been around such a woman, subdued by something as elementary and trivial as physical appearance. But no matter how she looked, it didn’t explain the potent reaction I had to her.

Maybe living like a hermit, isolated from the world in the Westergaard Estate, wasn’t suiting me as much as I thought it did. One pretty face and my mind was all over the place.

By the time we reached the place she’d mentioned, we hadn’t exchanged a word. My tongue was eager to speak, almost pulsing in my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say. The woman intimidated me, which never happened.

Even from the outside, I could tell that Gigi’s Parlour was a lively and crowded place. A few tables were set in front of it, protected from London’s notoriously bad weather by a retractable awning, and there were several people gathered outside, enjoying a cigarette. Miss Connelly didn’t hesitate and walked straight by them to go to the glass door.

A chime screwed to the door announced us, and I eyed the room with curious interest. It was undoubtedly British, with the overuse of decorative elements and how kitsch it all looked. But there was a certain warmth to it, which I guessed was the appeal of it. Everything was second-hand, there weren’t two matching chairs, and the tableware was just as eccentric.

Miss Connelly could have chosen any place in the entire city, and this was where she wanted to eat? Interesting choice.

A server who’d heard the door chime came our way. “Hi, Kojo,” she saluted him.

“Hey, Mila. Are you here to eat?”

“Yes, for two, please.”

The man looked up at me, offered a polite nod, and then scanned the room. “Is the table there alright?” he asked, pointing at a small round table pressed between a larger table and the floor-to-ceiling window of the restaurant’s front. She hesitated for a moment, surely aware of the forced proximity it would put us in, but eventually nodded. There wasn’t any other table available, anyway. With a practiced gesture, the waiter invited us to head to our table.

Miss Connelly slalomed through the tables with ease, and I did my best not to look down at her jean-clad rear while I followed. I’d already noticed it was round and perky, generous enough to fill both my hands and some. I didn’t need the distraction, and more importantly, I didn’t need her to catch me staring at her ass.

When she reached the small space reserved for us, she busied herself with removing her jacket. As she did so, the silky fabric of her shirt stretched over her chest, and this time, I couldn’t prevent my eyes from traveling down. Plastered as it was, the thin fabric revealed the lacey pattern of her bra, and right in the middle of each mound, a small erected tip that caught the light like the most tempting of jewels.

My mouth watered, another flow of blood traveling to my crotch. I’d been deprived of a woman’s touch for too long, and I was now suffering the consequences of my prolonged abstinence.

The rough, raspy sound of her chair when she pulled it shook me out of my hypnotized state. Fuck … I need to get my head out of the gutter and back in the game.

Pushing the thought of her breasts into the back of my mind, I undid the button of my jacket and pulled on my chair. As suspected, between my size and the minimal space, our knees touched under the table when I sat. She jerked slightly, quickly moving her legs out of the way.

Her eyes avoided mine, as she’d been doing since we’d left the museum, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Had I acted like an ass more than I’d realized? I’d seen her as a challenge, but in a good, thrilling way. So, because I’d judged her able to handle some teasing, I hadn’t held back. Maybe I’d been wrong.

The waiter came back with our menus and a bottle of water before telling us about the day’s special—roasted chicken leg with wild mushroom sauce and caramelized vegetables. He filled our glasses with water and then left with efficient and quiet steps.

Miss Connelly didn’t waste a second opening her booklet and setting it between us to examine it, forming an unwanted barrier that robbed me of the sight of her face.

After another moment of silence, I asked, “Are you cross with me?”

My bluntness unsettled her for a second as she looked over her menu. Either she was a poor actor, or she hadn’t been trying very hard to hide her annoyance with me, so she should have expected me to catch up on it. “Not cross, but I’ll admit to being on the fence,” she replied.

“There’s no need for that. I’m not a bad man.”

“But I don’t know that you’re a good one either.”

“Fair enough.”

“Aren’t you going to claim that you’re a good man?” she wondered after realizing I wouldn’t argue with her.

“Would you believe me if I did?”

She gave herself a second to think about her answer. “Probably not, no.”

“There you go.”

It was my turn to pick up the menu I’d been handed, wondering what one could expect to eat in this overcrowded, over-decorated, and overheated restaurant.

“You have to understand where I come from,” she continued, unprompted. “I receive what could become the biggest finding of my career, and less than ten minutes later, you come in with your high horse and your ego, dead set on undermining everything.”

“You think I have an ego?”

“A man looking like you do is bound to have an ego, Mr. Westergaard.”

“That’s quite the backhanded compliment, Miss Connelly. But I’m a positive man, so I’ll stick to the fact that you find me dashing enough to have an ego.” I grabbed my glass to drink some water from it.

“Since you think adding a new piece to your little collection is more important than people like me making groundbreaking discoveries, I will even suggest that you have a big one.” Her eyes widened with shock at the very same time I heard the double meaning of her words. “Ego,” she instantly clarified. “You have a big ego.”

Still holding my glass, I hid the smile that her flustered expression brought to my lips. Unable to hold back, I decided to push her just a little further. “I can assure you that I have a big ego, Miss Connelly. Some might even call it huge.”

The way she frowned disapprovingly was disarmingly endearing. I almost regretted that the golden skin that I found so appealing prevented me from seeing the blood rushing to her cheeks. But her face was expressive enough to tell me that if I reached out and touched the curve of the side of her face, I’d find it abnormally hot.

“Now, I promised we wouldn’t speak of the sword,” I declared before my hand could be tempted to act on my impulse. “And even though I wouldn’t consider myself a good man, I’m a man of my word.”

Since I had yet to read through the menu, I opened the booklet and quickly scanned some dishes listed on it. “Now that I know about your father, what does your mother do?” I asked her.

“I have no idea.” Intrigued by her answer, I let the menu down to stare into her dark eyes. Sensing that I would want more, she nearly rolled her eyes and gave in. “She used to work in Cairo for the Supreme Council of Antiquities.”

“Ah, so working with old and dusty antiques really is a family thing.”

“My passion for it only stems from my father.”

“Are you not on speaking terms with her anymore? Is that why you don’t know what she might be doing now?”

“Must we really do this?” She sounded frustrated, and I worried it might already be too late to back away from the path I’d put us in. “I’m sure we can find a topic more interesting than me.”

“I doubt it, Miss Connelly. But it’s as you want. I’m genuinely interested in the answer; I wasn’t just making conversation.”

The waiter was back before she could reply, and I silently cursed him for his bad timing. “Have you picked your poison?”

“I’ll have the lobster roll,” she replied first. “With extra lobster and extra garlic mayonnaise.”

“Sure thing. And you, sir?”

I’d been too distracted to find anything that I might want to order. Miss Connelly’s choice wasn’t a bad one, though, and she seemed to know the place. “I’ll have the same.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Wine?” I suggested.

“Yes, whatever white will go best with the lobster,” she agreed.

“Perfect.” He took our menus from us, ready to go. “Oh, Mila, before I type in your order, do you want one check for both with your discount, or do I make a separate one for you?” he asked, hesitantly glancing at me.

“One check, full price, no discount.” She looked at me with something impish in her eyes. “I’m not the one paying.”

The waiter left again, and once more, I failed to hide my amusement. The mind of a mule, I reminded myself.

【06】Gigi’s Parlour

Ulrik

“Do you come here so often that you can now get a discount?” I wondered.

“It’s one of the perks of living with the owner slash chef of the place.”

The idea that she shared her life with whoever ran this restaurant displeased me. That notion, as intrusive as it was unwelcome, scratched the back of my brain for a moment, clawing its way into my mind. I had just met the woman; she owed me nothing, and I shouldn’t have any expectations. In fact, I shouldn’t even be surprised that such a clever and stunning creature had found someone desirous to claim her.

“In what capacity?” The words left my mouth before I could reason with myself.

“Excuse me?”

“The owner, in what manner do you live together?”

She straightened in her chair, her knee accidentally bumping into mine. Her face was slowly turning into a scowl, as though she disliked the direction the conversation had taken. Fuck, I should have held my tongue.

“This isn’t any of your concern, sir.”

“I’m simply making conversation.”

“I don’t think you’d be asking Henry that sort of question if you’d taken him out instead of me.”

“Oh, but you’re wrong, miss. If it was him in front of me, I’d ask if there’s anything going on between you two. And if he answered no, I’d ask him if you have anything going on with anyone.”

Her lush lips parted as she processed my words, conveying her confusion. Was it really so surprising that I could be hitting on her? As a gorgeous woman, she ought to be used to piquing men’s interests.

“You know you can’t…seduce me or sweet talk me into giving you the sword, right?” she warily asked.

“Is it what I’m doing?”

“It looks an awful lot like it, yes.”

“Miss Connelly, the sword is the last thing on my mind at the moment. You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.”

As ludicrous as it may be, it was true. I should have been all over that sword. It should have been my only concern, my ultimate priority. But it seemed I’d found a subject that interested me more. At least in an immediate manner. I’d handle the sword later, but for now, she had my undivided attention.

She frowned again, avoiding my gaze as she debated whether or not I was being truthful. She’d been honest when she’d told me she was on the fence.

“There’s nothing going on between Henry and me,” she revealed, still somewhat conflicted. “He’s happily engaged and marrying his fiancée next spring. As for Gigi, she’s my platonic soulmate. We’ve been living together for two and a half years now, because the rents in London are a joke.”

While she’d only answered part of my question, I was thankful for the clarification. Maybe she was seeing someone at the moment, but at least she wasn’t so involved in a romantic relationship that she’d live with them.

The waiter came back with a bottle of French wine, and we remained silent while he opened it. When he asked who wanted to taste it, I gestured her way, so he poured a small amount of sauvignon blanc into her glass. She then brought the delicate rim of it to her lips and sampled a mouthful of the golden liquid. After some moment with it in her mouth, she swallowed and nodded her approval.

The waiter finished pouring wine into her glass and then filled mine before leaving the bottle between us.

“What about you?” she asked once he was gone, boldly meeting my eyes. Although she tried to act unfazed, I guessed the nervousness lying under her detached expression.

This proof that she was interested in the answer delighted me. “I haven’t had anyone meaningful in my life for a long time.”

She nodded, staring at her glass of wine. “I imagine women don’t enjoy it too much when you swoop in to crush their hopes and dreams.”

The cynicism of her tone caught me by surprise, and a frank laugh erupted from my throat before I could prevent it. “To be fair, this isn’t normally the way I go at it,” I explained once it had passed. “I’m normally a lot more charming and pleasant.”

“I have yet to witness it.”

The intensity with which I wanted this woman increased every time she opened her mouth. Even if it was for a jab at my expense. Or especially if it was.

“Tell me, Miss Connelly, how does an American end up working for the Viking department of a museum all the way to England?”

“With hard work and dedication, as we’ve already established.”

“But why this topic in particular?”

“History has always been at the center of my life—through my father. And when I discovered Vikings and Norse mythology, it just clicked. I found all that fascinating, and I wanted to know more. Back then, we spoke about them a lot less than we did Egyptians or Romans and their old gods.”

“So, in a way, you were drawn to Vikings?”

“I still am.”

A grin stretched my mouth in anticipation of my next playful teasing. “So, as a Viking descendant myself, I may have a chance.”

“I’m afraid you’re much too contemporary for me. I like old and dusty antiques, remember?”

The way she looked at me, with that crooked, half-hidden smile, and those eyes that were so effortlessly seductive, caused blood to travel south again. My cock was in a constant state of partial swelling, perpetually aware of how remarkably attractive she was—mind and body. At this rate, I’d be rock hard by the time this lunch ended.

I’d have to thank Henrikson for that email, and not only for the sword.

Someone was suddenly at our side with two plates, but it wasn’t our waiter this time. Instead, it was a petite woman with a plump figure, light brown skin, and washed-out blue hair with dark roots that were tied in a vague bun, some short strands loose on the back of her head. She was wearing a dark T-shirt from a random rock band, and over it, a flowery apron. On her arms, I could see several tattoos, small and inconsistent, and on her nose, two rings—one on the left side, and one in the middle.

In front of me, Miss Connelly’s face illuminated upon seeing the newcomer. “Hi, you,” she greeted her with a bright smile.

“Hi, sweets. I’m glad to see you’re finally trying my lobster rolls.” She settled the plates in front of us, and then turned to me with curious eyes. “And who might that be? Did you finally get yourself a sugar daddy?”

“Gigi!” Miss Connelly scolded her, acute embarrassment flooding her.

“Are you the reason why she didn’t come home last night?” the woman then asked me with amusement, setting a hand over the round curve of her hip.

“Alas, I’m afraid I wasn’t the cause of that.” For Miss Connelly’s sake, I tried to hide just how much I enjoyed this interaction. I was most likely failing.

“Grace Prisha Khan, this is a work lunch! And I told you I was working late yesterday.”

“Oh, shit… Sorry.” She didn’t seem sorry at all, though, barely containing her hilarity. “Ignore me and go back to your businessing.” Before she left, she came closer to me, which brought to my nose aromas she’d carried with her from the kitchen. “We do need a sugar daddy, though, to help with her two hundred cats and my three thousand plants. Just letting you know that the option is on the table.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” I chuckled. With a mischievous wink, she left us alone, back to her kitchen.

Miss Connelly was sitting low in her chair, as if she was trying to disappear into the cushioned seat. With her delicate hand, she was pinching the bridge of her nose, looking at her lap while she gathered herself. After a few seconds, she straightened up and grabbed her fork and knife, looking at the toasted brioche on her plate.

“I’m so sorry about that.”

“You did nothing wrong.”

“Well, I brought us here. Maybe I should have picked a more professional setting.”

“I don’t mind,” I reassured her. “Your roommate looks like a lot of fun.”

“Oh, she is. Loads of it. But she’s not the best at…formal interactions.”

“I gathered that much, yes.” I laughed again before eyeing my dish. It looked mighty good, but I wasn’t sure how to eat it. Miss Connelly used her knife to cut herself a piece of bread with some lobster in it and then dipped it in the small bowl of mayonnaise.

I did the same, and the flavors exploded on my tongue when I chewed. Alright, now I understood why there were so many people in here. It might not look like much, but this Gigi knew what she was doing.

“So, you have cats?”

“Yeah, hm…four.” She seemed embarrassed to admit it.

“That’s substantial.”

“They aren’t really ours, if that helps. We only keep them until we can find a family for them. They are stray or lost cats who found their way to our balcony on the fourth floor, and who now live like feline royalty in our apartment in the meantime.”

“Four cats in two and a half years?”

“Actually, it was more like…nine. I guess it’s unusual. It’s always been like this for me. There’s always a cat somewhere that’ll suddenly come into my life. I suppose I was born to be a cat mom.”

“I’m more of a dog person myself,” I admitted as I refilled our glasses.

“Ah, finally…a flaw.”

I cocked my head to the side, aware of what her spontaneous jab revealed. “I thought we’d established I have an ego problem?”

“No, I said you had an ego. I never said a thing about an ego problem. That’s your self-awareness speaking.”

Every part of me wanted to grab this woman and settle her on my lap. Either to give her a spanking for making me crave her so much, or to claim her lips so her quick tongue would stop driving me mad.

Just then, it dawned on me that I was in big, big trouble. Barely an hour into meeting her, I was already getting lost in fantasies of what her lips might feel like, of what her pretty legs would look like around my hips, of what her pleasure would taste like against my tongue. But that wasn’t a problem in itself, not really. I wasn’t opposed to taking this further if she was willing, and fuck her until all she remembered was my name, until we were both sweaty and exhausted, out of orgasms to give.

No, the problem was that I needed that sword—much more than I needed her. And given how attached to it she was, she would despise me when I won. Because I would win. There was no way I’d let the blade remain in the museum. Not when I’d been looking for it for so long.

But I had to tread carefully there. Given how fast my interest in her was growing, there might be a point where the sword would fall secondary to her appreciation of me.

And I couldn’t afford that. Not even for Mila Connelly.

【07】Declaration of War

By the end of our lunch together, I still wasn’t certain what Mr. Westergaard’s intentions were. He was charming and amiable—despite what I’d said—and it was becoming harder and harder not to show how much I enjoyed this. Thankfully, I was now and then reminded that he was a rival, and that his agenda worked directly against mine. For now, I couldn’t tell if he was flirting because he felt like it, or because he wanted the sword.

The one thing that was sure was that I wanted to sit on his dashing face and ride it until the smug expression on it was gone.

Also, I definitely needed an underwear change.

When the check came, I felt a little bad about the cost of our meals, but since he didn’t even flinch upon seeing it, I quickly dismissed it. He looked like he could afford this and a lot more. My suspicions were confirmed when he took out a hundred-pound bill along with a fifty and told Kojo to keep the change.

“For the cats and plants,” he told me with an amused glimmer in his eyes.

“You didn’t have to.”

“What kind of sugar daddy would I be if I didn’t?”

Although I laughed, embarrassment spread all over my mind, warming up my face. “Please, let’s never speak of this mortifying moment ever again,” I begged, slipping on my jacket. It was his turn to chuckle.

On our way to the door, we crossed Gigi, who was talking with customers at a table. “Bye, Gigi,” Mr. Westergaard saluted her.

“See you around—hopefully,” she replied. I rolled my eyes, unamused by her complete lack of tact.

It had rained a little during our lunch, so everything was now wet. It had momentarily stopped, though, so we might be spared on our way back to the museum. True to his word, he hadn’t spoken about the sword during the entirety of our meal. It was the same during our short walk. Instead, he had more questions about me. “I forgot to ask, but where are you from in the U.S.?”

“I was born in Cairo, but we moved to Foxborough very quickly.”

“Where’s that?”

“Right between Harvard and Brown.”

“Was it for your father’s work, or your mother’s?”

“My mother was already out of the picture by then. It was just my dad and me. When I was thirteen, he was offered a prestigious position at the Smithsonian, so we moved to Washington, D.C. He’s still there now. What about you?”

“I was born near Trondheim, where the Westergaard Estate is located.”

“The Westergaard Estate?”

“Yes, I’m that kind of rich person.” The self deprecation in his tone was strangely alluring. But then, what wasn’t with this man?

“What about your parents?”

“I’ve been on my own for a long time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s all I ever knew, so it’s fine.”

I could already see the side entrance of the museum, and I almost regretted that our time together would soon come to an end.

This man was conflicting in so many ways. I never knew what to do about his compliments or obvious flirting. Even though a part of me enjoyed those, another part kept reminding me I had to be cautious. I barely knew the man, but his open and easy-going behavior was making it hard to remember.

We reached the door and stood by it a little awkwardly. “Well, this is where I finally leave you be,” he said.

“For today.” It was too late when I realized what I’d just said, so I shut my mouth and scolded myself internally, hoping I wouldn’t spew out more stupid things.

“Yes, you’re not rid of me quite yet. It was lovely meeting you, Miss Connelly.”

“And it was…interesting meeting you, Mr. Westergaard.”

With another one of his crooked smirks, he took his leave with a nod. I stood there, feeling lost and puzzled, while he walked away. My eyes lingered on his powerful silhouette, admiring him one last time before God knew how long. When he turned at the corner, disappearing into an adjacent street, I regained control of my thoughts.

Our lunch had lasted a little longer than anticipated, and I was now fifteen minutes late.

As I made my way inside and to my office, I replayed in my mind everything that had happened since I’d first seen him in the Viking gallery. My time with him felt weirdly surreal, as if I’d been sleepwalking during the entirety of our interactions.

Of course, my colleagues had a few questions about him when I arrived. They’d seen a glimpse of him when I’d fetched my bag, and now they wanted to know who he was. I explained the best I could, trying to sound professional and unaffected.

As soon as I could, I escaped to join Henry back at his lab. There was an empty box of take out salad on his desk, and he’d completely peeled the sword during the lunch break. Now, he was bent over it to examine the details with a magnifying lens.

I joined him, slipping on a pair of latex gloves like he was. Holy smokes, this was absolutely amazing. The sword was like nothing I’d ever seen before, perfectly preserved in a way I couldn’t explain. If Henry had to authenticate this mysterious finding, he’d need to go at it flawlessly, so his results couldn’t be disputed.

It looked brand new. Not a scratch, not a spot of rust, not even a dent on the edges, where blows from other swords should have left traces. Part of me was certain this was linked to Haakon’s blades, but I began to wonder if it wasn’t a reconstruction, maybe as an homage or a trophy. My heart jumped in my chest when my inspection reached the fuller, where there was indeed something engraved. It clearly wasn’t a Ulfberht sword, though. Just like in Orvyn’s drawings, it was runes written in the center of the blade, not letters from the Latin alphabet. So, those didn’t match the usual pattern of an Ulfberht. There was gold embedded in the cross-guard with the most amazing delicacy. This looked like the work of a goldsmith rather than a blacksmith. And there were stones right there, blue like the dawn sky.

My body wriggled and danced, my high ponytail flailing behind me, elated by the confirmation. More and more, it was evident that this sword was linked to Haakon.

“Can you read it?” Henry asked.

I took a step back to examine it as a whole. While I recognized some words, they didn’t amount to a sentence, as if it was just random words inscribed on the fuller.

“This,” I told Henry as I pointed toward a few runes, “is ‘Óðinn,’ so, Odin. This word is ‘megin,’ which is like…physical force, or power. And up here there’s ‘báðir,’ which means both. But it doesn’t really make sense as a whole.”

“At least it’s proper Old Norse, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. Not just random runes to look pretty. It doesn’t read very fluent, though.”

After a moment of silence, Henry blew out his cheeks. “Everything you said matches. So I suppose you were right about its origin.”

“Ian will never believe we’re telling the truth.”

“Well, we don’t know what the truth is yet. I’ll need to run so many tests, it’ll take ages.”

“How soon can you start?”

“I’ve got nothing urgent at the moment, so I’ll start working on it today. But this will be tricky, Mila. This is like nothing I’ve seen before. I’m not even sure the best modern alloys would remain this preserved after eleven centuries in the ground.”

Perplexed, I looked at the artifact. Maybe this was the kind of blade a man like Haakon Odinson, a skilled warrior, a leader of men, used to carry.

I remained with Henry in the lab for the rest of the day. After fetching my computer, I settled on the high stainless-steel counter, perched on a relatively uncomfortable stool. I had some research to do on my part regarding the odd finding. All my knowledge of Haakon was blended in my mind, and while I didn’t recall mentions of him in Alba during the tenth century, there might be something somewhere. If I could prove that the suspected sword’s owner had been around the location it had been found in, we’d be one step closer to authenticating it.

As I looked through my old research and the documents I’d gathered over the years, Henry worked his magic on the blade. Every now and then, I left my stool to go examine the sword. It was magnificent. This must have been what swords used to look like as soon as the blacksmith was done creating them. Although it could use some polishing, it was untouched by time, like brand new. And on top of that, it was a flawless level of new, like the state-of-the-art of swords.

I took a bunch of pictures with my phone, including a few with Henry holding it with both hands. After all, the artifact was still a little over thirty pounds. Once I had all the pictures I needed, I returned to my improvised desk. Despite trying to hold off, I caved in and sent the pictures to Henriksen, as well as some of the scans from Orvyn’s book, and a quick but clear message. Even though he’d brought Mr. Westergaard into the equation, spoiling this discovery.

There had always been something mystical about the legendary Viking, and Henriksen knew it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t think me a fool for believing this might actually be one of Haakon’s swords.

I was diving back into my research when Henry let out a curse. He’d taken out his rotary tool, and for the past five minutes, I’d heard him use it on the artifact, probably to get some metal shavings for his tests.

“Fuck!” he shouted. Instantly, I joined him at the table again.

“What’s going on?!”

“That’s the third drill bit I’ve broken on it, and it doesn’t even have a scratch. Look.”

I glanced at the spot he was pointing at, right by the broken bit of the tool. It was indeed as intact as the rest of the sword.

“This is mental,” Henry said with a conflicted expression on his face. “Even tungsten would have a trace by now.”

“Maybe it has something to do with whatever preserved it so well? Can you imagine if we find a way to make metal even stronger than we do now, thanks to a sword that’s over a thousand years old?”

Henry scratched his brow, visibly muddled by the blade. “If this is real, I’ll probably end up writing a paper on this. A whole book, even.”

“Oh, I’ll be right there with you. This will revolutionize the way we see Vikings.”

“We’ll be rich and famous, mate.”

“Sippin’ margs on a tropical beach for the rest of our days,” I joked. We both knew that even if I suddenly won the lottery, I’d keep coming in to work here. He might go part-time, though.

With a sigh, Henry prepped the rotary tool with a new bit, and I went back to sit on my stool. My mind was in a permanent state of excitement, my skin was tingling from it, and I couldn’t stay in place, wriggling and twisting all the time. We were on the verge of something huge. I could feel it in my bones.

With everything in my heart, I hoped I was right about this. If I was, this would define my entire career. This would be my legacy. Which was why I couldn’t let anyone take it away from me.

Feeling rebellious, I opened the software we used at the museum, and logged in. The first step to securing the sword was to log it in. Mr. Westergaard might be ready to spend a fortune on this, but we had rules. And taking out a registered artifact was a process much more complex than an unregistered one.

Very proud of myself, I watched as the software processed everything and sent the information and pictures to the server. There. The sword was now secured.

Mila: one. Sexy Viking descendent: zero.

【08】Not Consciously

Unsurprisingly, the thought of Ulrik Westergaard remained with me for the rest of the day. I struggled to focus, constantly reminded of him, his masculine, clean, and expensive scent, and of those damned half-smiles.

Even hours later, as I clung to the bar in the subway on my way back home, it was him on my mind.

Ugh, the audacity of this man… How dare he occupy my thoughts like this.

I was reminded of the fact that I’d barely slept the night before as soon as I passed the door. The excitement of the day had faded, and in the safe confines of my home, I was able to relax enough to notice just how tired I was. Per usual, I was swarmed with cats right away, purring balls of fur begging for a treat, a caress, or even just some attention.

“Hey, babies! Did you miss me?” Their enthusiastic responses came through multiple meows. “Gigi, I’m home!”

“I’m here!”

Once my jacket was hanging on the rack and my shoes were off, I made my way out of the small entrance hallway and into our living room. She was there, doing her evening routine. She’d changed, and was wearing pink denim short overalls, with a blue bralette underneath. Her hair was loose, and as always when she’d worn it up all day, it had a lot of volume—to the point where it looked chaotic. But it didn’t matter, as only I would see her this way, looking like a lunatic as she watered her plants.

If my obsessions were Vikings and cats, hers were cooking and plants. Our place looked like a greenhouse on steroids, with tropical greenery on every available surface. I didn’t mind it at all, though. It looked beautiful, and it brightened our small apartment. In here, one might forget that we were in the heart of gloomy and cloudy London.

I went to the kitchen counter to retrieve the metal box where we kept the cat food, before moving to the four bowls settled under a window. The furry gang followed me closely, making me trip a few times.

“How was your day?” she asked, moving on to another shelf of potted greens.

“Eh, it was okay. I thought I’d come home later, but I couldn’t focus.”

“Does it have anything to do with that yummy man from lunch?”

I gritted my teeth, knowing this was to be expected. “It was honestly just a work lunch, Gigi.”

“Oh, please… You two were shagging each other with your eyes when I arrived. That’s why I thought it was a date you’d squeezed in your noon break.”

“We weren’t…eye-shagging.”

“Oh, you were practically drooling, sweets. And him too. But woof, who wouldn’t? He is dashing.”

Instead of saying anything, I filled the last bowl and made sure each cat was in position. “I almost forgot!” I said. “Someone messaged me on Facebook this morning. She’s interested in adopting Slim, but she’d like to see him first.”

“Brilliant. One less spawn of Satan to feed.”

“Come on, Slim Shady is the second nicest one,” I protested, squatting to pet the black and white cat in question.

“They are all nice to you, and they all ignore me.”

“Not Simone.”

“True. Which is why we’re keeping Madame de Beauvoir with us. Now, don’t think I didn’t notice you tried to switch topics, you clever girl. Tell me more about that blond piece of arse you got yourself.”

With a groan, I went to the couch and dropped on it, my head on the soft armrest and my sock-clad feet hanging from the other one. “So, who is he?” Gigi insisted.

“He’s a big benefactor. Mullins made it sound like the museum would actually be in financial distress if he stopped his donations.”

“Are you taking the piss?”

“I’m really not.”

“How did you end up taking care of him? Shouldn’t Mullins have been in charge?”

“Well, Mr. Westergaard was here to see me, because he wants something that I have.”

“Right, he wants access to your precious box.”

“You horny bitch,” I giggled.

“You prissy nun.”

“I’m not prissy.”

“Are you going to fuck him, then?”

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted, frowning as I thought about it.

“But you want to.”

“Of course I do. I’m not blind.”

She smiled proudly, offering me an approving nod. “That’s my girl.”

Her watering can was empty, so she set it down and came my way. I lifted my legs so she could sit on the couch, and then laid them over her lap.

“How long is he in town for?” she asked next.

“I have no idea. He seemed too interested to just leave it at that.”

“Interested in you?”

“No, not me. An old Viking sword.”

“Ugh, so he’s a proper nerd like you.”

“He is.” And even though I couldn’t admit it to her because she’d read into things and push me to act on it, his interest in Vikings might have been the hottest thing about him.

“So, what will you do?”

“I told you, I don’t know yet. He seemed attracted to me, and I’m not opposed to fucking each other’s brains out. But he wants my sword, so I’m not sure I should indulge.”

“Are you telling me you want casual sex with him?” Her dubious tone made it clear she didn’t trust that I could succeed.

Simone was done with her dinner, so she came with us. With delicate paws, she jumped on the couch, then climbed on me to settle on my chest, her face toward mine.

“I can do casual, you know,” I told Gigi, passing a hand over Simone’s long, smooth, black fur. Instantly, she began purring like a tractor.

“Well, you said that a month ago, right before you started shagging our freakishly flexible yoga instructor. And now, we’re still looking for another affordable yoga studio nearby, because you refuse to ever see him again.”

“You promised you understood why,” I reminded her, slightly offended that she’d bring that up. Sleeping with Everest—I still didn’t know if it was his legal name or not—had been an honest mistake on my part.

“And I do. But you know, plenty of people would pay to see what he showed you. I would. That’s one hell of a party trick.”

“It is, but I’m not sure you’d want to keep sleeping with him if you were in my position.”

She pondered for a moment. “Yeah, maybe not. It’s the fact that he swallowed his load like a champ that weirds me out the most.”

“And he was so proud to show me he could suck on his own dick,” I lamented.

“Once more…one hell of a party trick.”

“He wasn’t the sex guru he pretended to be, anyway. He would pause in the middle of it, be super slow all the time, stop seconds before I came… Then he claimed it was tantric sex, and it was my fault if I wasn’t into it.”

“Oh, I did that at a festival in France, once. For twenty-four hours straight. I came so much, my vagina was sore for a week.” She had a dreamy expression on her face, probably reliving that experience in her mind.

“At least you came.”

“And at least you can tell everyone you climbed on top of Everest,” she joked. I pushed on her thigh with my foot as payback for the bad humor, making sure I wasn’t disturbing Simone. “Don’t worry, Mimi. I’m sure Mr. tall-blond-and-mysterious can make you come.”

Oh, probably with just a finger. His pinky finger, even. My reaction to him had been so impossibly intense, I was almost certain of that. Which reminded me that I’d been horny for most of the day, so I needed to go take care of that.

“I need to shower and go to bed,” I declared.

“So early?! We have to watch at least one episode.”

I let out a groaning plaint. We were currently making our way through The L Word . It was our little ritual. We each chose a TV show we wanted the other to discover, and stuck to it all the way to the finale. I’d made her watch The Last Kingdom before that, which she’d mildly enjoyed. Because of our work schedules, we rarely had time to sit in front of the TV—individually, and even more together. So, going through our shows took forever.

“Gigi, I’m exhausted.”

“Come on, just one. I’ll go take care of dinner, you go shower, and then we watch an episode. It’s not even seven; you can’t go to bed now or you’ll wake up at four in the morning.”

She had a point. “Alright, you win,” I gave in, handing her the cat so I could get up. “I might take a while in the shower, though. A girl needs to wank.”

“I can support that. But what you need is flesh and bones, not silicon and batteries.”

“I’ll do with what I have on hand.”

“Don’t you have your sexy Viking’s number?”

“He’s not my anything, and no. It was a work thing, Gigi.”

“Yeah, yeah… A work thing you might shag.”

Annoyed that she wouldn’t let it go, I flipped her off on my way to my bedroom. She laughed it off, unimpressed, and then I heard her say to Simone, “We know what’s going to happen, don’t we? Yes, we do, Madame!”

“You two know nothing!” I shouted from my room, right before shutting the door.

They couldn’t know, because I didn’t even know.

Not consciously, at least…

---

When I arrived at the museum the next day, I’d barely slept. My body was only running on adrenaline and coffee at that point. That meant I was rather jittery—which wasn’t that different from my normal state.

I’d pulled many all-nighters in my life, especially when I’d worked on a double degree to get bachelors in Scandinavian and British medieval histories. So, I was used to it, and aside from the bags under my eyes, my mind was all hands on deck.

Given the early hour, I was among the first ones to enter the personnel side of the museum. With my computer bag hoisted on my shoulder and a steaming cup of black coffee in hand, I made my way to the Viking office. There was no one there yet, so I settled my things down and sat on my beige chair, ready to continue the extensive research I’d begun.

While the computer booted, my eyes wandered to the mess surrounding me. Damn, I’d promised Ian I’d handle it. With a groan, I pushed myself forward and gathered the scattered papers. I was brilliant at cataloging items and keeping my work neatly organized, but when it came to personal space, I had a lot of room for improvement. Since I didn’t want to give myself more work in the future, I decided against shoving everything in a drawer and actually committed to putting things where they belonged.

It took me half an hour, but by the end of it, my desk was as neat as Ingrid’s. Even Ian’s was messier, so for once, I’d get to bug him about it—teasingly, of course. Satisfied with my work, I sat back with a sigh and grabbed my insulated cup to sip on my coffee. Now I could start.

I was reading a paper on Vikings in Alba during the early tenth century when Ian arrived. I smiled at him when he entered, amused by his predictability. He always wore a variation of the same outfit, with a blue plaid shirt and a pair of jeans. Surprise flashed on his face when he saw me here already—he was twenty minutes early, after all. Then, his eyes wandered to my immaculate desk.

“Are ye alright?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

“Ye cleaned yer desk.”

“Because you asked me to,” I reminded him.

“Mila, ye never do as I ask.” Suspicious, he squinted his eyes at me. “Is it because something happened with Mullins yesterday?.”

“No, I just felt like cleaning up. You should do the same, by the way. Your desk is a bit of a mess,” I added before quickly drinking from my cup to mask my amusement. The joke worked, and he laughed frankly at my audacity.

“Ye cheeky lass… Is that coffee? I need to get me one.”

“I can give you some of mine since your mug is here.”

“Did ye make it?” he asked. I nodded. “Then no. That’s liquid tachycardia.”

“It’s not that strong,” I objected with a frown.

“I know ye, Mila. I could stick a spoon in there and it’d stand straight.”

By the time we were done bantering about my enjoyment of very dark coffee, he was seated on his chair and his computer had started. We both worked in silence for a good ten minutes before Ingrid arrived. From then, it was business as usual, all three of us dutifully working, exchanging a few words and questions now and then.

Once I was done reading a rather dull academic paper on Vikings’ metallurgy, I rose from my chair and told them I was off to see Henry. Maybe he’d have some good news for me by now.

【09】Curious and Curiouser

Excited to see if Henry had made any new discoveries, I nearly jogged my way to the lab. It was all put to a swift halt when I suddenly crashed into someone.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” I instantly apologized, before looking to see whose gray suit it was. Dread filled me when I realized I’d bumped into none other than Mr. Mullins.

“Oh, fuck—I mean, damn—I mean, sorry! Did I hurt you, sir?”

Luckily for me, the man wasn’t as haughty as he looked, and he offered me a vague shake of his head, along with a slight smile. I’d always been scared of him for some reason—maybe because he was always so proper, and because of his age, his background, the tailored suits he always wore, and the simple fact that he was English. I’d always imagined him to be needlessly rigid, which was probably why I avoided encounters with him overall. We’d spoken three times since I’d started working here, though I guessed that number was about to become four.

“It will take more than that to hurt me, Miss Connelly.”

I held my tablet against my chest, as if it could shield me from anything bad that might ensue from my clumsiness. “Still, I’m sorry, sir. I was on my way to the lab, maybe a little too eagerly.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not one to scold people for liking their job too much. It works in my favor, actually.” He whispered the last bit as if it was a secret.

Had the man not been openly gay and married with children, I might have imagined he was flirting with me. But it wasn’t the case, so his approval of me made me release a reassured sigh.

“Mr. Westergaard had some great things to say about you from your encounter yesterday,” he continued. “I believe we’ll be able to fulfill his request?”

“Actually, sir… He’s demanding a priceless piece that can’t be given away. I’m still working on uncovering its secrets, and it seems to have a plethora of those to give. Mr. Westergaard might not get what he wants, for once.”

The director pinched his lips together, displeased. “We’ll see how that evolves. Maybe he’ll simply let it go. Otherwise, we’ll have to compromise, Miss Connelly.”

“I might not be willing to, Mr. Mullins.”

“I’m afraid it’s not entirely your call, Miss. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an important meeting to attend.”

He greeted me with a nod and went on his way. I stood there like an idiot for a few seconds, then pulled myself out of my slight shock and resumed my journey to Henry. This time, I kept my eyes upfront, holding my tablet by my side.

When I reached the lab, I knocked and waited for his approval before coming in. When I did, he was working at the glass table, crouched over the sword, checking the details of the hilt with a loupe.

“Anything new?” I asked, coming to his side.

“Not much. I couldn’t get any shaving from the blade, so I’ll have to do chemical spot tests for it. But I managed to take a sample from the gold bits instead. I can’t run a thermal ionization mass spectrometry here, so I’ll send it to another lab in the afternoon. Once that’s done, we’ll know where the metal came from.”

“Hopefully, Scandinavia.” I crossed my fingers on both hands.

“Also, I’m afraid the gemstones aren’t iolite but sapphires.”

“Sapphires? Those don’t come from Europe.”

“I’m aware.”

“Vikings were great sailors and traded with all kinds of people, though. It’s not impossible that they’d get their hands on those.”

“Right. And they are extremely clear and have a strong color, so, the highest value. This sword can’t be a hoax, Mila.”

That helped a bit with my flailing confidence. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s worth way too much to be a joke. It’s legit to some extent. And the art is definitely Viking and matches Haakon’s time period. Go check my computer. I’ve mapped the entire sword. You can zoom in on the details.”

I did as instructed and sat behind his desk to look at the 3D reconstruction. Regardless of its origin, it was a remarkably beautiful piece. Very few swords had this level of detail and craftsmanship, and glancing at one in perfect condition was overwhelming. If it was Haakon’s sword, then he was a lot more important to his people than I’d given him credit for. I’d never found any mention of him being considered a king or a jarl, but I was now wondering if he hadn’t been one of those. No common soldier or mercenary could have amassed enough wealth to have not one, but two swords like this.

All those revelations prompted me to text Ian so he’d come take a look at it in person.

Five minutes later, the broad Scot was joining us in the lab. Henry was busy with the sword, so the first thing Ian noticed was the bracelet from Annie McCaine’s crate, which was still on the central table.

With clear interest, he grabbed the jewel and brought it closer to his eyes. His glasses—roundish with thick black rims—hung on the retainer over his chest, so he used his free hand to place them on his nose, toward the tip of it.

“What’s that? Copper?” he asked as he delicately wiped off some dirt with his thumb.

“No, there isn’t any oxidation. Could be bronze.”

“Look at the craftsmanship. Those details are exquisite.” He pointed at an intricate curve engraved in the metal.

“It’s definitely Viking. Have you seen the ribbons?”

“It might be a bit early, but I’d say it’s from the Jelling style? Maybe Borre?”

I nodded.

“Was that in the McCaine crates?”

Another nod.

“What’s the story behind this again?”

“Some old farmer named Robert McCaine died about a year ago,” I reminded him, starting from the beginning. “And Annie McCaine, his granddaughter, inherited his farm. When she started going there a few months ago, she found a massive pile of what looked like old artifacts in his barn.”

“Ah, yes. He found these as he was plowing his fields, didn’t he?”

“Yep. Annie thinks he kept finding stuff, but that he told no one because he was worried archeologists and historians would bother him and temporarily put him out of a job. The bracelet puts us somewhere between 850 and the late tenth century, and there are mentions of a Viking settlement near where the farm is. I have to check, but I think it didn’t exist for long—maybe five, six years.”

“That would make it very brief, indeed. What happened?”

“Æthelstan ravaged southern Alba in 934. The attack was unprovoked, but it’s theorized that it was to remind Constantine, King of Alba, who was boss. If the settlement was massacred and burned to the ground in the process, it could explain why so many things were left behind.”

“It could, yes.” He gave me a crooked smile. “It looks like the student is slowly but surely getting better than the master.”

“You just have less brain cells because they started dying half a century ago,” I teased.

“Ye cheeky lass… Did you make me come for the bracelet?”

“Actually, no. There was something much, much bigger in those crates, but I need you to keep an open mind,” I urged him.

With an encouraging gesture of my hand, I guided him closer to Henry and the blade. “That’s a bonnie sword ye’ve got there, Henry,” he said. “Some reconstruction for the Medieval department?”

I shook my head.

He eyed it again from over his glasses. Of course, he didn’t get the point right away, looking at us uncertainly for a moment. “Am I supposed to guess what this is? Renaissance, maybe Eastern Europe with that shape?”

I shook my head again, failing at containing my excitement. “It’s as Viking as the bracelet you just looked at.”

My mentor stared at me with doubt, his eyes probing mine, gauging my seriousness. Understandably, he was struggling to believe me.

“Is she taking the piss?” he asked Henry, before turning to me without expecting an answer. “Mila, have ye hit yer head running around like a madwoman? Vikings didn’t wield two-handed weapons. Nobody did at that period.”

I’d expected him to not believe me, so I dragged him to the other side of the lab, where my tablet was waiting with all the proof I needed. Henry, who already knew about all this, returned to the mysterious artifact.

Ian didn’t interrupt as I explained to him everything I’d told Henry. I noticed the way shock appeared on his face when I showed him Orvyn’s drawings. As historians, it was our job to use the clues from earlier times and try to make sense of them. But since most of our work was theoretical, we also had to be open to being wrong, and be willing to change our way of thinking and not remain camped on our ideas. So, like a good historian, Ian listened to me as I showed him the evidence I’d gathered so far.

Once I was done, he remained silent for a long moment, using my tablet to enlarge and examine Orvyn’s work. He also turned to the sword, and Henry bent over it.

“So, what? You had Henry create a replica for your exhibit?” Ian confusedly asked.

“This isn’t a replica, Ian. It was in the crate, covered in a layer of dirt and rust. If my theory’s right, it comes from the ninth to tenth century.”

His eyes traveled from me to Henry for a few moments, trying to understand what’s going on. Eventually, a loud laugh ripped out of him.

“Alright, I get it now. Ye two are messing with me. Nice try, ye dobbers.”

“Ian, I swear to God this isn’t a joke,” I pleaded. “It came with the crates yesterday, and it seems to come from the same fields as the rest.”

“Nah, ye won’t fool me, wee lass. I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ll go check the stuff from the crates instead, to see what we actually got.”

Before I could say anything else, he left the room with a shake of his head, smiling as if we’d been joking the whole time. Stunned, I turned to Henry, who shrugged his shoulders.

“Honestly, I don’t blame him. I might have reacted the same if I hadn’t been with you the whole time. And I know you too well. You’re a terrible actress; you could never have pulled this off.”

“Well, thank you, I guess…” I muttered with a frown.

“But even though I know you’re not responsible for this, it might still be a hoax. Let’s tread carefully, yeah?”

“Yes, of course.”

As I worked on more research to authentify the sword and make it legitimate, I couldn’t help but try to come up with endless theories. There had to be an explanation as to what made this sword so special, so uniquely preserved. And while it did look like a bad prank, it was too valuable to be one. Something in my guts told me this sword was legit, that Haakon himself had held it in his hands.

Also, if someone as knowledgeable as Mr. Westergaard was interested in it, there had to be some legitimacy to it. Maybe he knew something we didn’t. After all, he hadn’t been nearly as surprised as us when Henry had uncovered the immaculate metal behind the layer of dirt. Hopefully, I’d meet him again in the near future, so I’d get to ask him more questions about the sword and why he so eagerly wanted it.

【10】Blowing Off Steam

The next day wasn’t much better productivity-wise. I wasn’t getting anywhere in my search for mentions of Haakon and his swords, so I’d dismissed it to focus on the exhibit I was curating instead. It was clear to me that a lot of what I’d planned had to change. The miraculous find we’d stumbled upon now had to be in the center of it. The display would revolve around the blade, so I had to rethink everything. And because the exhibit was to open in January, I didn’t have that much time to rework it all.

In the meantime, Henry kept doing tests and digging to find out more about the sword and its numerous secrets. Every time I met with him, he seemed a little more perplexed, confounded by the artifact. He still couldn’t explain its impeccable state or the presence of the sapphires. But he was brilliant at his job, so I had no doubt he would eventually crack it.

Of course, since Mr. Westergaard had only promised to leave me alone for the remainder of the previous day, I expected to see him again at some point. It may have sounded like a threat back then, but as the day progressed, I found myself hoping it had been a promise.

Whenever someone knocked on our door, or when I heard a noise outside, I tensed in anticipation, preparing for his dashing face to enter the office. Ian even noticed how jittery I was, joking that I must have been chewing on coffee grounds to be this excitable.

In the end, the day went by without a trace of Mr. Westergaard, and it left me bitter and disillusioned. It seemed the chemistry I’d thought we had might have been a figment of my imagination. If he wasn’t back to tease me or bicker with me about the sword, maybe he wasn’t that eager to see me again. At least, not as eager as I was.

Since Gigi worked the evening shift, I got home to an empty apartment, except for the cats. It was too early to feed them, so I ignored their pleas—which went against my cat mom instincts. When I entered my room, the sneakers I used for running taunted me. Maybe an hour of this would be more efficient at blowing off some steam than the purple vibrator in my nightstand. I’d run until my thighs ached and my lungs burned, and by then, all thoughts of Ulrik Westergaard would be dismissed. I’d be too busy recuperating for that.

It was warm enough to avoid long leggings but cold enough for a long-sleeved shirt. So, I changed into skin-tight black shorts, slipped on a good sports bra so my boobs wouldn’t bounce painfully with each step, and then covered myself with a tight turtleneck. Once my hair was tied, my shoes were on, and my phone was in the holder wrapped around my arm, I paired my earbuds, grabbed my keys, and exited the apartment.

Ten minutes into it, with my workout playlist blasting in my ears, I knew I’d been right. This was much, much better than masturbation. I’d struggled to fall asleep the evening before, but this time, I’d tire myself enough to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I ran like a madwoman, pushing myself harder than I normally did. I followed my usual path, careful not to be hit by a bus or a bike. The rush hour had been slowly ending when I’d exited my building, and it was completely over an hour later. Which was around when I was making my way back home. I realized I might have done a little too much as I waited for a light to turn green, jumping up and down to keep the cardio going. I’d have cotton candy legs for the rest of the evening. But it didn’t matter much, since it wouldn’t prevent how I intended to spend it—some actual Netflix™ and chill.

Just as the light turned green, allowing me to continue my return home, the music in my ears stopped, replaced by a series of beeps. Someone was calling me.

I answered with a touch on the earbud, thinking it might be Gigi. “Hello?” I asked, breathless.

There was a moment of silence on the other side, and I wondered if it would be a scam call. “Am I interrupting something?” The low, sensuous, and familiar voice hit me like a freight train. I stopped halfway through the crosswalk as suddenly as if I’d hit a wall.

Now he was showing signs of life? After leaving me hanging the entire day?

A car honked, reminding me that I wasn’t supposed to stay here. “You’re outside,” he noted, having probably heard it. Was it relief in his voice?

“How did you get my number?” I asked as I finished crossing the street.

“Your boss gave it to me.”

“Ian?”

“Mullins. I told him I had more questions for you, so he kindly shared your number with me.”

“He shouldn’t have.”

“Probably not, no. But aren’t you secretly glad he did?” The cockiness of this man was astonishing. But the fact that it worked on me was even more astounding.

“What if I were?”

“Then you’d stop whatever you’re doing and have dinner with me instead.” That one was particularly imperious, even for him.

“So, you’re not even asking? You’re ordering me to?”

There was a moment of break, and when he spoke again, I could hear the smile in his voice. “Would you please clear your evening’s schedule, Miss Connelly, and have dinner with me?”

“That’s so much better already.”

“I’m a quick learner. So?”

As I considered the question, I slowed my pace so I could breathe better. “I still haven’t made up my mind about you, you know?”

“I can’t see why. I’ve been nothing but charming since we’ve met.” The traces of humor I could perceive behind his flirtatious tone had me gently biting my lips. He must have had a Masters in seduction at this point.

“That’s because you want something from me.” There was a short pause during which I could have sworn he chuckled softly. But the ambient sound prevented me from being certain.

“Several things, actually,” he corrected me with a smile in his voice. “Dinner would put us on track for a few of them. So, will you?”

“Will I what?”

This time, it was a groan he let out. “You’ll have to stop teasing me, Miss Connelly, or you’ll end up across my lap in a not-so-fun way.”

My lips twisted in a shocked smile with a breathy gasp breaching them, my feet stopping at once. Had he just threatened to spank me? He had, hadn’t he? And why did it sound so hot?

“I’d have to agree to meet you again for you to get the opportunity,” I argued, still grinning incredulously as I resumed my run back home.

“One more reason for you to join me for dinner, then. I’m counting, by the way, and you’ve made me ask four times now. It’s three too many for someone like me.”

He really ought to stop making it so tempting to tease him. “Well, I’m flattered by the offer, but I already have plans.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I’m out with friends. Maybe another time, Mr. Westergaard.”

I was almost there, and after the exercise I’d just put myself through, there was no way I’d go out. Not with him, not with anyone. I’d sit on the couch with leftover pasta and watch that documentary on orcas, as I’d planned. I slowed down as I reached the corner of my street, allowing myself to breathe. Thirty yards and I’d be inside.

“It’s odd. I was under the impression that you’d be spending your evening at home,” came his suspicious voice into my ears.

“Where did you—”

The tall and broad figure standing in front of my building’s door made the words die in my throat.

What the hell…

He was right there, with his phone to his ear. I remained frozen in place, too shocked to back away slowly and retreat. But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because right after I’d noticed him, he spun around and saw me.

With a devilish smirk, he lowered his phone, cutting our call. “Over & Over” by Reignwolf resumed instantly after, blasting in my ears. It only added to my cluttered thoughts, deepening my confusion.

But I did nothing about it, standing there like an imbecile.

Now what?

Stunned, I remained immobile for a few more seconds, unsure how to proceed. His lips moved, forming words that I couldn’t hear, so I removed my earbuds, still staring at him with confusion.

“Out with friends, was it?” He didn’t seem vexed, merely entertained. I’d been caught in a blatant lie, and now I had to deal with it.

“Did Mullins give you my social security number as well?” I didn’t even try to hide how icky this made me feel.

He chortled. “No, can you imagine? And it wasn’t him who told me where you live. I stopped by the restaurant and Gigi gave me your address. She also offered her blessings, I think, when she told me you would be all alone.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound creepy at all…”

Although I was excited to see him, surprisingly energized despite my intense run, I wasn’t very fond of the way he’d done it. Having my number was fine, but this was a bit much.

I retrieved my keys from the armband and walked toward the intercom. I swiped the key fob over it, and the door unlocked with a buzz. Since he was closer to it, Mr. Westergaard pushed it open, and then invited me to step in with a hand gesture. As I passed by him and his perfect suit, his fresh scent, and his impeccable hair, I realized that I probably looked like shit, sweaty, red, and rumpled. Well, it was his fault for coming to my place unannounced.

I stepped into the building’s hall and went to the stairs without looking back. The man was too resolute to need an invitation to follow me, anyway. He proved me wrong when he asked from the doorway, “Should I wait here while you get ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“Dinner.”

【11】Hellraisers

I halted with a foot on the first step and turned around to look at him. Ugh, he was so stupidly handsome. We stared at each other for a few seconds, and I wasn’t sure what to tell him. I genuinely didn’t want to go out, but the hope I could see in his eyes made me reconsider. Even though he shouldn’t have been here, he was, and it proved that he was eager to see me again—just like I’d hoped. He’d come all this way despite knowing I might refuse his offer and send him away.

But going out with him not only meant that I might end up doing something stupid—like jump him and ride his face—it also meant I had to get ready, instead of slipping on my comfy pajamas. But then it implied I’d take a while, at the very, very least fifteen minutes.

“Do you want to come and wait upstairs?” I caved in. The beaming smile he gave me was worth it.

“And meet the cats? Absolutely, I do.”

He joined me with long, impatient steps, and we began our ascension to the fourth floor. My legs were unsteady as I climbed the numerous steps, but I gave everything I had not to let it show. I could hear him right behind me, his fine leather shoes echoing on the wooden stairs, along with my rubber soles.

The entire way up, I was aware of the fact that my behind was probably right in front of his face, my cheeks on full display because of how tight my shorts were. All I hoped was that the poor light of the staircase didn’t allow him to see the weird patch of sweat that made it look like I’d peed myself.

My knees were trembling when I reached my door at the end of the corridor, but that was understandable. What was more disturbing, though, was the way my hands shook as I turned the key in the lock. His presence, so close to me, was making me nervous, unhinged. This raw attraction between us had to lead somewhere, and temptation would be everywhere in my apartment. My bed, the couch, the kitchen counters… And honestly, every single wall he could plaster me on, or every adequate surface that could hold my weight.

Maybe it would have been wiser to let him wait downstairs…

As I unlocked the door, I tried to remember what state I’d left the apartment in this morning. Our common area was always neat because Gigi insisted on it. My bedroom, though, was in a constant state of partial mess. He won’t be in your bedroom, I reminded myself.

I pushed the door open, and barely two steps in, the furry gang was on me, begging for their dinner. I kicked out my sneakers, telling them to calm down. Mr. Westergaard still hadn’t entered when I reached the end of the entry hallway. “You can come in. They don’t bite.”

Worried I might lose them, I put my earbuds back into their case. I was unfastening my armband when I saw him enter the living room. He’d taken off his shoes, which I wasn’t expecting but appreciated. His socks, red with yellow stripes, made me grin widely. With a hand on the high counter, I stretched my thigh, holding my foot against my butt cheek. The cats were all over me, acting as though I hadn’t fed them for a week, despite their generous breakfast this morning.

Mr. Westergaard was still by the doorway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his eyes unabashedly fixed on me.

“See that blue tin box over there? Would you mind getting it?” I asked him. He easily located it, and without a word, he went to take it. As soon as he picked it up, the meowing quartet went to him instead. I switched feet, holding the counter with my other hand. “The bowls are under this window and there’s a measuring cup inside. Half of it for each of them,” I told him.

He raised a brow at me, apparently wondering if I was really going to make him do this. The cats were relentless, though, so he didn’t protest and got to work. “What are their names?”

With my ass toward the counter, I bent down to touch my toes, stretching the back of my legs. “The black one’s legal name is Madame de Beauvoir, but we mostly call her Simone or Madame. She’s our actual cat; the others are just passing by. The orange one is Donald. Black and white is Slim Shady, and the calico one is Mad Max—because she gets the zoomies a lot.”

By the time I was done with the introductions, he’d filled all their bowls and was looking down at his handiwork.

“I’ll hop in the shower real quick. You can wait for me here,” I suggested. The temptation to offer him to join me, just to see his reaction, was hard to resist.

Jesus had to reach down and take the wheel at this point, because my brain was free rolling.

Mr. Westergaard nodded, still observing the hellraisers inhaling their food.

With my phone in hand, I made my way into my bedroom. Once I was in there, I instinctively locked the door behind me and pressed my back on it. What was I doing? I shouldn’t have accepted his invitation to dinner, and I shouldn’t have invited him inside. This was like playing with fire, like a time bomb that could go off at any time.

With a groan, I unlocked my phone and went to my messages with Gigi.

I will murder you in your sleep

, I sent her. She would most likely see it after her shift, and I could almost visualize the way she’d laugh upon reading it. She was certainly very proud of herself for this one.

Throwing the device on the bed, I made my way to the bathroom we shared. The entire time I got ready, I kept reminding myself this wouldn’t lead to anything. Even as I shaved my legs, pubic hair, and armpits, I told myself it simply needed to be done and had nothing to do with potentially getting naked with Ulrik Westergaard. With a large towel around me and my hair wrapped in a smaller one, I lied to myself as I picked my best lingerie ensemble, a skimpy and expensive duo, all red and see-through. This wasn’t about the man outside getting it off of me later. It was so I’d feel confident and sexy.

It sounded phony even to me…

I was done slipping it on when my phone buzzed on my bed. Gigi had seen my text, and she’d replied with,

What you’ll do is thank me. Put a sock on the knob (of the door) to let me know if he isn’t done with you when I come home.

Sorry, I’m too busy changing the locks and finding a new roommate. Good luck sleeping outside tonight, bitch

, I sent back.

Just because I couldn’t let Gigi win that one, I took it down several notches and wore something simple. It was elegant, but not really sexy. Certainly not as femme fatale as my underwear. It still took me four changes of outfits to find the perfect balance, though. I forwent makeup, since he’d been waiting for me long enough and he’d just seen me at my worst. My current face was already an improvement as it was.

Because I still cared about how I looked, I checked myself in the mirror one last time. My dark red silk shirt was tucked into leather-like black pants, which molded to my legs like a second skin. Over that, I had a loose black blazer jacket, and on my feet, knee-high boots with a two-inch heel, black as well. Impulsively, I reached up to undo an extra button of my shirt, deepening the cleavage and revealing a little more of the swells of my breasts, pushed together by the fancy bra.

I’d dried my hair the best I could with the towel, but it was too thick and too long to blow-dry. It would take fifteen minutes I didn’t have. So it was still a little wet, falling on my shoulders in humid strands.

My phone buzzed in my blazer’s pocket, and Gigi’s response had me smiling and grunting at the same time.

And good luck getting railed into next week, twat.

Don’t you have a restaurant to run?

I replied.

She began typing instantly after.

Don’t you have a cock to hop on?

I will choke you with my tits.

Work better on your threats, sweets. It’s literally the best way to go for a bi whore like me.

Before I could reply, she sent another one.

Now quit procrastinating and go get ducked.

Quack-quack, bitch.

You know what I meant. Stop being a cunt and go gag on that Scandinavian dick.

I whimpered, knowing she was right. Not about getting “ducked” or gagging on his dick, but about me procrastinating. I couldn’t make him wait longer than that.

I took a deep, courageous breath in front of my door, and then unlocked it to open the panel. It somehow surprised me to see him, almost as if I’d expected him to evaporate into thin air. But no, he was on my couch, with Simone on his lap and Slim staring at him from the coffee table.

He looked out of his element in our cozy little interior, clashing with the girly colors and the unmistakably feminine atmosphere. The cat on his lap was almost comical, and the way he was hesitantly petting her only added to it.

He slowly eyed me from head to toe, and then back up. I didn’t need his validation, but I still reveled in the way his face lit up with something appreciative and sensuous.

“You survived,” I noted with a grin.

“Barely. Also, this one regurgitated its dinner,” he explained, pointing at Mad Max.

“Oh, no… She eats too fast and then this happens.” I headed to the kitchen to fetch a bunch of paper towels. “Where is it?”

“Well, the orange one ate it before I could clean it.”

“Oh, Donald…” I scrunched my nose with disgust. “I’m sorry you had to witness this.”

“It’s alright. It only comforted me in my preference for dogs.”

“Well, I’ve seen dogs eat what comes out of the other end of a cat, so I’m still not convinced your logic is that sound.”

He observed me for a moment, tilting his head to the side. “You don’t like being wrong, do you?”

“That’s because I’m always right, so I don’t like having to argue with people who are wrong.” I sweetened my declaration—which was mostly a joke—with a wriggle of my eyebrow. The way he smirked made something warm up in my stomach. He was so endearing with Simone on his lap, looking like a snack and a half. One I was starving to get a taste of.

Eager to be outside before I could be tempted to do anything stupid, I fetched my bag, threw my keys and phone in it, and turned to him. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” Carefully, he set the cat aside and stood from the couch. After a quick brush of his pants to get rid of the hairs she might have left on him, he did the button of his suit’s jacket.

【12】Corner Booth

My legs were still tender, so I clung onto the railway on our way down, worried my thighs might give up under me. I also hadn’t eaten anything since lunch—which I’d barely touched—so I was severely in need of sustenance.

“What are you in the mood for?” he asked once we were outside.

“There’s a pub that serves one of the best fish and chips I’ve ever had, three hundred yards that way. Is that okay?”

“It’s perfect. Lead the way, Miss Connelly.”

Less than three minutes later, we were entering the ever-lively pub Gigi and I often went to. There was a soccer match on, so the crowd was mostly gathered at the bar, actively watching the massive flat-screen hanging on top of it. It was warmer than I’d thought, so I removed my blazer, hooked it on the rack, and then scanned the place for a free table.

An electric prickle abruptly appeared in my spine, and right after, the soft pressure of a hand. He was touching me, barely, but enough to make my skin all warm and tingly, right where his hand was—slightly below the middle of my back.

After a second of stupor, shocked by how intense my reaction to this slight graze was, I turned to look up at him. He gestured with his chin, and my eyes followed the direction he’d shown. From his vantage point, he’d found us a booth. The pressure of his hand increased as he encouraged me to head over there.

I expected his fingers and palm to leave once I willed my feet to move, but they stayed right there against the thin layer of my silk shirt. It tortured me all the way there, making my entire body heat up even though he was barely even touching me. With a soft caress, he let me go once we’d reached the empty booth. It was in a retreated corner, far enough from the bar to be spared from the soccer enthusiasts.

“Do you also get a discount here?” he teasingly asked as we sat down.

“Only when the night ends with me dancing on the counter after too many pints.” It had only happened once, but Gigi and I had gotten a pretty decent price cut from it.

“And how many is too many?”

“Why? Would you like to see me dance, Mr. Westergaard?”

“I’d rather be the only one in the audience, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Heat flashed across my cheeks, my insides pulsing. Discreetly, I squirmed on the leather bench, attempting to shush the way my core awakened. This damned man…

The waitress, a sturdy woman in a black dress with white polka dots under her green apron, came to our table with an empty tray in her hand. “What can I get you, lovebirds?”

“We’re not—This isn’t—” I stumbled on my words, flustered. I wanted to explain this wasn’t a date, but I wasn’t sure what it was, if not one. We weren’t here for work, we hadn’t just come across one another… He’d come to my place to get me, and I’d even put on the sexiest lingerie I owned. I’d been on actual dates that hadn’t felt this much like one as this did.

Maybe this was a date, and I was just too far into my delusions to have accepted it.

“I’ll have fish and chips,” I ended up saying, unsure what our little outing could qualify as. “And a pint.”

“She’ll have five pints,” he amusedly interjected before looking at me with his damned intense eyes. “Let’s start with that and see where it takes us.”

I was grinning so widely that it was hard to tell the waitress, “No, just the one, thank you.” She nodded, unamused by his antics, and then turned to him for his order.

“I’ll have the same.”

Just like our lunch the day before, he’d gone with the same as me. He didn’t strike me as someone who didn’t have his own opinions. On the contrary, he looked like someone who knew exactly what he wanted. Was it that our tastes matched, or was it some sort of psychological technique to get me to trust him?

“It’s twice now that you’ve forced me to go out with you,” I pointed out, leaning back on the cushioned bench.

“I didn’t force you to do anything, love.”

“You didn’t give me much choice.”

“You could have refused both times, but you didn’t. I might not know you well yet, but I know you’re not one to be forced into anything, Miss Connelly. So let’s not pretend you’d rather be at home with your cats. You’d be there if you actually didn’t want to be here.”

His directness was unsettling. The man didn’t beat around the bush, and he didn’t care much for mind games or subtleties. It would take some getting used to, but it was…refreshing. In a sea of fuckboys and assholes, finding a man who was so unapologetically honest was a rare thing. And not only was he bluntly precise, he was also right. I’d be eating my pasta in front of my orca documentary if I’d preferred it to this unplanned dinner.

Barely hiding the smile that betrayed my enjoyment of his mind, I crossed my arms, which attracted his eyes to my cleavage for a short instant, before he looked up again.

“So, you would have left me alone if I’d refused?”

“Maybe not the first time, but I’m not a forceful arse. And regardless of that, what’s the point of going out with a woman who doesn’t want to? It sounds awfully dull.”

I crossed my legs in yet another attempt to quench the need that kept growing low in my stomach. The evening might actually end in my bed, and even the downside of Gigi gloating about it for months wasn’t a deterrent strong enough.

Under the table, my foot ended up against what must have been the side of his calf, and the heat that lit up behind his light blue eyes actually made something clench in me. Just because of the fire that danced in his pupils, I kept my leg right there and fought the urge to remove it.

“Do you know if Henriksen is still into whisky?” he asked.

The switch of topic disconcerted me for a second, which must have been clear with the way my brows furrowed. Why were we suddenly talking about my old professor? “Last I checked, yes. I even sent him a bottle for Christmas. Why?”

“The man’s getting a crate full of the best one I can find.” That was a twisted but efficient way to pay me a compliment. It, of course, delighted me, stretching my lips in a wider grin.

“And maybe I won’t reprimand him for forwarding my email to you, after all.”

“I’m afraid you’ll change your mind on this one.”

The waitress came back with our beers, preventing me from replying right away. “Why is that?” I asked once she was gone.

“Because I’m about to take something of great value away from you.”

It didn’t sound like a threat, more like a fact. There were even traces of remorse in his tone, as if he’d hold back if he could. My tongue was heavy in my mouth, my mind running wild as I tried to make sense of his words. He didn’t mean my heart, did he? No, he meant the sword.

“Is this why I’m here?” Straightening up, I removed my foot from his leg, distancing myself from him. “Is this part of your master plan to get the sword?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Then what am I doing here, Mr. Westergaard?” I was even more bitter than the brew in my pint.

“Do you want the honest, raw, and ugly truth?”

“I do.”

“It’s because I like you, Miss Connelly. And I would like you to not despise me by the end of this, even though I realize it might be asking too much.”

His admission unleashed a series of unwanted feelings, making something flutter in my chest. But despite the emotions wreaking havoc in my head, I did my best to focus on what truly mattered.

“Then it’s simple: forget about the sword.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Both.” His voice was imperious, leaving no room for debate. But his eyes held a different message, as if there was a slim chance that he’d let go.

“Why do you want it so much?”

“It’s a magnificent piece.”

“It is, but that’s a shallow motivation. There are beautiful artifacts available everywhere.”

“What about you? Why do you want the sword so much?”

“Aside from the fact that it’s my goal in life to study such relics and unveil ancient secrets?” I asked with irony. He nodded, unaffected by my temper. “It’s because I have the very strong suspicion that its owner is someone I have admired since I was eleven.”

His brows furrowed, his eyes gliding down to his pint for a moment. “Haakon Odinson is hardly a role model for a girl of that age.”

“I was a weird child.” It took me a moment, but then I realized what he’d just said. “You know who Haakon was?”

“Of course I do. He is the reason why I’m here.”

“Not just for a well-preserved sword?”

“No. I’m interested in it because it was his sword.”

“And why would that even matter to you?”

“Let’s just call it a family thing.”

Once more, this man was coming in the way of my intelligence, for some reason. I stared at him for several seconds, trying to understand what the meaning was underlying his cryptic words. He drank from his pint as I pondered, giving me the time I needed to put two and two.

Then it hit me.

“You’re his descendant.”

He swallowed two more sips of his dark beer and lowered the glass. “I am.”

“I thought his lineage died during the Black Death.”

“It nearly did. All but one perished from the plague.”

I took my pint by the handle to give myself some time to think about this. I’d done my research thoroughly, and after the terrible pandemic that had decimated part of Europe in the fourteenth century, I hadn’t found a single mention of Haakon’s descendants. So, understandably, I’d always been convinced that they’d all died.

Genealogy was a complicated thing, and while the man in front of me thought he was right, there was a high possibility that he was mistaken. Vikings didn’t even have surnames, which made the quest to retrace a family tree that much harder.

“How can you be so certain?” I questioned him, setting my pint back on the table.

“Because, Miss Connelly, for nearly fifty generations, we have been dutifully passing along one of his belongings. It’s a family tradition; our heritage.”

Still, it didn’t feel like sound and irrefutable proof. Having some old Norse antique that may or may not have belonged to Haakon Odinson wasn’t enough.

“Can I ask what the belonging is?”

Just with the way he looked at me, so determined and certain, I knew I wouldn’t like his answer.

“His second sword. Identical in every way to the one you have in the lab, except for the runes.”

Oh… That was a rather effective proof.

Damn it.

【13】Hard Bargain

I stared at the man in front of me, almost as though he was an alien. Was he being serious?

“Are you telling me you’re in possession of Haakon’s second sword?” I asked, baffled.

“It’s part of the Westergaard collection, yes.”

That information hit me on the head like a brick. Ever since finding the weapon in the crate Annie McCaine had sent, I’d been convinced that I’d made a massive discovery, one that would change many, many things we thought we knew. I’d imagined myself writing articles and even a book on the momentous finding.

But this man in front of me and his family had owned its twin the entire time? What did this mean for the one currently locked away in Henry’s lab? Was it found, even though its perfect clone had never been lost? Had the Westergaards ever had their sword analyzed? Did someone already know the secrets behind Haakon’s surprisingly resistant blades?

While I was spiraling in a mini existential crisis, he got rid of his suit’s jacket and hung it on a hook in the wall next to him. My mind returned to reality when he undid the buttons at his wrists and methodically rolled his sleeves over his forearms. A detail that I would have never ever expected revealed itself.

Tattoos. He had tattoos on his arms. One was part of a bigger design that went nearly all the way down to his wrist, taking up the whole forearm. And on the other side, a band of Celtic knots that circled the tight muscles, halfway to his elbow. Both were relatively simple, without any filling or shading, but precise and sharp, certainly done by a high-end professional.

While I wanted to think I was conflicted about it, the way my body reacted made it pretty clear that I thoroughly approved of it. It was stupid hot. This man was full of surprises, and I wondered what else I had yet to discover. For now, though, all I wanted was to know where else was he tattooed, and what the big design looked like.

But at the very moment, it didn’t matter. Not when the biggest finding of my career so far was in the balance.

“So…let me get this straight,” I warily began, averting my eyes from his muscular forearms. “You have one of Haakon’s blades.”

“I do.”

“And you want mine.”

“It’s not yours; it’s the museum’s.”

“Semantics. You want the sword that I received, even though you already have one that’s exactly the same.”

“To complete the set.” He was trying to be humorous, but I wasn’t having it.

“How selfish can one be? Has no one ever taught you about sharing?”

“I’m an orphaned only child, Miss Connelly. Of course, no one ever taught me how to share.”

Alright, now I felt like an asshole, even if his voice hadn’t been admonishing. I was still looking for what to say when the waitress came back with our fish and chips, along with a bottle of sauce, the vinegar, a sliced lemon, and napkins.

Right there, I decided it wasn’t a date. Not if he planned to go all the way with his threats to get the sword off my hands. The man didn’t deserve to enter my bedroom, see my pretty underwear, and be inside of me. Nuh-uh.

I picked a French fry and chewed it with silent rancor. Why could things never be simple with the men in my life?

But who was I kidding? There had never been anything simple about Ulrik Westergaard, and I’d known it from the start.

“From the email Henriksen forwarded me, I knew you were knowledgeable on Haakon. But I hadn’t realized it was a passion of yours. All the exclamation points you used in your email should have been a clue, though.”

“I won’t go as far as to say I’m the most knowledgeable person on him, but very few people know as much about Haakon Odinson as I do. I’ve spent the last twelve years looking for mentions and clues. And the second I stumble on his sword, the biggest, most insane thing I could ever have hoped for, you come in and ruin it.”

“I understand your frustration, but if that helps, the missing sword has been a concern for the Westergaards for much longer than twelve years.”

“It doesn’t really help, no.” I cut off a bit of my crispy fried fish and dipped it in the sauce, chewing it in silence.

“Did you know that you look particularly endearing when you’re sulking?” he casually asked after a moment, attempting to break the ice wall that had suddenly grown between us. “I think it’s the way your lips are pursed together. It’s like they are begging to be kissed.”

I swiftly un-pouted my lips, making it clear that he could get those ideas out of his head. That had him holding back an amused smirk. “Kissing me is a perk reserved for men who don’t stab me in the back, Mr. Westergaard.”

He shook his head, leaning into his seat and crossing his powerful arms with those damned tattoos on his broad chest. “What will it take for you to call me Ulrik?”

I pretended to think about it for a moment. “I’ll call you whatever you want if you promise not to steal my sword.”

“Not your sword, and I can’t do that. I only warned you as a courtesy. This wasn’t a way to open negotiations, love.”

“Don’t call me that.”

His lips transformed into a stiff line, his expression frustrated. Well, I was frustrated too, so it was only fair. “I wanted you to know so you could prepare for it. I will leave London with the sword, whether you like it or not.”

I pushed away my plate, having lost my appetite. “You are so impossibly pretentious. I can’t believe I actually fell for your little seduction game.” And I can’t believe I’m wearing my sexiest lingerie for this!

“You’re wearing what, now?” His left eyebrow shot up, slight amusement claiming his features again. Shit, had I said that last part out loud as well?

Refusing to let it affect the gravity of the situation, I dismissed my clumsy words and leaned forward, setting my forearms on the table. “I doubt Mullins told you this, but I was assigned a room for a temporary exhibition. It’s meant to stay in place for six months, and then become a traveling exposition across the UK for two years. It’s a great, great opportunity for me, one that will shape the rest of my career. I’ve chosen legendary Norse heroes, and I’m centering it around Haakon in particular. Finding this sword, his sword, wasn’t just random, it was destiny at this point. It was going to shape the entire scenography. And now, you’re too entitled to let people have access to it and marvel at its beauty and meaning.”

“I am entitled to it. It’s essentially a lost family heirloom.”

“I think there’s prescription after a millennium.”

“How about a compromise? The Westergaard collection is filled to the brink with priceless artifacts, books, and documents that have never been exposed to the public. Since I’m robbing you of your centerpiece, let me make up for it by loaning you whatever items you wish to borrow for the exhibit you’re curating. It should compensate for your loss—handsomely.”

I considered it. Really considered it. But unless he loaned me the other sword, I doubted that anything would make up for him taking the most impressive artifact I’d ever seen.

“No,” I replied dryly.

“What do you mean, ‘no?’”

“I mean I would rather do with what I currently have, thank you very much.”

“Once more, this isn’t an either/or conversation. I am taking the sword back to Norway. Do you want items from my private collection to make up for its absence in your exhibit?”

“Is your collection really that big?”

“The largest private Viking collection you’ll ever see.”

“And I can borrow anything from it?”

“Yes, for two and a half years, plus any extension the exposition might get.”

“Do you have a directory or some inventory of all the items?”

“Not with me, no.”

I expelled air from my nose, disappointed. It was hard to make a decision right now, especially since I had no idea what exactly the bargain he offered was worth.

“I have several written traces of Haakon, and objects that are rumored to have been his. I even have a written ballad from the thirteenth century that recounts his exploits.”

“Really? In which language?”

“In English. It was from a man of faith with Scandinavian origins, who probably heard the legends and translated them. I know it’s hard to believe right now, Miss Connelly, but I have material that will make up for the sword.”

While it was generous of him to offer compensation, I didn’t find it sufficient. It might solve my problem with the exhibit I had to curate, but it still robbed me of the discoveries I might have made thanks to the sword. Hell, I’d even considered steering my PhD thesis toward the finding, and now I had to reconsider everything.

“I’ll think about it,” I coldly said, eating another French fry before drinking from my pint.

“I realize you’re frustrated right now, but trust me, you’ll get over it.”

“What I’ll do is get over you .”

He chuckled, his grin so cocky and arrogantly confident. “I won’t let that happen, love.”

“Your rights to any pet name have been revoked, Mr. Westergaard. Stick to Miss Connelly, please.”

“You’ll have to stop being so difficult and stubborn.”

“Why? Does it annoy you?” I didn’t hide how delighted this made me feel. The man would realize that with me, he’d bitten off more than he could chew.

“No. It makes me hard.”

My eyes went huge, and I nearly choked on the beer I was sipping on. He hadn’t just said that! But given the way he was looking at me, with unmasked lust and want, I knew I’d heard him right.

“So, this is what gets you going? Upsetting women?”

“I’ve always enjoyed a good challenge. I find unpredictability to be very thrilling and exciting. And I haven’t encountered someone as promising as you in a long time, Miss Connelly.”

“A shame you botched it.”

“But did I?”

I averted my eyes and looked at the soccer match instead. I wanted to tell him and myself that yes, he’d ruined his chances with me. That if he went on with his enterprise to acquire the sword, he’d never get to win me over, to be challenged by my strong-mindedness.

But even now, I was aware of how much I wanted him. Yes, he’d closed a door, slammed it right in my face, but then he’d opened a window, offering me to borrow from his collection. He wasn’t a bad man, just an entitled rich guy who lived outside of my reality. He couldn’t see that the sword went so much beyond my own gratification, that it was a matter of public duty, something I had to have for the sake of history.

“If you take the sword away from me, you will,” I gravely declared, meeting his eyes so he could see I meant it.

I saw the way my answer affected him. Earlier, he’d said he liked me, and his reaction right there confirmed it. I intrigued him and he wanted more, but not enough to compromise his objective.

The rest of our dinner was spent in relative silence. The implications of my words weighted the atmosphere, altering our moods. Things were now crystal clear between us. Mr. Westergaard would either get the sword or me, but not both.

It might have been a lot to ask of a man I’d met thirty-something hours ago, but it was my price. If he wanted to explore this chemistry, to see where this could take us, then he’d have to learn how to share and let me have one of Haakon’s blades.

Now and then, the soccer people would erupt in cheers or indignation, the only interruptions in our quiet booth. But I couldn’t be bothered to check the flat-screen.

Since I’d barely touched my meal, I asked the waitress for a doggy bag. Or rather, a catty bag. I’d peel the crusty exterior and give the rest of the fish to the gang.

I insisted on paying for this one, and after much negotiation, he agreed. It was much cheaper than our lunch the day before, but it was still something.

On our way to the pub, the walk had been silent but full of excitement and promises. As we headed back to my building, though, it was clear that all that was now gone, replaced by broken expectations and crushed hopes. This thing between us might very well end before it had even started.

I didn’t know what to say, so I remained mute, reaching for my keys in my bag. I swapped the fob, and like earlier, he pushed the door open for me.

But unlike before, he didn’t move out of the way, staying right in the middle of the wide entrance. Because I had no other choice, I looked up at him. The conflict I could see in his eyes made something clench in my chest. And the desire in them made something else clench.

“I truly hope you can forgive me for this, Miss Connelly.”

“Why?”

He smiled crookedly. “Because I’m dying to know what your sexiest lingerie looks like, so I hope with everything to have that privilege one day.”

Breath caught in my throat, blocked by an invisible lump in the back of my mouth, which was both dry and salivating, somehow. My knees actually buckled, which left me full of shame and embarrassment. I didn’t want him to know just how much I needed him, especially with how this dinner had unfolded.

But he noticed. He most certainly did, given the way he grinned, victorious. His next move was full of confidence. He bent toward me, close enough so the warmth of his breath came to caress the slope of my neck.

“And also because I want to see you again like earlier, panting, skin beading with sweat, messed-up hair, and shaky legs. But I want to be the cause of it all.”

His whisper seeped right into my ear, thick with sensuality, raspy with promises, and dripping with want. My walls clenched onto themselves, begging me to put aside our rivalry and drag him upstairs, so he’d get to see what my nice panties looked like, right before tearing them off and filling me with all of him.

This was bad. The man was terrible for my resolve, for my independence, for my autonomy… Even now, despite his promise to get the sword away from me, I was tempted to lead him to my bed.

I’d always thought of myself as a strong woman, but this man had the ability to bend me like a straw.

He moved away slowly, remaining close without ever touching me. His lips nearly did, though, the ghost of a kiss lingering on my cheek as they barely grazed me. He looked down into my eyes, so tall, big, and gorgeous, and I considered dismissing everything else. I wanted him so much, none of it mattered when he looked at me like that, with so much desire in his blue eyes.

“Good night, Miss Connelly.”

“Good night, Mr. Westergaard,” I murmured back.

A few seconds later, after what could definitely qualify as eye-fucking, he stepped aside. I ripped myself from the trance he’d put me into and entered my building. The door didn’t creak behind me by the time I’d reached the stairs, so I knew he was still there, holding the door and watching me go.

Standing on the first step, I turned around, meeting his relentless gaze. “Ulrik, don’t—” I impulsively started. “Don’t take the sword away from me, please.”

His brows twisted in a conflicted way, his lips pinched together tightly. “I can’t do that, Mila,” he said after a moment had passed. “But I would if I could.”

Crushed, I gave myself a little more time to look at him, and then returned my attention to the stairs. I was just reaching the first floor when I heard the door squeak and close.

I paused with my fingers clenched around the handrail, sighing heavily. Maybe, just maybe , he’d change his mind at the last minute.

Who needed two ancient Viking swords that much, anyway?

【14】Spacing Out

To say I was morose the next day would be an understatement. After my maybe-not-a-date-after-all with Mr. Westergaard, I’d lay in bed for the longest time, lost in my thoughts. When Gigi had come home after her shift, I’d pretended to sleep when she’d checked on me to avoid having to talk about it. Then, I’d slept poorly all the way to my alarm, only to wake up disillusioned and bitter.

This messed-up situation posed two issues that couldn’t be sorted out. First, I’d lose the sword eventually, whenever Mr. Westergaard would make his move and take it away from me. Then, once that was done, I would be forced to accept that the man was an ass, regardless of how much I enjoyed his presence.

In a way, I wasn’t scared to move on. I’d done it in the past and I’d do it again. It was a shame, yes, and a lot of wasted potential. But in the end, he was just another man passing through my life.

No, what scared me was that I might give in regardless, bruising my pride and slapping my ego right in the face. What sort of pathetic woman would sleep with a man she knew was a damned asshole? Not the kind of woman I wanted to be, that was for sure.

As soon as I arrived at work, I took a detour to the lab before heading to my office. Only God knew how long we had left with the sword, so I would need Henry to make as many discoveries as he could. After that, it would spend the rest of its days gathering dust in a dark room of the Westergaard Estate.

I entered the lab with my laptop bag on my shoulder, my travel mug in one hand, and a second cup of coffee in the other. I’d stopped to get Henry his favorite coffee on the way, so he’d be full of caffeine and work faster. I’d even bought him a pastry for the sugar rush.

“Hey there, Morton,” I greeted him.

“’Morning, Connelly.”

“I got you some coffee and a pastry.”

He looked at me suspiciously, squinting his eyes at the cup and paper bag. “What are you about to ask of me?”

“What do you mean? I bring you coffee at least once a week.” I sounded appalled, which I was.

“I know a bribe when I see one. This is a large cup, and you always go for a medium. Also, pastries are what you get me when you have a favor to ask. You want something, right?”

“Maybe?” I admitted, setting the cup and the bag next to him on his desk. “Got anything new for me?”

“Will you take those back if I don’t?”

“I’m not a monster,” I laughed.

“Well, good, because I don’t have anything. But I do have a bunch of new questions that I can’t answer, if that’s any consolation.”

“Ugh, it’s not.” There was a spare chair against the wall by his side, so I went to sit on it, letting myself plop down dramatically and letting go of my computer bag.

“Talk to me, mate. What’s the matter?”

“We might not have the sword for much longer. The man you met the other day, Mr. Westergaard? He’s determined to have it, and I’m afraid he might succeed.”

“Can he…do that? I’ve never heard of someone buying a piece from us. We’re not an antique shop.”

“Well, given his confidence, I think he can, yes. Which means we have to act fast if we want to solve the mystery behind the sword.”

“How long do we have?”

“I don’t really know. My best guess is a week? Maybe a little less? I’m coming in tomorrow just so I can work on it. I don’t think they’ll let me in on Sunday, though. Ian’s usually there when this happens, and I probably don’t have clearance for it.”

“I’d love to help, but I can’t make it tomorrow, sorry. I’m taking Camille away for the weekend.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, she misses her family, so we’re leaving tonight for Paris, and then coming back early on Monday morning.”

“That sounds fun. I hope you two will have a good time.” It was a shame that he wouldn’t be able to work on the sword this weekend, but I couldn’t expect my frantic obsession to relate to everyone else. “I imagine you can’t leave the lab’s keys with me, right?”

“I’m sorry, I really can’t, Mila. It’s not that I don’t trust you with it, but if Mullins or my boss comes by and sees you in here when they know I’m away, I might get in serious trouble.”

“Yeah, I get it, no worries. But can you put the 3D reconstruction and your test results on the shared drive? So I can still access some of it.”

“Of course. Let me do it right now.”

My eyes were lost on his screen as he worked, and I dug into the cinnamon roll I’d bought for myself. But while my body was here, my thoughts traveled back to the evening before. There was something about Ulrik Westergaard that kept tugging at the back of my mind. He intrigued me more than any man I’d ever met before. It was as though I was starving for more of him, longing to learn everything about him, to drown in his overwhelming aura.

The last words he’d told me before we’d parted, and the poignancy of his tone had haunted me for most of the night. I can’t do that, Mila. But I would if I could…

It made sense that the sword held so much value for him, given that his family had looked for it for generations. I should even have been honored that I could make him even hesitate to let go of it. I just wished it was for more than a conflicted instant. Not only so I could get to keep the sword, but also so I’d feel valued.

“All good,” Henry let out, bringing me back to earth. “You have access to the data from your computer. I want to say, ‘don’t text me while I’m on a romantic weekend with my fiancée,’ but I know you, so I won’t. Only emergencies, yeah?”

“I promise I’ll try not to text at all.”

He approved with a nod.

We sat in silence for a moment, letting the reality of the situation sink in. Our great find would soon be taken away from us, like a rug pulled from under. Our hopes to make our careers great thanks to it were slowly dying.

“Maybe it’s not such a bad thing, in the end,” he suggested.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the more I try to understand it, the more confused I get. Yesterday, I sent a report to a mate from uni, and he answered that he didn’t have time for my jokes.”

“Yeah, Ian still thinks it’s all a prank that we refuse to let go of.”

“At least we have each other on this.”

“Yeah, thank you, by the way, for hanging in there and having my back.”

“Sure, mate. It’s a shame this turned out to be bigger than us.”

“We’re Britain’s biggest museum. There’s nothing above us. Experts send us their puzzling findings; we don’t outsource.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mila. I can’t explain why the gold comes from Scandinavia, but the sapphires are probably from India. I can’t explain why there’s iron in there, but it never oxidized, and why it’s razor-sharp after so long. And I can’t understand why I can’t do a single scratch on the blade, no matter how hard I try. I’ve officially broken my power tools on it.”

With a pout on my lips, I turned to the safe where the sword was put away. I’d known it was a great find from the very start, and every day that passed only reinforced that impression.

“If you had to give one theory to explain all this, what would it be?” I asked Henry, looking at him again.

“Well, either Annie McCaine has some serious resources and wants to drive us mad with a costly prank, or…” he trailed off, hesitating to say the rest.

“Or?”

“Aliens.”

“Wha—Aliens?”

“Yes.”

“From outer space?” I insisted.

“That’s usually where they come from, yes.”

“You think the sword has something to do with aliens?”

“That would explain a few things that don’t have a rational explanation,” he insisted, half-joking. “Like the resistance of the alloy, the rare shape of it, or the sapphires.”

I rolled my eyes with a sigh. Now, he was just being ridiculous.

“We know Vikings were much bigger travelers than we originally thought. They went all the way to North America, and through the Volga and the Caspian Sea, they reached Baghdad as well. It’s not that unthinkable that they could have acquired sapphires at some point. As for the alloy, we still haven’t figured out how they came up with the Ulfberht swords. This is the same kind of mystery—just juicier.”

“I still like my theory that aliens had a hand in this. If they even have hands and not…tentacles.”

“Have you found any component that isn’t on the periodic table?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“No. Not yet, at least.”

“Well, until you do, aliens had no part in this.”

“What is happening right now?”

“What do you mean?” I wondered, confused.

“I’m normally the killjoy. You’re the optimist who always sees the best in things.”

I stared at him with furrowed brows. “I don’t care about aliens, is what’s happening. I’d much rather we prove all of this is all Viking, and unearth new facts and theories we never thought were possible.”

“I’d rather it was alien,” he mumbled.

“It’s not. Now, back to work, Henry Morton. Only God knows how long we’ll have the privilege of working on that sword. And since you prefer spending time with your fiancée, we are losing an entire day.”

“She treats me heaps better than you do.”

“I brought you coffee,” I bargained.

“She gives me head, Mila.”

I snorted, amused and shocked by his very casual statement.

“And I give you headaches.”

“Exactly. Now, do you have something you’d like me to do in particular? I’m still running tests the best I can to figure out all the components of the alloy that make up the blade. As for the sapphires, I’ve taken photographs with the microscope. I’ll send those to a gem expert in Switzerland, to see if he can tell me where they’re from.”

“No, that sounds great. I’ll tell you if I think of something.”

I had finished my cinnamon roll, so I scrunched the paper bag into a ball, then threw it from where I sat into his trash can. “Nice shot, LeBron.”

After I’d picked up my computer bag, I rose from my chair and came closer to his desk. “Tell me if you find something, anything, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Are you gonna eat that?” I asked, pointing at the paper bag of his untouched pastry.

“Of course, I will. Stay away from it, you glutton.”

Damn, I should have bought two for myself.

We parted with a wave, agreeing to have lunch together later, and I left the lab with my mug in hand.

【15】Ludicrous Theories

Once I reached my shared office, I sat behind my desk after greeting Ian and Ingrid. Things were changing again, since I might lose Haakon’s sword soon, so I reopened my older files, dismissing the ones I’d worked on the day before. I had to make the exhibit work, even without a piece as stunning as the one Mr. Westergaard wanted to take away from me. Understandably, I wasn’t allowed to use the items exposed in the permanent collection. But everything we had in the archive rooms was fair game.

The issue was that all the best artifacts, the ones with the most value, the ones that were interesting and well-preserved, were out of my reach. I’d contacted the Jorvik Viking Centre in York, as well as the House of Manannan on the Isle of Man, asking to borrow from their reserve. Both had replied positively, but I worried it would be the same there. The best pieces were taken, and I’d be left with the spare ones.

While I consulted the inventory on my computer, Mr. Westergaard’s offer ran laps in my skull. What if he had, indeed, countless magnificent pieces? Although he was incredibly cocky, he didn’t strike me as a liar or a fraud. He wasn’t that kind of person. At least, I hoped he wasn’t.

The most tempting thing was those documents he’d mentioned. Since Haakon Odinson was at the center of my exhibit, I needed all I could get about him, be it rumored belongings or written traces. If it was early enough, the design team could even work on that ballad he’d mentioned, and create a little animation about it, which could loop on one of the screens. I’d have to talk with the exhibition designer I’d been assigned to, to see what he thought of all this. But just like me, he’d found that the items I’d selected lacked a certain…punch.

It was all very nice and educational, but it wasn’t the kind of exhibit that would have people coming back or strongly recommending it to others. No, it missed something special, an extra oomph.

Like that damned sword.

When lunch came, I was beginning to despair. I’d gone over the inventory I’d gotten from York, and I hadn’t found anything interesting. At least, nothing that could fit the theme I’d chosen months ago. But I knew the theme was a good one—it was exciting, thrilling, even. Who wouldn’t want to learn more about legendary heroes in Norse myths?

The idea of a man who was feared by all, rumored to be the direct son of a god was exhilarating. Tales and songs about Haakon claimed he fought with the strength of a hundred men, like a one-man army. I’d found traces of him scattered all over Europe, all the way to Iraq. And at an age where the average person barely traveled outside of their birthplace, let alone their country.

No, the theme was good. What I needed was better material, so I could show people just how exciting history could be.

Henry noticed my gloomy mood as we ate, so he attempted to cheer me up by telling me about his advances. The expert from Zurich hadn’t analyzed the microscope pictures yet, but he’d already replied to say that the gems were of exquisite quality, worth a lot more than we’d even thought. The sapphires were flawless, each valued at ten thousand dollars or more.

While it didn’t help much for our quest to understand the sword, it told us Haakon was extremely wealthy, as much as a king, if not more. Or, if it was all a scam, Annie McCaine had a small fortune hidden somewhere.

“I still think it’s aliens, by the way,” he said, opening his strawberry yogurt.

“Then you’re wasting your time.”

“Come on, mate, think about it.”

“I am thinking about it, and it still doesn’t make any sense. Why would superior beings come down here eleven centuries ago, forge two swords, hand them to some guy, and then leave?”

“But that’s the thing. What if Haakon Odinson was, in fact, from another planet?”

Speechless, I stared at him. I blinked a few times, waiting for the rest of the joke, but nothing came. Henry was a relatively grounded man, but I wasn’t sure if he was just being silly or if he truly believed this. We’d spoken about extraterrestrial life before, and we both agreed that given the infinity of space, we were far from being the only ones. But there was a big difference between acknowledging that we weren’t the only planet with sentient life and arguing that some had visited and influenced us.

“Henry, this is incredible…” I breathed out with feigned enthusiasm.

“You think so too?”

“Yes, oh my God. I never realized before, but…you’re a complete idiot.” His excited face quickly turned into an unamused scowl. My next words were filled with cynicism. “Clearly, you’ve breathed too many chemicals.”

“I think you don’t realize just how unexplainable this sword is.”

“But isn’t that the thing with science, though? Things aren’t just magical; everything can be explained rationally and mathematically. You can’t just blame it on aliens when you don’t understand something. Send my phone five hundred years into the past, and they’d think it’s witchcraft. But we know it’s science.”

He considered my words for a moment, looking very focused and serious. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted.

I frowned, confused. “Of science?”

“No, time travel. What if this sword comes from the future, but through the past? Or better: time-traveling aliens.”

“Alright, I’m done here. See you later.” I stood at once and picked up my untouched apple and empty food container.

“But wait, this isn’t completely impossible. It would actually explain so many…” The rest of his words were swallowed by the surrounding noises as I walked away. I didn’t have time for his antics. Especially since he was possibly fooling around.

Early in the afternoon, I had a video call with a friend of my father’s. James Cox worked at Harvard teaching American history, and he’d asked for my support in explaining the Vikings’ expansion all the way to Canada. So, from one of the rooms we had for that sort of call, I’d given an hour-long lecture to an auditorium full of students, projected on a massive screen over three thousand miles away.

I’d done a few of these now, but not enough to be completely relaxed. I always worried that my slides would glitch or that I’d lose connection. Everything went great, though, and it allowed me to take my mind off things, even if it was just for an hour plus questions.

Once I was done, I stopped by the exhibition designer’s office to see if he had time for a chat during the incoming week. We agreed to meet on Tuesday for a much-needed talk. I had less than two months to complete the exhibition, and I suddenly felt like those three previous months I’d worked on it had been all for nothing.

Since I hadn’t done it yet, I then went to archive room D to catalog the pieces we’d received from Annie’s crates. I took pictures, and wrote descriptions and time period estimates, before sealing them in zip bags and finding them a suitable box to be kept in. The jewels were nice, nothing of great value, but well-preserved. The bracelet was still the nicest one in the lot, so I made a mental note to see if it could be incorporated somewhere in the permanent exhibition.

I was lost in my work when the thought of Ulrik Westergaard came back, like a prickling sensation in the back of my neck. He hadn’t texted or called all day. I realized it was a lot to expect, but I couldn’t help myself.

For once in my life, I wanted a man to harass me with texts, with the cheesy “Good morning, gorgeous,” or even just an underwhelming “wyd?” Honestly, anything but this radio silence. The man had bluntly confessed to wanting to fuck me senseless, and now…nothing.

The pettiness I was feeling didn’t fade as I kept working. In fact, it only got worse. Next time I saw Mr. Westergaard, I would let him know what I thought of his seducing tactics and terrible manners.

I was halfway through the McCaine items when someone joined me in the archive room. Because I was taking a picture, I didn’t turn to see who it was right away. But once the shot was taken, I looked toward the newcomer. It was Ian, all tall and broad in his blue plaid shirt, mindlessly passing a hand over his beard. I knew it was a sign of nervousness for him, so I set the camera down and went to him.

“What’s up, boss?”

He hesitated for a few seconds, stopping his nervous fidgeting on his beard. “I wanted to apologize.”

Now I was properly intrigued. The man hadn’t done anything wrong. Not that I knew of. “For what?”

“I really thought ye and Henry were pulling a prank on me with that sword. It wouldn’t be the first time ye did something like this, ye cheeky lass. But I realize now it wasn’t, so I’m sorry for not taking ye more seriously.”

“I guess it’s okay,” I answered, merciful. “I know how crazy it looks and sounds, so your reaction makes sense. It’s nice that you’ve realized we’re being serious, though.”

“Aye, it was just so…unlikely, ye know?”

“Oh, trust me. I know.”

Now that he was on board, maybe I could negotiate something with him so that I could come to work at least part of Sunday. He lived nearby, so he might be okay with coming for a few hours this weekend, during which I’d join him. Maybe he could even help me out with the research, because God knew I needed a hand.

“What made you realize, by the way?”

He frowned, his thick eyebrows lowering on his green eyes. “Ye’ve not heard?”

“Heard what?” My heartbeat didn’t wait for his reply to speed up.

“Someone just bought the sword. Mullins’ secretary told me. And for that price, I knew it couldn’t be a fake.”

It was as though the world was crumbling on itself around me. A hundred thoughts clogged my mind while my heart jumped into my throat, making it hard to breathe.

After all, Mr. Westergaard had dismissed my pleas. He’d bought the sword, ignoring just how important it was for me, deciding I didn’t matter enough to be spared. But besides all that, he’d made his move so much earlier than I’d thought he would, robbing me of the sword before I could make any considerable findings about it.

This wasn’t normal. Since when did museums favor money over work ethic? How could Mullins have agreed to this? No amount of money could justify selling out what might be one of the museum’s greatest finds.

“Are ye alright, lass?”

I looked up to meet Ian’s worried gaze. “Yes, uh… I—I need to go talk to Mullins,” I struggled to say.

“Is everything okay, Mila?”

“No—Yes. I don’t know… I need a moment.”

There was a sharp pain in my chest, as if I’d been stabbed by a needle right into my heart. This felt like betrayal, like a knife plunged into my back. And he had been the one doing it.

I exited the archive room, ignoring Ian’s interjection, and walked to the nearest stairs. Before I knew it, my feet had brought me to Mullins’ office, my mind blinded with incomprehension and distrust.

His secretary smiled kindly upon seeing me, but her face changed when she understood I was going straight for the door. “Miss, you can’t go in there,” she insisted. “He’s unavailable at the moment. Miss—”

Before she could get up and stop me, I grabbed the handle and swung the door open. It didn’t matter if he was my boss, he’d hear exactly what I thought of his unacceptable methods.

As expected, the director was sitting at his desk, settled in the middle of the rich interior. His office was full of trinkets and artifacts, the wooden furniture warming the room. One could easily tell he’d occupied this position for nearly twenty years, as it was filled with mementos of his life, pictures of him with his family members, or with the important personalities he’d met through his career—including the Queen.

Upon seeing me barge in, his eyes widened behind his round glasses. “Miss Connelly, I’m in a meeting.” He gestured toward the large leather chair on the opposite side of his desk, and only then did I realize that someone was sitting on it.

My blood froze and boiled in my veins all at once, even though I could only see the man’s back. Between the impeccable dirty blond hair and the broad shoulders covered by an expensive suit, I knew exactly who it was.

Slowly, Mr. Westergaard turned around, twisting his upper body to look at me.

Fuming, I stared back.

“You…” I threateningly groaned.

【16】Can’t Have Both

Despite all the things I wanted to tell Mr. Westergaard, I forced myself to focus on my boss instead. I shouldn’t have any expectations for a man who was essentially a stranger; a man I’d met two days ago. But my boss? Oh, I could expect the bare minimum from him.

“You can’t let him have it,” I protested vehemently, gesturing at Mr. Westergaard.

“Miss Connelly, this isn’t the time or place for this.”

“Please, sir. This is–this is too important. You can’t let him have the sword.”

Mr. Mullins sighed, looked at his guest with contriteness, and then shook his head. “My deepest apologies, Mr. Westergaard. Would you mind giving us a moment?”

“Of course. I believe we were otherwise done here.”

I watched as he stood from the leather chair, buttoned his jacket, and then shook Mr. Mullins’ hand. When he turned my way, his eyes fell on me, but I was too upset to hold his gaze, swiftly angling my face to the side. I’d warned him. It would be me or the sword, but not both. The smell of him invaded my nostrils as he passed by me, weakening my defenses.

The door opened and closed behind me, but even with him gone, I was tense all over.

“Miss Connelly, please sit.”

I considered arguing, feeling more confident standing, but I ended up obeying. Maybe I should be a little more conciliatory, given how I’d just acted like I owned the place. The chair was warm, almost too warm, and I was highly aware of who’d just sat on it.

“I realize why you’re upset,” he began, removing his glasses and fetching a cloth from his drawer. “In all honesty, I admire your passion and dedication for the job. Which is why I will let this pass. How many people would you say work at the museum?”

I gave it a brief thought while he inspected the state of his now clean glasses. “Six hundred?”

“Eight hundred and thirty-six,” he corrected me with a matter-of-fact tone, slipping his glasses back on and getting rid of the cloth. “About half of which—including you—are care, research, and conservation. Mr. Westergaard’s yearly contribution is consequent enough to pay for those four hundred and fifteen employees. Between that and his offer for the sword, Mr. Westergaard is giving to this museum nearly as much as the government is. At this point, if the man wishes me to bark for his entertainment, I just might.”

His last statement took a second to make its way into my brain, but when he did, I almost chortled. He perceived it and offered me a genuinely apologetic smile. “I truly am sorry that you’re losing something in this, but sacrifices have to be made. I’ve been making those for eighteen years now, to not only keep this boat afloat, but so we can keep supporting charitable organizations, finance digs, and educate our six million yearly visitors. Do not think of this in terms of money, because that isn’t what it is. Also, I spoke with Mr. Morton after lunch to help make my decision, and I believe this is the best course of action in the grand scheme of things.”

He’d spoken with Henry? And it had comforted him in his decision to sell the sword? What the hell had Henry told him?

“Did he speak of aliens? If he did, it was only him being silly, there’s no way this is—”

“Aliens? Heavens no, what is this about? He merely explained to me the complexity of the find. You’re too smart not to realize this artifact could never be exposed, Miss Connelly. People would think we’re scamming them, trying to make a buzz and go viral. I have looked at the issue from every angle and have made the decision I judged to be the wisest. You may not agree with it, but it is what it is.”

I felt like a kid being asked into the principal’s office to be scolded—by a very lenient principal, admittedly. I didn’t know where to look, embarrassed to have reacted the way I had. Being passionate about my work didn’t always play in my favor.

“It really is a one of a kind find, sir,” I explained, hoping it could justify my attitude.

“And I believe you, Miss Connelly. I was rather impressed myself when Mr. Morton showed it to me. But between an old sword no one would believe in and the salary of half of my employees, you can understand why I chose the latter.”

He was right, of course. It made sense, and I couldn’t blame him for what had happened. In fact, I didn’t blame him for taking the offer at all. No, the only person responsible for the mess was the man who’d made the offer.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mullins,” I said with honesty. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way. I just…might have lost the greatest find of my career, days after I stumbled upon it. It didn’t feel right, or fair.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, miss. You’re still young and you have a great career ahead of you. I’m confident you’ll find a lot more than that.” He offered me a discreet wink, which went all the way to my heart.

This man really was a good person, and it was clear that he’d considered everyone’s interest in this matter.

“I’m sorry again, sir,” I repeated, getting up from my chair.

“Don’t mention it. But keep that fire burning, Miss Connelly. It’s people like you who make the world move.”

I thanked him with a shy smile and then went to the door. The rage I felt upon entering had now shifted into sadness. The deed was done and there was nothing I could do to change it. Mr. Westergaard would take the sword, and I would be left with nothing but an exhibition that I wasn’t sure I could bring to the finish line. Everything I’d been through since opening Annie McCaine’s crates had amounted to a big fat nothing.

And it was the same for the sizzling attraction that had grown between me and Mr. Westergaard. Nothing but disappointment. As often with men.

When I opened the door, I expected to meet the secretary’s reprimanding face. But instead, my eyes were drawn to the man sitting on the other side of the room, patiently waiting on the couch there. He rose from it as soon as he saw me, but I shut the door and determinedly walked away.

I was not letting him brainwash me with his astute words and mesmerizing eyes. I’d been way too clear with him to let this slide. Although I walked as fast as I could, he had no problem keeping up with my pace, thanks to his tall frame.

“Mila, wait.” I not only ignored him, but I also dismissed how my name on his lips made me feel. “We need to talk.”

“We don’t need to anything , Mr. Westergaard.”

“So we’re back to surnames, now? Will you stop for a moment!” I did, so abruptly that he took another step before stopping as well. There were a few people passing by us, but I ignored them, focusing on him. “This is why I told you I would get the sword. I wanted you to be prepared for it.”

“How can someone be prepared for a stab in the back? Who am I, Cesar?” His lips twitched with contained amusement. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“I’m not. It was just…endearingly nerdy.”

“Oh, hell no. Go throw your effortless charm at someone else, sir. I’m done with you.” To mark my words, I resumed my walk.

He stopped me not even one step into my escape, grabbing my arm firmly. I yelped with surprise when he opened the door labeled “Maintenance” right next to him, and pushed me in it. I barely had time to register that it was a small closet, and he joined me in there, flicking the light on and closing the door behind us.

The space was small, and with the two cleaning carts occupying most of it, we were almost against one another, our bodies nearly flush together.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” I whisper-shouted at him, worried someone might find us in this very compromising situation.

“Forcing you to listen, Mila.”

“Don’t call me that.” His nostrils flared as he expelled air from his nose, frustrated. “I made things very clear,” I reminded him. “It was either me or the sword, and you’ve made your choice.”

“I did what I had to, you obstinate mule.” Although he hadn’t meant it as an insult, I took it as such. I tried to slip by him to reach the door, but he easily blocked me with his large body. “Let me go, you asshole.” Tears of anger and frustration gathered in my eyes, troubling my vision. Damn it, I didn’t want him to see me like this. He didn’t deserve a single one of those tears.

I recoiled when his hands reached up, and gasped when he grabbed my face. With a delicate hold, he forced me to look up and meet his eyes, as though he wanted to make me face the truth.

“You knew this was coming. I told you it would. It may feel like such, but this isn’t the end of the world. It’s merely a bump in your life.”

Trapped by his hold as much as by the blue of his irises, I stood there, getting high on his proximity, the electrifying touch of his hands warming my skin all the way to the bones.

“I thought—I thought I could make you change your mind,” I confessed. Regret twisted his brows slightly.

“You could. A few more days, a few more encounters, and you would have. This is why I decided to come to Mullins today, before you came in the way.”

“Really?”

“Yes, love. Every time you opened your mouth, you made me reconsider.”

“I should have spoken a lot more, then,” I argued with a pout.

His eyes dropped to my lips, which reminded me of what he’d said the evening before. It’s like they are begging to be kissed…

I should have done something, un-pout them or pinch them into a bothered line, even. But I did nothing, as if my brain had frozen. Instead, I looked at him from below, staring into his mesmerizing eyes while they glided over my inadvertently inviting mouth.

Would he kiss me? It was very clear that he was considering it. Maybe I could do something to invite him to, like stretch his way, purse my lips more, close my eyes… But after what he’d just done to me, I was as conflicted as he seemed at the moment. He’d made his choice, and it wasn’t me.

“I warned you that you couldn’t have both.” My voice was barely more than a whisper. That prompted his gaze to let go of my mouth, to look into my eyes instead.

“It’s in my nature to be greedy, Miss Connelly. My blood longs for a beautiful woman as much as it does a priceless treasure.”

I lifted my hands to grab his wrists, noting that my fingers couldn’t even circle them entirely. “It seems this treasure does have a price, Mr. Westergaard.” I pulled on his wrists to force him to release me. “It costs a small fortune and the beautiful woman.”

【17】It Will Pass

Upon my insistence, he let go of me, the warmth of his palms and fingers replaced by the coolness of the room. We stared at one another for a moment, relenting to let this end. The surrounding silence was a stark contrast to the deafening tempest wreaking havoc in my mind.

After a few seconds that felt like a minute each, he turned to the side to open the door. He didn’t move to exit the closet, though, leading me to understand I’d have to slip between him and the maintenance cart. Eager to get away from this oppressive space, I did that, leaning onto the cart so I’d barely brush against him.

Without a look behind, I hastily made my way down the hallway until I reached the stairs. Once the door was closed behind me, I grabbed the railing to lean on it, a hand pressed onto my chest over my hectic heart. I’d done the right thing, for my pride and my dignity, but why did it feel so wrong?

Going home to an empty apartment didn’t sound very appealing, so after I’d stayed at work for two hours longer than I should have, I headed to Gigi’s restaurant instead. Thursday nights were relatively calm, so a third of the tables were free when I arrived. I didn’t feel like sitting there alone, though, so I waved through the serving hatch at Gigi and the two others in the kitchen, and walked to the swinging door. I headed directly to the tiny room she had in the back, which served as an office and pantry.

“Everything good?” she asked from the doorway once I was settled on her desk chair.

“Eh, not really.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later? I’m still processing it right now.”

“Alright, sweets. What do you want to eat?”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“That’s not an acceptable answer, Mila. You’re in my restaurant, you’ll eat my food.”

Her tough love was exactly what I needed, so I didn’t complain. Instead, I offered her a small smile. “Surprise me, babe.”

With a grin and a wink, she went back to her kitchen. I remained in there, enjoying the distant noises of the kitchen, as well as the aromas that reached in here.

As I’d done a hundred times since that moment in the closet with Mr. Westergaard, I checked my phone, hoping to see a message from him. He had my number, so for some reason, I’d expected him to apologize for what he’d done, to try to explain himself, to say we needed to talk… Although, I wasn’t sure what I’d reply to the latter. But it didn’t matter because he hadn’t texted me, and it seemed he wouldn’t. It was too late for it now.

Gigi came back about ten minutes later with a tray.

“There you go, sweets.”

With wide eyes, I looked at the content of the tray she settled before me. There was so much to eat, and it all looked delicious. Spoiling others with food was her love language, so I was lucky to have a fast metabolism. She was the reason why I’d taken up running again, which I hadn’t done since my track star times in high school.

“Are you trying to romance me?” I asked with a sly smirk. “Because it’s working.”

“Oh, please… You’re the most desperately heterosexual person I know. It’s a tad pathetic how much you like men, even.”

“You like men too,” I reminded her with a frown.

“No, I enjoy their bodies. I like men for sex, but I adore women for love. I mean, have you met men? They are so dependent, helpless, and needy. It’s like having an overgrown child that you keep around because he’s good at sex. And that’s not even the case for a lot of women…”

“Not all men are like that, you know.”

“Ew, I can’t believe you just said that,” she said with a disgusted shrug. I laughed at her antics.

“You’re so dramatic, sometimes.”

“And you need to get over dicks. Imagine how amazing we’d be as a couple.”

“Oh, we’d be unstoppable. Gigi and Mimi for life.”

“That’s the spirit.” Looking very content, she walked back to her duties, leaving me with my oversized dinner.

I’d barely eaten a third of it, full to the brink, when she came back twenty minutes later. She’d gotten rid of her flowery apron, had changed into her city shoes, and was holding her backpack over one shoulder.

“Alright, let’s go blow off some steam,” she ordered.

“What? Your shift isn’t over.”

“It’s okay, Stef said she’d handle the rest of the evening. The big rush is over, so I’m not that needed.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, getting up with my bag. She took the tray, and I followed her to the sink and dishwasher in the back.

“We’re going to have some old-fashioned fun.”

“Oh God, tell me we’re not going clubbing.” She’d settled my tray by the sink, and took care of the garbage can that was full, tying the bag.

“On a Thursday evening? Have you gone mad? That’s when all the pathetic people are out, desperate to get laid, too starved to wait for the weekend to come like everybody else. No, we’re going to that ax throwing place you love so much.”

“Really?!” We were exiting through the back door, into a small alley where the garbage bins were.

“Yes, but this officially makes me the best flatmate ever.” I held one of the lids open for her, and she threw the bag in there.

“I won’t argue with that.”

Twenty minutes later, after allowing ourselves to order a car, we were entering the ax throwing bar. I’d been here several times in the past, sometimes with colleagues, sometimes with friends, and often with Gigi. While I liked it because it was a very Viking-like hobby, she enjoyed knowing she wouldn’t be completely helpless if there was ever a zombie apocalypse.

The man who greeted us recognized us, welcoming us back with a warm smile. It was relatively quiet, so he easily found us a spot. We booked it for an hour and ordered a round of pints right away.

“Do you want to talk about it now?” Gigi asked once we were alone, handing me my ax.

“It’s just work. Things took an unexpected turn and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Are you in trouble, sweets?”

“No, it’s okay. But you know that sword I told you about?”

“Yeah, the freaky one with the gems?”

Holding the ax above my head, I aimed and threw, making the weapon spin forward until it hit the slice of log ten feet away, dead in the center. That felt good, for some reason. That woman knew me well, and this was exactly what I needed at the moment.

“They’re taking it away from me. I won’t be able to study it in the end,” I told Gigi.

“Oh, no… I’m so sorry to hear that, Mimi. And you can’t do anything?”

“No, Mr. Westergaard already bought it.”

She gasped so hard it was almost comical. I went to fetch my ax from the log, giving her some time to process that new fact.

“He bought it?! Knowing how much it mattered to you?”

“I even begged him not to.”

“That utter arse… I can’t believe I rooted for him.” It was her turn to shoot, and she did it with a little too much strength, visibly annoyed. The ax landed the wrong way on the log, bouncing back and falling on the floor.

“And I can’t believe I rooted for him, too.”

“That’s it, then,” she declared, coming back with her ax. “All men are idiots, and we shall remain together forever and be the happiest we can be.”

“Deal.”

“We can even share Joaquim if you want.”

Tall, dark, and handsome, Joaquim was her current booty call. Born right here in London from Angolan parents, he had worked his ass off his whole life to become a surgeon. But he wasn’t looking for anything serious at the moment—just like Gigi—so their arrangement worked fine for both of them.

“I’m not gonna sleep with Joaquim. It would be weird,” I countered.

“Oh, he wouldn’t mind. He told me the other day that he found you hot. I promise I wouldn’t even try to make it a threesome.” I snorted, amused by her insistence.

“I’d rather find myself my own friend with benefits, thanks.”

We stayed at the bar for nearly two hours, dissing men, throwing axes, and drinking a pint and a mojito each. As I often did, I felt blessed to have Gigi in my life. She may have been opinionated in some aspects, but she remained a ray of sunshine. My ray of sunshine. As long as I had her, things would be fine.

As the evening went by, I thought about how Mr. Westergaard had told me this might feel like the end of the world at the moment, but it was only a bump. Slowly, I was accepting that he’d been right.

I would get over the loss of the sword and move on to new things. But more importantly, I would get over him .

---

I wasn’t expecting the sword to still be there the day after Mr. Westergaard had bought it, so I was pleasantly surprised to find Henry working on it. Since we were about to lose this treasure, he was working on a cast so he could create a replica. It wouldn’t replace the original one, but it would at least allow us to have something left.

Since I wanted to bask in its presence as much as possible, I settled in Henry’s lab with my laptop, the sword right next to me. My eyes often wandered away from my screen to travel to it. Every time they did, bitter disappointment struck me.

It will pass , I told myself whenever rancor gained me.

I’d given up on receiving an apology text from Mr. Westergaard. If he felt any remorse, it didn’t seem that he would express it. However, I expected Mullins, or whoever he’d send, to tell us the sword had to be packed for its trip to Norway. Given the amount of money Mr. Westergaard had spent on it—which I could only imagine—he probably wanted to have it in his possession as soon as possible.

By the time we came back from our lunch break, I’d come to terms with it. As I’d told Mr. Westergaard, we didn’t always get what we wanted. And while it might not have applied for him, it did for me. In this instance, it didn’t matter how much I wanted it. It wasn’t mine to have. The sword and him.

At least, I wanted to tell myself that I was fine with it, that life wasn’t fair and it was okay. But when Mullins entered the lab, the bitterness I experienced proved that I was fooling myself. He noticed the sword right away, lying in all its splendor on the table next to me. Without a word aside from his greetings, he came toward it to admire it.

“It truly is a magnificent piece,” he noted after a moment.

“It is, yes. A shame it was all so…ephemeral.”

“That’s the reason I’m here for, actually.” Henry stopped working on his computer, his head popping to the side to pay attention to what the director would say. “Mr. Westergaard called me this morning to express that he was in no rush to have the sword sent to Norway. In fact, he insisted that we did so at some point during January’s first fortnight. Which means you two will get about two extra months to work on it.”

【18】Long Distance

Stunned.

I was entirely and irrevocably stunned.

Had I done this? Had our moment in the broom closet convinced him to show me some mercy by extending my time with the sword? It had never occurred to me that he wouldn’t want the sword immediately. Not with the way he’d come to London within hours of being forwarded my email. No, it was an urgent matter to him, a family thing, and he’d shown that he wanted the sword as much as I did.

All of this meant he’d done this for me. Because even if he couldn’t let go of the sword, I still mattered to some extent.

Mullins kept talking for a moment, but I could barely hear his voice, too shocked to pay attention. Was Mr. Westergaard trying to have both? To win me over by being clement? He’d shown his interest in me clearly enough, so I couldn’t doubt it. But this, his actions, proved it more than any of his sulfurous declarations could.

I regained some modicum of control when Mr. Mullins took his leave. I picked up my jaw and wished him a good afternoon.

Mr. Westergaard was leaving the sword in my care for two entire months, despite how much money he’d just spent on it…

My hand was shaking when I grabbed my phone, lying next to my laptop. I went to my call history and scrolled down, looking for the time he’d called me two evenings ago. Thinking that assuming I would need it might jinx everything, I hadn’t saved his number into my phone. I then spent a solid fifteen minutes trying to decide what I should send him. Was he even still in London? Had he left to return to his home country, to his estate?

Regardless of the answer, the number I had was Norwegian, so he’d get my message whether he was here or not. After much internal debate, I simply sent,

Thank you

, realizing how underwhelming it was. But he’d still bought the sword in the end, so his unexpected act of kindness didn’t compensate for everything .

The rest of my afternoon was spent jumping on my phone every time it buzzed next to me. I was eager to receive his reply, and maybe spark a conversation, to delay the moment we’d return to being strangers. Which we still were, since I barely knew the man. Alas, all the messages I received were from Gigi, who was bored at home, sending me memes and pictures of the cats acting like wildlings.

I was just getting home when it vibrated in my jeans’ back pocket. Since it wasn’t the messaging app I used with Gigi, I knew it was his answer the instant I saw the notification when I checked my phone. Everything I was holding was promptly dropped, and I unlocked it.

To my dismay, his answer echoed the tone of my original text—cold and distant.

You’re welcome

, he’d written.

My lips protruded in a pout as I stared at his reply, ignoring the cats chanting at my feet. I couldn’t blame him for being so curt, since I’d been that way myself. Part of me had expected him to be all charming and brash, as he’d been from the start. But there was no reason why he should always be the one making advances and working on exploring what this thing was between us.

I really appreciate it

, I sent. As soon as I pressed the button, I regretted replying so quickly. He’d made me wait hours, and here I was, answering him barely a minute after his text. Well, now it was done, and there was no point trying to be coy about it.

Could I make it up to you with dinner?

I boldly suggested. Although I barely ever cooked since Gigi always took charge, I wasn’t too bad at it, and I could whip up something for us if he agreed.

I was done feeding the beasts when he texted me back. Ah, at least he wouldn’t make me wait for hours every time.

I’m afraid not, Miss Connelly

. My heart hammered in my chest, deeply affected by his rejection. Was he annoyed with me because I’d managed to make him change his mind about the sword?

A man like him, so mighty and powerful, probably didn’t like being caught in a moment of weakness. Especially not over someone they’d just met. But between his curt reply and the fact that he’d taken forever to first get back to me, it seemed rather clear that something was wrong.

Remembering how blunt he’d been when he’d suspected the same of me, I decided to follow his example and not let things simmer, making assumptions that might be false.

Are you cross with me?

I typed. But while I was courageous enough to send it, I wasn’t looking forward to getting his reply. Which was why I went to the bathroom and endeavored to shower. That way, I wouldn’t have to check on my phone until I was done.

I was stark naked when the phone buzzed minutes later. Determined to give myself a little more time, in case his reply was hard to swallow, I ignored it and moved to the shower. It vibrated again before I was even in, and by the third one, I realized those weren’t texts. He was calling. Shit .

Impulsively, I reached for the phone before I could stop myself. I tapped on the green button and pressed the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“’Evening, Miss Connelly. I’m sorry you thought I might be cross with you.” He paused for a few seconds. “I can assure you I’m not.” His suave voice in my ear warmed my bare skin, reminding me I was utterly naked at the moment.

“Are you sure?” I insisted.

“Why would I be cross with you?” He sounded genuinely curious.

I hesitated, regretting having even said a thing. But the man was always extremely forward with me, so I shouldn’t feel weird for returning him the favor. I pressed an arm across my naked chest, as if it could help with my discomfort. “Because you took six hours to reply to my text, and now you won’t have dinner with me.”

I heard him chuckle, and then some kind of low, frustrated groan. “It’s not my style to play those mind games. I was on a plane, love.” My heart tightened at the thought that he was back in Norway already. “As for dinner, I’d love to join you, but I’m a little too far for that.”

“Are you back in your homeland?”

“No, I’m in your homeland. An urgent matter I need to handle in New York.”

“Wow, really?”

“Really.” The sound of cars, as well as a very recognizable cop siren, suddenly echoed, as if he’d opened a window. It slowly faded as he closed it again. “I’m still on my way from the airport to the hotel. What about you? Are you home and done with your day?” I gazed up at the mirror, looking at my naked reflection. He’d go mad if he knew I was talking to him like this, wouldn’t he?

Instead of staying there, I returned to my bedroom and sat on my bed. “Yes, I arrived ten minutes ago. I was about to hop in the shower.”

“How are the cats?” he asked after a short pause.

“Still their mischievous selves.”

“I’ll be back in London tomorrow evening. If your dinner invitation still stands, I’d love to see them again.” I lay back, a soft fingertip caressing my collarbone as I stared at the ceiling.

“Just the cats?” My playful smile was so wide, I was certain he could hear it.

“I’ll be bluntly honest and admit I couldn’t care less about the cats.”

His admission delighted me, even though I’d expected it. My hand lowered, the tip of my finger following an invisible line all the way to my navel. “I’ll let you know if you’re still welcome by then.”

He chuckled again, the sound causing my skin to prickle. “I’ll try to behave, then, so I’m not uninvited. By the way, my offer to let you borrow from my collection still stands. Whatever you need for your exhibit.”

“For real?”

“Yes. I already mentioned it to Mullins, who didn’t seem opposed to it. On the contrary, he said it would be an honor.”

“I’ll think about it, Mr. Westergaard.”

“Ulrik. And please, do. I’m returning to Trondheim on Monday morning, so it would be great if you could decide before then.”

“I’ll give it the weekend and let you know. Now, I’m sorry to be cutting this short, but I need to return to my shower. I’ll catch my death waiting naked like this.”

Utter silence answered my admission, and I bit down on my lips to hold back from laughing. God, men were so easy to trigger.

“Are you—”

“Get me Flamin’ Hot Cheetos™ if you have the chance,” I interrupted him, highly entertained. “And I hope your urgent matter won’t be too much of a hassle.”

“Mila, wait a damn—”

“Enjoy your afternoon, Mr. Westergaard.”

With that, I hung up, feeling like an absolute tease. It felt so good to be desired, especially by a man like him. I’d barely had time to flirt like this in my life, too busy with my studies and work. I’d had boyfriends, I’d had flings, one-night stands… I’d started rather early in middle school, even. But this felt new; two grown adults consumed by chemistry, terribly tempted by the idea of fucking each other but playing with it first.

The phone buzzed on my chest, and when I checked, I saw he’d texted me.

You’re the only hassle in my life right now, Miss Connelly.

Maybe I could make up for it with a picture?

That would most certainly help, yes.

Look at you, replying in twenty seconds and not six hours… I see where your priorities lie, Mr. Westergaard.

I was on a plane.

I pinched my lips together, trying to imagine his state right now.

Serves you right for not letting me know you were leaving the country. See you on Sunday, sir.

As I showered, it struck me just how versatile my emotions were about this man. I’d been angry with him the day before, cursing myself for being fooled by his irresistible charm and blue eyes. Earlier today, I’d been conflicted about what to do with him, but still determined to keep some distance. He’d chosen the sword over me, possibly because of some cocky assumption that he could have both, that I wouldn’t be able to resist him. And I was proving him right, completely disregarding my honor or dignity.

But as soon as I’d heard the low pitch of his voice, all those thoughts had flown out the window. Flirting with him felt like second nature, something as easy and unavoidable as breathing. I held no control over myself where Ulrik Westergaard was concerned, and it was scary. Terrifying, even.

I didn’t want anything serious with him, but I’d also never clicked so well with anyone before. We’d met mere days ago, but our comfort level resembled that of two people who’d known each other for months. We’d just spoken, but I already wanted more, wanted to call him back, to hear his voice. I felt like a teenager, completely ruled by my hormones and desires.

And the worst part about it was that I had absolutely no clue what his intentions were toward me. Yes, he wanted to fuck me. Badly. And probably repeat it a few times, for several hours at a time. But could he want…more than that?

The issue was that even if he did, I hardly saw how that could work without having to compromise some important aspect of my life. As it was, I already craved the man to unfathomable extents, so there was no way that long distance could satisfy me. But I also refused to leave my job, not when I’d been so blessed to get it in the first place. So, what? Did it mean he’d have to leave his estate and come live here in London?

Damn, I was getting way ahead of myself.

What I needed was to control myself around him, to slow down my horses, and to take it one day at a time. And I also had to remember that the man was a stranger, regardless of the chemistry between us. He might have some pet peeves I’d hate, and vice versa.

When I came out of the shower, I forced myself not to check on my phone right away. Instead, I slipped on some comfy clothes, brushed my hair, and did my short but efficient skincare routine. Once I was out of things to do, I took my phone and unlocked it. He hadn’t replied, and I doubted he would by now.

The rest of my evening was spent on the couch with that orca documentary on the TV—finally. I’d also brought home some work with me, so I distractedly watched it while being on my tablet. That did wonders to distract me from the thought of him.

I couldn’t believe I’d put myself in a situation where I might botch the very first exhibit I’d curate. I now felt entrapped by the theme, which I’d thought was such a great idea at first. But even if it still was, no one would care about an exhibition that was mostly texts on panels. There needed to be more items to illustrate what I wanted people to learn. And it didn’t even have to be artifacts owned by legendary heroes—that was impossible to find or authenticate. I just needed some stunning pieces that would represent how rich the Old Norse culture really had been, how weapons used to be, what treasures Vikings sought…

And those, while they existed, were out of my grasp, already being used for other expositions. In the end, if I hoped to salvage all the work I’d done so far, and not have to improvise an entirely new exhibit, I might have no other choice but to accept Mr. Westergaard’s offer.

If his collection was as large and proficient as he claimed, then exploring it would bring me satisfaction. Lots of it…

【19】They’re All Trash

On Saturday morning, we went to a flea market. Gigi loved those, always looking for things for our apartment or for her restaurant. As for myself, I enjoyed browsing through the antiques, trying to figure out which item was the oldest, which one should hold the most value—a fact that was often unbeknownst to its seller.

I hadn’t told her about the guest I might be having that very evening, for fear she would overreact. But she would be at work the entire time, so unless things went very well and he stayed the night, she probably wouldn’t know until I wanted her to.

There I was, already anticipating that he might end up in my bed, when I’d promised myself I’d slow down… Gigi was right. I needed more than silicon and batteries, and my body was craving the real thing. And especially for his real thing.

She left a little earlier than usual, to buy a few groceries they needed at the restaurant. As soon as the door was closed, I went to the kitchen to inspect the content of our well-supplied fridge. A few ideas came to me already, and I wondered which one would be best. We hadn’t convened on a specific time, but I most likely had two hours ahead of me. One to cook, and one to get ready.

Before I began, I grabbed my phone to shoot him a text.

Any allergies I should know about?

I sent before taking a Korean face mask from the fridge’s door and heading to the bathroom.

I was done cleaning my face when his reply came in. The broad smile on my face quickly vanished when I read it.

Sorry, Miss Connelly, but I can’t make it.

My heart twinged at the thought that I wouldn’t see him tonight after all.

Is everything okay?

I sent.

Unsure what to do with myself now that my evening plans had been canceled, I returned to the common room and sat on the couch, a frown lingering on my brows.

He took nearly ten minutes to text me again.

I got held up in New York.

Are you still there?

Yes.

My earlier disappointment turned into confusion. It took over seven hours to travel from New York to here. That meant he’d known for hours that our dinner plans had to be canceled. But he hadn’t warned me, for some reason.

Willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, I texted him,

Why didn’t you warn me sooner?

I hesitated on adding that I’d been looking forward to seeing him again, but decided that such an admission would depend on his answer.

It slipped my mind.

Those four words felt like a stab in the chest. Ever since our phone call, I’d been eagerly awaiting his return, impatient to welcome him into my home and cook for him, desirous to learn more about him and spend time with him. But while I’d been jittery and excited, he’d forgotten about it, to the point where he’d known for at least six hours that he wouldn’t make it, but hadn’t had the decency to warn me.

How could this man do everything right one moment, and then everything wrong the next? And what was his true face? The charming man who granted me two extra months with the sword, flirted with me unabashedly, took me out for lunch and dinner… Or the egotistical man who bought a sword despite my pleading, canceled plans hours too late, and asked my boss for personal information.

More than ever, I was realizing that I didn’t truly know who Ulrik Westergaard was. He could be either those men and the rest was a fluke, or maybe he was both those men, but in what percentage?

Part of me wanted to figure out the answer and give him one last chance to see who he was, which man lay underneath his perfect facade. I felt weak, physically, mentally, and emotionally as I typed my next text.

When will you be back in London?

Just how pathetic must I be to still want to see him? As an optimistic person, I always tried my hardest to see the best in people. Right then, it was hard to see the positive in him, but I suspected it was in there, somewhere. I just had to dig more to know exactly how much good there was, and how much bad counterbalanced it.

Simone came on my lap as I waited for his reply, and I welcomed the distraction. Slim was sleeping on my bed in the last ray of sun that came through the window, Max was playing with a feather toy, and Donald was sitting on a wooden console, staring right at the wall four inches away from him.

I’d never minded having cats, ever, but as I looked at them while waiting for his text, I wondered if this was the reason why I’d always had them in my life. Maybe I was destined to be a disgruntled spinster, a crazy cat lady whose pets gave life meaning.

“You’d text me back real quick, wouldn’t you?” I asked Simone. She let out a purry meow, as if to approve. “Of course you would. Because you’re a decent person, and I deserve at least that.”

My phone buzzed, and I unlocked it warily.

I won’t be. I’ll fly straight to Trondheim when I’m done here.

That reinforced the aching in my chest. So, after everything, that was it? All the flirting, all the chemistry, the meet-ups… All of that led to this disappointing and unexpected ending.

I was feeling hurt in my pride, in disbelief that after all, Ulrik Westergaard was all talk. And I was stupid for falling for it. I’d done nothing on my end to deserve those short and harsh replies, nothing that could explain why he was suddenly done with me. Had he scratched the itch I’d triggered with another woman? Maybe he’d just been sex starved, which explained why he’d been so adamant about getting into bed with me, but now he’d solved that problem.

In my anger against him, I was tempted to call him and ask what was his problem. I was aching to do just that, to understand what had happened. So, before I could make an even bigger fool of myself, I headed to my room and changed into my running clothes. When I came out, there was still no answer from him. No explanation, no apology, no offer to reschedule…

Fuck men, and fuck this man in particular.

With loud music that matched my angered mood, I ran until my thighs burned and my lungs felt like they were about to collapse. I ran as far as I could, so much so that when my body gave up, I was stranded miles away from home. I couldn’t even walk back there, so I took out my phone to order a car. Sitting on the backseat drenched in sweat didn’t feel right, so I tipped the man handsomely.

Gigi came home a little before midnight, which was later than usual. After she’d dropped her things, she sat down on the couch next to me, where I was watching some preposterous British reality TV show, eating chips and drinking a bottle of white wine from the neck. Showered and in my pajamas, I was holding my knees against my chest, holding the bottle in one hand.

“Did you go to the pub with your team?” I asked, recognizing the smell lingering on her clothes.

“Yeah, offered them a round of beers. I wanted to go out. Still do, actually.”

I thought about it as I kept my eyes on the screen, distractedly watching the two fake blondes with fake nails, fake boobs, and fake lips yell at each other in a barely understandable Cockney accent. This wasn’t helping take my mind off Ulrik Westergaard. Neither had the run, nor was the bottle of wine, which I had bought in anticipation of my dinner with him. I was over halfway through it.

Maybe going out would do a better job at this. Especially with Gigi. She was a party beast, and I knew we’d have a lot of fun out there.

“Let’s,” I suggested.

“Go out, you mean?”

“Yeah, let’s hit the clubs. It’s been forever.”

“Not for me, it hasn’t. Are you sure, though? It’s way past your bedtime,” she teased.

“I am. I want to dress slutty, drive men mad, and then reject them because they’re all trash.”

She observed me for a moment, analyzing my profile. “What has your sexy Viking done this time?”

“He is an asshole. And I’m stupid for not seeing it sooner.”

“You’re many things, Jamila Connelly, but stupid isn’t one of them.”

Still curled into a ball, I rested my temple on my knee to look at her with a thankful smile. “I was this time. I thought he really liked me. But he just wanted to blow his load when I was projecting myself way ahead of that.”

“I’m sorry, sweets. Men are binary creatures programmed to fuck, and most of them don’t seem to be able to do more than that.”

“I thought this one was different.”

“I know, babe. Alright, let’s give ourselves half an hour to get ready, and then we go out and break some hearts.”

I nodded, releasing my knees to set my feet on the carpet. Time to seek some validation from men and feel desired. It wouldn’t fix my bruised ego, but it would help.

Thirty-seven minutes later, I came out of my room with a face full of makeup, black stilettos, and the skimpiest dress I owned. It was a flimsy little number that looked like melted silver, which slid on my body like a liquid, with a deep cleavage, an exposed back, and a short skirt. It wasn’t a tight fit, so I risked exposing my boobs with the wrong move. But fuck that.

Gigi was already in the living room, doing some touch-ups on her mascara. She’d decided on a neon blue dress that did wonders for her brown skin and tightly hugged each of her generous curves. It was as short as mine, but it had a turtleneck and sleeves. It was a little see-through, though, but she had slipped on a matching bodysuit underneath.

“Looking hot, miss Khan.”

“You’re one to talk. I might take you home tonight,” she joked.

“Oh, God, please do. I don’t want to end up in some weird guy’s apartment. Please make sure we both get home.”

“Of course, sweets. Can’t afford to lose you to some psycho killer. Couldn’t make rent without you.”

I laughed incredulously at her teasing.

Twenty minutes later, we were exiting a cab and walking up to the club we usually favored, hearing the music from around the corner. The air was chilly, but we wouldn’t be out here for long. Gigi had dated the bouncer’s sister for a bit, and since things had ended well, he usually let us in. Luckily, he was the one working tonight, so we skipped the long line of awaiting party-goers and headed straight to him. He approved us with a nod, and his colleague opened the rope barrier. We thanked him as we walked in, ignoring the protests of the ones in line.

The loud music intensified as we made our way into the club. I could sense the low bass vibrate in my chest, smell the familiar mix of sweat, perfume, and spilled alcohol, and feel the heat of the bodies surrounding us. I hadn’t been out like this in nearly six months, and it felt good to be here. I felt like a young woman again, which I often forgot I was given my work. Everyone was older than me at the museum, and my dedication to my studies and job had always taken over the fun things one’s supposed to experience in their youth.

Tonight, I’d make up for all that, and forget about Ulrik Westergaard in the same go.

【20】Sh*t-Faced

Since it was nearly one in the morning, we started with three shots of vodka each, to catch up with everyone else in there. It was only when I’d swallowed the last one that I wondered if it was such a good idea. I’d barely eaten tonight, half a bag of chips and some olives, so alcohol might work much faster than usual.

It did, but by the time it kicked in, we were in the middle of the pit, dancing our hearts out to the catchy tunes. The lights were flashing, the music was blasting, and my head was spinning. But I had my Gigi with me, and she acted like my anchor, my lighthouse. We danced until our feet hurt, sometimes together, sometimes with others… I ended up sandwiched between two men at some point, their hands holding me by the hips and waist, and I’d reveled in the moment. The dashing Mr. Westergaard might not want me, but many others did. I was worth wanting.

When the one in the front bent to take my lips, slowly enough for me to refuse, I didn’t fight it, welcoming the gesture, even. Bold, he slipped his tongue into my mouth, and I answered with matching intensity, sampling whatever drink he’d had earlier. He was attractive, with soft features, lightly tanned skin, and curly dark hair. But to be fair, everyone was relatively alluring at this point. The man behind me left, probably deciding he’d lost this one, and I remained with the front guy for a few more minutes, kissing and dancing, vaguely enjoying the touch of his hands on my ass and back.

It was Gigi who pulled me out of his arms, gesturing that she wanted a drink. Damn, she was right. I was parched. I left the man without a look behind as we made our way to the bar again. It took a moment to get the bartender’s attention, but when we did, Gigi ordered us Jägerbombs, as well as another shot of vodka each.

I watched as the person prepared it, realizing I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. Was I so far gone, or was this person’s style androgynous and gender-neutral? The short hair and masculine clothes were countered by plump lips and feminine traits, their black shirt too baggy to guess the shapes beneath.

“Do you two want a glass of water?” they offered once we’d downed our drinks. Even their voice was unreadable.

“Nah, we’re here to get shitfaced,” Gigi countered.

I stumbled on my feet even though no one had bumped into me, and the bartender raised a skeptical brow at me. “Maybe one for her?”

Gigi turned to me with inquisitive eyes, trying to gauge how far gone I was already. I did my best to hide that the answer was “very far.” The night was only just starting. I didn’t want her to become a party pooper already.

“Do you need water, sweets?” she shouted into my ear.

“No, I’m not thirsty.”

“You sure?” I nodded with determination, and she turned to the bartender again. “We’re good.” They raised their hands in rendition and moved on to other customers.

She held my wrist and pulled me behind her, taking me back to the dance floor. The hot guy from before was still there, but dancing with another woman. It didn’t matter, though, because a new guy quickly replaced him.

Damn, men were actually so easy to get. What was the point of getting hung up on one of them? There was plenty of fish in the sea, and I was like a fish magnet in this dress.

Fuck

Ulrik Westergaard.

I completely lost track of time, barely noticing the songs changing from one to another. When the guy grew too enterprising, trying to slip a hand under my dress, I shoved him away harshly, calling him a pervert. Gigi came to my aid when he insisted. True to her fiery self, she threatened to gouge his eyeballs out. That was when the first guy came back, and we resumed our earlier making out and dancing.

“I need to pee,” I shouted in his ear several songs later, my bladder no match for the wine, vodka, and Jägerbomb.

“Do you want me to come with?”

“No, stay here. I’ll be back.” He nodded, and right before I left, I pulled him down for one last kiss, hoping it would convince him to wait for me. I liked this one; he knew boundaries, and he danced and kissed very well.

On my way there, I spotted Gigi by the bar. She’d been there for a while now, and I hoped she wasn’t being too carefree. I definitely wasn’t going to be the reasonable one, so she had to limit her alcohol intake.

The line for the ladies’ was so fucking long, I knew I wouldn’t make it in time. Instead, I headed for the men’s, judging there was less shame in that than in peeing myself. The few guys in there gave me side glances as I entered, but I ignored them, as well as the rancid smell of pee, and headed to a stall. I locked myself in it, thanked God that the toilet paper wasn’t empty, and did my best to pee crouching over the toilet bowl—a very hard feat with my heels and alcohol intake.

It was mostly different men when I came out, and that meant a new batch of judging looks. I was washing my hands when one of them decided to say something. He looked even drunker than I was, in his mid-forties, and given his suit, he probably was a lawyer or a trader, here to blow off some steam after a long day of work.

“Hiding a cock under that pretty dress, are we? Or maybe you’re in here looking for a proper one to spend the night with?”

“I actually have a massive dick,” I countered, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “And like, two enormous balls to go with. Why? You wanna gag on it?”

His hand seized my arm, unamused by my tone. “Are you taking the piss, you fucking slag?”

As a child, I’d never been into the typical girl activities. All that horse or ballet stuff had been the least of my concerns. No, I’d taken Karate classes, and later on, Krav Maga. So, technically, I knew how to fend off that prick even though I hadn’t practiced in a while. But right this instant, I wasn’t trusting my balance enough to be sure I could grab his hand holding me and twist it so he’d be bent over in pain while I held his arm up high. That asshole deserved it, though, so I might try.

I opened my mouth to tell the prick I’d already pissed and he needed to pay attention when another man came to my rescue. “Come on, mate, leave her be. You’ve seen the line for the ladies’.” The asshole gave me a deadly glare in the mirror before releasing my arm.

Unfazed, I finished washing my hands and adjusted my makeup the best I could, given the poor lighting. Damn, I looked hot. I’d felt that way upon leaving the apartment already, but there was something right now that made me look wild and oh-so-fuckable. Maybe the slightly messed up hair or the glassy eyes.

Why didn’t he want me anymore?

Without even thinking about it, I took out my phone from my tiny purse and unlocked it.

I look so.hot rn

I sent. Just to prove that I wasn’t lying, I took a quick picture of my reflection, holding my phone to the side so I could look into the camera, posing languorously with my hip to the side.

“Do I look hot in this?” I asked a man who was washing his hands next to me, shoving my phone in front of his eyes.

“Uh… I don’t know. I have a girlfriend.”

“Love hasn’t literally made you blind, has it? Just tell me, please. I need to make a man jealous.”

“Hmm…” He looked at the pic, squinting his eyes. “I guess you do?”

“Thanks, dude.” Glad to have it approved, I hit Send on the picture.

I bet youre regreting still being in ny

, I sent next.

Then, I put my phone away and exited the restroom. The stale air of the club was much better, but still not perfect. I didn’t regret my decision as I passed the line of women waiting for their turn. Why was it that they never built enough toilets for us?

I was nearly reaching the end of the corridor when I felt my bag vibrate against my hip. I fought against the clutch to retrieve my phone, and then grimaced when I saw the name on the screen. Still, I picked up.

“What?” I replied with murder in my voice.

“Was that the men’s lavatory?” Ugh… How was it even possible to miss the voice of someone I barely knew?

“Yeah, why?”

“Are you alright?” he asked, having the nerve to actually sound concerned.

“I’m having the time of my life.”

“Alone?”

“No, there are plenty of people here.” What a stupid question…

“I meant are you out alone?”

“Oh… No, I’m with Gigi. And this guy, I guess. I need to get back to him.”

“Have you had water?”

“I don’t want water right now. I think I want another shot of vodka, actually.” Yes, that sounded good. And then maybe a few others, until I forgot what his voice sounded like.

“Have a glass of water instead,” he commanded.

“Who do you think you are to give me orders like this? You stood me up, remember?” I was so done with this man and his mood switches.

“Mila, you need to—”

“No, don’t ‘Mila’ me. You had your shot, several, actually, and you botched it. So now I’m having fun dancing instead of having dinner with you. Half the guys in here would jump on the opportunity to have sex with me anyway, so there’s no need for you in the end.” My voice was uneven, but I couldn’t tell if it was the emotions raging inside me or the booze altering my speech.

It hit me that there was one thing that I needed from him. “Actually, you’re not completely useless. I will take you up on that offer to borrow from your collection.”

He took suspiciously too long to answer. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes. I need to make up for the fact that you’re taking my sword away, or my exhibit will suck.”

From now on, our relationship would remain strictly professional. That enigmatic spark between us hadn’t worked out, but it didn’t mean I should burn all bridges just yet. If not himself, he had things to offer, things I needed career-wise. Since he’d promised I could borrow anything from his collection, I’d make sure to borrow his best pieces, robbing him of them for two and a half years. I was feeling particularly petty, which wasn’t an emotion I usually experienced.

“Let me know if you change your mind in the morning,” he offered. “Otherwise, I will arrange everything.”

“Great.”

Silence stretched between us, filled by the club’s rhythmic music. I couldn’t hear a thing from his side, so I wondered if he was back at his hotel and ready to sleep. What was 4 a.m. minus five hours?

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” he asked.

“I’m not yours to worry about.”

Another silence, another moment for my thoughts to take over. That guy waiting for me was handsome and kissed well, but I’d have given anything to have the one on the other end of this phone call instead.

“Ulrik?” I called, unsure if he was still there since I suddenly felt so terribly alone.

“Yes?”

“I really wish you weren’t such a dick.”

He let out a small humorless chuckle, and I could almost visualize him shaking his head. “Me too, love… Me too…”

His answer made something ache in my chest, the reminder that there also was some good in him. Since I didn’t know what else to say, I just hung up and put my phone back in my bag.

A professional relationship with him sounded like an acceptable goal. He’d keep living on the other side of the North Sea, I’d stay right here, and we’d interact as little as needed—only when my work required it.

Romance wasn’t in the cards for us, and the sooner I’d get over it, the better. What I needed was something easy, uncomplicated, and attainable—so, literally every other guy in here. Luckily for me, there was a handsome stranger on the dance floor, hopefully still waiting for me.

He’d have to do.

【21】Out of Control

Nothing felt familiar when I woke up the next day, to the point where even my mattress seemed foreign. But it was indeed my sheets, my bed, and my room. The masculine body next to me, though, wasn’t mine.

My curtains were drawn, but they were thin enough to allow the daylight inside. So, warily, I forced my eyes to open and glimpsed at the man beside me. The relief I felt upon seeing his dark and curly hair was short-lived. I hadn’t planned on ending the night with anyone, but it seemed my post-breakup hoe phase had decided otherwise.

And I hadn’t even gone through a breakup, which made things even more pathetic…

The man had his face turned toward me, sleeping soundly with a slight snore, and I vaguely recognized him from the club. We’d danced, kissed, and then… I couldn’t remember anything else. But I must have brought him back here, because we were both naked in my bed.

I tried to sit up, only to be humbled by the pulsing pain in my skull. The hell had I done the evening before?!

My phone wasn’t on the nightstand, where I usually left it, but I spotted it on the floor by the bed’s foot. Remaining in bed, I stretched to grab it, holding back a groan of pain. I grimaced when I saw it had 3 percent battery left, and then noticed the time. It was nearly noon already. I plugged it and put it on my nightstand, worried it might die on me.

With a wary peer at the man whose name I couldn’t even remember, I pushed the cover away and stood. Buck naked, I tiptoed to the bathroom, grabbing a T-shirt and shorts in my closet as I passed by it. The used condom in the trash can reassured me, but I still felt weird upon seeing it. I didn’t feel bad about it happening, but I didn’t like not remembering any of it. I smelled dirty and felt even worse, so I didn’t waste any time hopping into the shower after locking the doors.

As the hot water flowed down my body-sore from the hangover and the run right before our outing-I tried to fill out the gaps that were missing. And there were a lot of gaps.

Also, why did I remember Mr. Westergaard being a part of it?

When some of it came back to me, I froze, absolutely horrified. No, I must be remembering it wrong… Much quicker than I’d been up to this point, I showered and shampooed in a blink before jumping out of the stall. Once I was dried and dressed, I returned to my bedroom, doing my best to be utterly silent.

I retrieved my barely charged phone from the nightstand and stood by the door. Terrified to discover if my vague memories were true, I opened my messages. Oh, shit… I had sent him the most cringe texts ever, full of errors, as well as a mortifying picture of me in the men’s bathroom.

Shame crawled under my skin, crawling its way deep into my chest. I was never touching alcohol ever again. What the hell…

It got even worse when I realized he’d also called me, and we’d spoken for over five minutes. I could barely remember any of it, aside from small snippets here and there. Like me calling him a dick.

The man in my bed twisted in his sleep, reminding me that I had more than one reason to become sober. Once I was sure he wasn’t awake, I sashayed to the living room. There, I found Gigi actively cooking something in the kitchen, as well as someone vaguely familiar sitting on our couch. They both turned my way and waved at me.

“You’re the bartender,” I recalled. Even with their light makeup off, they had very delicate traits, which were contradicted by an angular jawline. It was as though they were born to become androgynous, the perfect mix of the two hetero-normative genders. They were stunning, with the best of both worlds, which I’d failed to notice the evening before.

“Aye, I’m Vick.” They extended their hand at me and I shook it. Their grip was firm and their skin soft.

I sat next to them with a sigh, only remembering then that I needed something for my headache. “Next time, force that water down my throat, please,” I told them.

“Everything good?” There was something laid-back about them that put me at ease, as if I’d known them for a while.

“My head’s killing me, and my pride could use some fixing, too.”

“Here you go, sweets,” Gigi said as she set a tray with scrambled eggs, toast, coffee, and a tall glass of water on the table. There was even a pill for my head, so I mouthed a “Thank you” and brought my hands together in appreciation. “What happened to your pride?” she asked, sitting on the armchair opposite us.

“You know when you get so drunk you start sending texts to your ex?” I asked, taking the pill and swallowing it with some coffee.

“Oh God, please tell me you didn’t send anything to Everest.”

“No. I did even better than that. I sent them to a man who’s not even my ex in any shape or form.”

Her jaw dropped dramatically. “Tell me it’s not who I think it is.” I nodded with a wince. “You texted Ulrik?!”

I nodded again.

She stared at me for ten full seconds, her eyes so huge I could see the entirety of her dark irises. Eventually, she exploded in a fit of loud, incredulous, and hysterical laughter. “Tell me you didn’t,” she almost screamed as she laughed.

Vick was understandably confused, trying to figure out what was going on. Gigi was too far gone to explain, though, and I didn’t feel like adding to my shame by confessing everything to them.

“I’m glad to see my misery brings you so much hilarity.”

“Mila, what the hell?! What has this man done to you?!”

I pouted, offended. “I don’t know. Now, shut up before you wake up…” I tried really hard to remember what the name of the man in my room was, but failed. I pointed at my door with a thumb. “Does anyone remember his name?”

“I feel like a proud mama right now,” she approved with a laugh. “It was something like Lance, no?”

“I think it was Keith,” Vick countered.

“You really don’t remember much, do you?”

I shook my head at Gigi with a frown. “Couldn’t even tell you if he was a good lay or not.”

“Well, you seemed to be having a good time,” Vick explained, completely unembarrassed.

“Oh, no. Drunk-Mila likes to put on a show, so that means nothing,” Gigi explained, causing my face to warm up even more. “And it lasted no more than ten minutes, so not that great a performance.”

“Yeah, I probably didn’t come, then,” I admitted.

Just then, my door opened. All three of us shut up, turning to it instead. Wearing nothing but black boxers, Lance-maybe-Keith came out of there with a yawn. He greeted everyone with a smile when he joined us, and then picked up the coffee on my tray.

He swallowed a mouthful of it and grimaced. “Christ, that’s strong.”

Setting it down again, he headed to the kitchen, apparently very comfortable with his partial nudity. Well, he had a very toned body, one he clearly worked hard for, so that made sense. When he opened the fridge and bent to inspect its content, Gigi raised a disbelieving hand and her face frowned with incredulity. The woman hated strangers in her kitchen.

“Do you have anything with electrolytes?” he asked, turning our way but not looking at us.

“I don’t think so, no,” I replied. He settled on orange juice instead, and I raised an eyebrow when he drank it right from the bottle.

“So, the train is in an hour. Maybe we should get ready to leave,” Vick declared out of nowhere.

It took us a moment to get where they were going with this, but when it happened, we both clicked at the same time. “Right. Sorry to be throwing you out…uh…man, but we’ve got to head out soon,” Gigi loudly told the guy actively raiding our kitchen.

“Yeah, no problem, mate.” He’d found my cookies and opened the wrapping to bite on one. “Do I have time to shower?”

“If you make it quick, yeah.”

“Alright, thanks, mate.”

He disappeared into my room again, and we exchanged confused glances. “Do you think he believes this is more than a one-night stand?” I asked, legitimately wondering what was up with all his casual confidence.

“He surely feels at home alright. Maybe you proposed, to forget about your hot Viking?”

I gave Gigi an unimpressed glare. “I’m sure he was aware this was just a one-time thing.”

“You don’t even remember his name, so how would you remember that? Did you even talk to him back at the club?”

The only exchange I could remember was when I’d told him I needed to pee, so I wasn’t sure we actually had spoken of anything. I was still trying to remember when he came back, dressed in his white shirt and dark jeans, a leather jacket thrown over his arm. He was an attractive man, but at the moment, that did nothing at all for me.

He came to the coffee table again, and, using my fork, he ate a generous serving of my scrambled eggs. Still chewing, he met my eyes. “Listen, it was a lot of fun last night, but… I’m just out of a four-year relationship. I don’t think I’m ready for anything serious yet,” he gravely said. There was no way to tell if this was true or just his go-to line for one-night stands. Regardless, it reassured me that I wouldn’t be the one clearing things up.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you more than a briefly lived slice of paradise,” he continued. Gigi let out a snort, clearly mocking, and I pressed my lips together to hold mine back.

For a man who most likely hadn’t even given me an orgasm, and whose name I couldn’t remember to save my life, he was quite confident…

“I get it, don’t worry,” I replied in the same very formal manner. “It’ll be hard, but I’ll get over you eventually…”

After a short instant of self-introspection, he bent my way to press a goodbye kiss on my lips. I’d have recoiled if my reflexes hadn’t been shit at the moment, and if he hadn’t slipped a hand on the back of my head. I was very weirded out when he released me.

“Maybe we’ll meet again,” he suggested right before taking more of my eggs.

Probably not, I thought to myself.

We watched him leave, and as soon as the door was closed, we all let out a long sigh. “So, I guess we’ll never know what’s his name for sure,” Vick said first, vaguely disappointed.

“I can’t believe that with all your options, you took that one home,” Gigi teased.

“He was a good kisser.”

“Maybe your problem is that you fancy the wrong kind of men.” I flipped her off, hoping she wouldn’t bring up that incident too much in the future.

But given the last…four or five men I’d been romantically or sexually involved with, she might be onto something. Everest had been a narcissistic prick, the one shortly before him hadn’t been great either, and what’s-his-face just now had been very oblivious and cocky.

As for Mr. Westergaard… I was still trying to figure out what to make of him. He wasn’t like those other men, I was certain of that. But his recent actions weren’t screaming “good guy” either…

With the pattern Gigi had just mentioned, I might have to accept that he was, indeed, an asshole like the rest of them.

But what a shame it was.

【22】Big Girl Pants

Vick stayed with us part of the afternoon and then left to get their fill of rest. It was clear that Gigi liked them, but it was my understanding that nothing had happened between them. Vick had come home with us, and they’d spent the night talking and reinventing the world from our couch. It was unlike Gigi to be so platonic with someone she brought home, so I figured she really liked Vick.

We were comatose on the couch when my phone buzzed on the table. After I’d failed to retrieve it with a whimper, Gigi rolled her eyes and grabbed it for me. I cringed hard upon seeing it was a text from Mr. Westergaard. Crap, I still couldn’t recall what we’d spoken of during our phone call.

I opened the message, praying to God that it wasn’t going to bring more confusion and shame.

So, have you changed your mind?

“About what?” Gigi asked, having read the text as well.

“I have no idea. We spoke on the phone yesterday, but I don’t know what we said.”

The phone vibrated again, and that new text brought some more clarity.

I’ll have to make a few arrangements if you still want to browse through my collection, so let me know as soon as you decide.

“Oh… I guess we spoke about him lending me some of his stuff for my exhibit.”

“That’s still on the table?”

“Looks like it. I don’t know what to do, though. It feels weird after…last night.”

“It doesn’t have to be, sweets. It can be a professional thing, unrelated to your personal history.”

With a sigh, I lay down on the couch, my temple resting on her thigh as I absentmindedly stared at the show unfolding on the TV. She began brushing my hair with her fingers, which appeased the remnants of my headache.

“I really need to borrow from someone, or my exhibit will be very underwhelming,” I explained. “I contacted two of the most prominent Viking museums in the country, but they didn’t have much to offer.”

“And you think Ulrik’s private collection will?”

“I believe so, yeah.”

“Then do it. Take his offer, make it clear that it’ll be strictly professional, and make your very first exhibit something to be remembered. After the way he’s been acting, it shouldn’t be too hard to keep him at bay.”

She was right, and even though I already knew all that, it was helpful to hear it laid out like this. Things didn’t have to be complicated. And I might actually end up dealing with whoever handled his collection more than with him. They’d send me the inventory list, I’d pick what I needed, and then, after a few contracts had been signed, they’d send it all over.

It could all be very clean, simple, and efficient. But most importantly, it could save the first gallery I was curating from being an absolute fiasco.

Determined to be the bigger woman and not let our weird history come in the way, I typed my reply to him.

Still a go on my side. I’ll need to pick the items as quickly as possible, so I have enough time to incorporate everything into the exhibition by January. Keep me updated on how things are looking on your end.

Now, all I needed to do was to remember that, despite his charming facade, Ulrik Westergaard was a dick. I was too strong a woman to fall for it again, too clever to forget.

He was now in my private life’s past and in my work life’s future. And while the personal side of things had proven severely disappointing, I suspected the professional one would be a lot more lucrative.

By Monday, I had recuperated from my night out, fresh and well-rested. Other than a text to confirm he would do what was needed for the loan, I hadn’t gotten any news from Mr. Westergaard. From my experience, these proceedings could take a while, so I had to be patient about it.

Because of that, when Mr. Mullins asked for me, I figured it was over a different matter. It was weird how I’d barely ever interacted with the museum’s director before, but I was now seeing him every other day.

His secretary allowed me to go in, and after he’d shaken my hand, he invited me to sit.

“So, it is my understanding that we’ll be borrowing items from Mr. Westergaard’s collection,” he declared, surprising me. It seemed Mr. Westergaard worked fast, after all.

“Yes, he’s agreed to loan us all the pieces I might need. For the duration of the exhibit I’m working on, plus extensions if needed.”

“That’s what he explained in his email, yes. The legal team is already working on the contracts, to adjust the terms of our standard template to match. He also mentioned it was rather urgent on your side, so he’s willing to give you access to the collection before the contracts have been fully drafted and signed, in an effort to save you some time.”

“That’s very considerate of him,” I conceded. “I can start working on it as soon as needed—the rest can be put on hold.”

“Perfect. Since the Westergaard collection isn’t well documented, he expressed it might take you over a week to go through all the items.”

Damn… He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said his collection was gigantic. A week to go over everything? It was more than what I’d need to go over all the Viking pieces we had in the archive rooms here.

“Also,” Mr. Mullins continued, “He offered to pay for your expenses, but it is my opinion that it wouldn’t be acceptable. So, as soon as you know when you’re good to leave, let Cassandra Williams—from accounting—know, and she’ll book your flights.”

Suddenly very lost, I frowned and tried to catch up. “Excuse me, my expenses? My flights?”

It was Mullins’ turn to be perplexed. “Hasn’t he let you know that you’d have to browse the collection on site? It was never properly inventoried, so there are no pictures, written catalog, or available descriptions of the items, artifacts, and documents. I believe that’s why it should take you at least a week. You’ll have to determine each…”

He kept speaking, but I could barely hear him. Had I gotten that right? I had to fly to Norway in person and examine Mr. Westergaard’s collection to choose? For a whole week? I hadn’t anticipated that, not even a little bit. How could I?

What on Earth was happening?

“Do you know where the collection is kept?” I asked, only realizing too late that I’d interrupted him.

He checked on his computer to confirm his answer and then turned to me again. “Since you are to fly to Trondheim, I suppose it is kept on his estate. In Mr. Westergaard’s main residence.”

For the umpteenth time in the past week, I did nothing but stand there like an idiot, absorbing the shocking news I’d just been given. If I wanted the pieces I needed for my exhibit, I’d need to spend a week scavenging through Ulrik Westergaard’s collection. Most likely while he was there.

This was throwing a massive spanner in my plans to keep my distance from him and avoid all contact. Not only would I be unable to stay away from him, we’d have daily, unavoidable, and up-close interactions since I’d work in his house.

And it was too late to back up. Not only were the procedures pending, Mr. Mullins was also involved in this already. Changing my mind would look terrible on so many levels.

What the… How was I finding myself in this position? The very last thing I wanted to do was to get closer to the man. But it couldn’t get any closer than that, could it?

How had everything spiraled out of control so fast?

---

Gigi sat on my bed as I finished packing my small suitcase. I’d been in a perpetual state of whiplash since Mullins had given me the news, struggling to keep up with the reality of things. But as I explored my wardrobe to dig out knitted sweaters and thick tights, it was hard to deny all of it was really happening.

Since everyone was doing their best to speed up the proceedings for my sake, I could hardly postpone my departure, forced to follow the flow. So, about twenty-two hours after my talk with the museum’s director, I was packing for Norway.

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” Gigi declared from the bed.

“Me neither. The man blew me off, and now he has to welcome me into his home.”

“Yeah, that’ll be awkward as hell. Do you think he’ll be there much?”

“I have no idea, but I hope not. He seems to travel a lot, so I’m praying that he’ll have some business to handle somewhere.”

She crossed her fingers and then drew the sign of the cross with her free hand. It made me chuckle, as I’d rarely seen someone more agnostic than her. Shuffling through my underwear drawers, I pulled out what I’d need for the week, including warm socks.

“You should also take some sexier ensembles,” she said when she saw what I’d picked. “In case he decides to handle your business.”

I squinted my eyes at her with disapproval. “What happened to ‘you can keep it professional?’”

“Eh, what’s the fun in that?”

“I won’t sleep with him, Gigi. He’s clearly lost interest in me, and I’m not going to crawl at his feet until he reconsiders. I’m not that desperate.”

“Doesn’t have to be pathetic, you know… Flash him your tits and he’ll be the one doing the crawling.”

“I’m not sure that would be enough, and I don’t want to, anyway.”

I left her to head to the bathroom to gather my toiletries. “You have amazing tits, so it might work,” she argued from afar. I didn’t answer, rolling my eyes instead. Regardless of what she said, I wouldn’t sleep with Ulrik Westergaard. This was a work thing, a great opportunity, and I wouldn’t ruin it for the sake of my libido.

She was still there when I came out three minutes later with my vanity bag. She was typing on her phone, and the way she smiled made it clear who she was messaging with. “The timing is amazing for you, though. You’ll get to have some privacy with Vick. You two will get to know each other better.”

“That’s nice, yeah. But I’ll miss you.”

“It’s only a week,” I laughed.

“That’s seven days too many.”

Touched by how sincere she was, I dropped my phone’s charger in the suitcase, and came to attack her with a hug. She squealed with surprise, then laughed. I lay half over her on the bed, my head against her modest chest as her arms held me. I stayed silent for a moment, lost in my thoughts.

“Gigi?”

“Hmm?”

“I have a favor to ask.”

“Go on.”

“I talk a big game and all, but I’m actually so worried I might sleep with him.”

“It wouldn’t be the end of the world if you did, you know?”

“It’s just…he’s gonna mess me up, Gi. I just know it. Three days of knowing him and I was already knee deep. I don’t want to come back all fucked up because we fooled around and he rejected me again. It’s not like we could make something work, anyway.”

She remained silent for a moment, pondering. “What’s the favor you want from me?”

“Can you be, like, my sponsor? Whenever I feel like I might give in, I call or text, and you talk me out of it?”

“You want me to talk you out of sex?” she asked after a moment, incredulous. I looked up to meet her eyes.

“Basically, yes.”

“Have you met me? I’m programmed to do the opposite.”

“Please, Gi… I just know that no good could come out of it.”

“Well, you would feel good. Very good, I’d venture.”

“I don’t want the temporary gratification. He doesn’t deserve to be inside me after the way he behaved, but I might be too weak to enforce that.”

She blinked a few times, still staring down at me. Eventually, she sighed with a nod. “Alright, I’ll be your anti-Ulrik sponsor. I promise I’ll do everything I can to not let you fuck him.”

“Thanks, boo.” She bent to kiss my forehead, passing a soothing hand over my shoulder.

“You know I’d be up for cuddling all day, but you’ll make yourself late, sweets.”

“I don’t want to go,” I fussed.

“I know, but it’s time to put on your big girl’s trousers. You’ll go there, explore his collection, and come back with treasures barely anyone has seen before. Isn’t it exciting?”

“It really is, yes…”

“Then get up, Jamila Connelly, and finish packing up. I’ll go make you a snack for your trip. Do you want anything in particular?”

“Do we still have that cookie dough in the freezer?”

“I think so, yes. You want that?”

I nodded, feeling like a child being overindulged by their mom.

“I love you, Gigi.”

“I love you too, Mimi. Now, back to work!”

【23】Short Commute

Two and a half hours later, I was getting out of the airport shuttle. The last time I’d been in Heathrow dated back to five months ago, for a conference in Stockholm, where I’d attended as a speaker. I’d believed my next flight would be in December, to visit my dad for the holidays, but there I was…

I made my way through the familiar place with ease, reaching my gate without a hiccup. Even as I boarded the plane, I was struggling to accept this was all real. The suddenness of everything was making it feel like a dream, a wild scenario conjured by my subconscious.

I kept checking my phone until we were asked to turn off all electronic devices. Because of how secluded the Westergaard Estate was, finding a place for me to stay was proving complicated. The person in charge of booking where I’d sleep—Cassandra Williams, from accounting—was still working on it, and she’d promised she’d get back to me as soon as she had a solution. Hopefully, she’d have texted me with some good news by the time I landed.

Panic properly set in as soon as the aircraft took off. But thanks to Cassandra, I was flying Business, so I was able to order myself a drink. The first vodka cranberry didn’t help much, but the second did. I’d brought some work to keep myself busy during the two-and-a-half-hour ride, but I wasn’t able to focus enough to get anything done.

It was heavily raining when the plane landed in Trondheim, which I knew might be the norm during my week-long stay. My phone was on again as soon as allowed, and I impatiently waited for it to boot and for notifications to come in.

They only did as I was making my way out of customs, walking toward the terminal’s exit.

Everything has been arranged. Someone’s picking you up from the airport.

Well, that sounded ominous…

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I kept my eyes on the phone, expecting more texts to come as she explained what exactly had been arranged. I knew she’d been talking to a small bed-and-breakfast, the closest lodging to the Westergaard Estate, so maybe they’d made something work in the end. Instead of Cassandra’s, it was Gigi’s text that came next.

Remember, no sexy foolery. I’ll know if you do, and I’ll repudiate you. Don’t make me be a bad sponsor.

I chuckled, passing the terminal door just then. Lifting my eyes, I scanned the people amassed there to find someone who might be holding a panel with my name on it. That was usually how things worked when I traveled this way.

Before I could find them, I froze in my tracks as I met an arresting pair of blue eyes, attached to a very familiar face I hadn’t expected to see so soon.

Maybe he was waiting for someone else, but the odds of that were too slim for me to actually enjoy the delusion. As we stared at one another from afar, I sensed all my determination slowly melt away. Ugh, why did it have to be him? He was even more dashing than I remembered.

It dawned on me that I’d barely seen him at all in the end. Three times over three days, and that was it. More than ever, the power he had over my mind terrified me. How could three encounters cause so much chaos and disarray?

Someone huffed behind me, reminding me that I was blocking the way, so I gathered myself and moved further into the airport. Mr. Westergaard was with me in seconds, looking absurdly dashing in his dark blue parka and jeans. Seeing him out of his suits was disturbing, but not as much as the way I loved this casual version of him.

Oh, God… I might have to call Gigi as soon as I had a moment alone.

“Welcome, Miss Connelly.”

“Thanks…but—Why are you here?”

“It’s nice to see you, too.” As cordial as he was trying to be, I could sense the tension underlying his detached tone.

“I wasn’t expecting you, is what I meant.”

“Jakob couldn’t make it, so I volunteered.”

“Jakob?”

“My handyman. He was supposed to pick you up, but he ran into some issues at the estate. Is that all you have?” he asked, looking down at my suitcase.

I glanced at my luggage, my laptop bag, the coat thrown over my arm, and my handbag hooked in the fold of my elbow. “Yes, I tried to pack light, since it’s such a short stay.” I wasn’t sure if I’d said it for him or for me, but the reminder felt important at the moment.

After a dry nod, he grabbed the handle of my suitcase and gestured for me to follow. Side by side, we walked in silence to the airport’s exit, minding the many people there. As soon as we passed the automatic door, cold humidity seeped through my sweater. I hesitated to put on my coat, but he walked to a dark red Porsche™ SUV that was parked in the drop off area, its hazard lights blinking. An airport agent was standing by it, and I wondered if she’d fine Mr. Westergaard for his disregard of rules.

Instead, the latter handed the agent a bill, thanking her in Norwegian for her understanding. From what I gathered, she’d told him he couldn’t park here, but he’d negotiated, since this zone was sheltered from the rain. The woman nodded and went on with her duties, shoving the bribe into her chest pocket. I followed him to the back of the vehicle, where the luxury car’s logo was written in shiny script, and watched as he opened the trunk to set my suitcase inside. The massive space looked ridiculously too big with my small luggage in it.

After I’d added my computer bag, I went to sit on the passenger’s side. When he joined me, I held back a groan. He’d gotten rid of his parka, allowing me to marvel at the perfect fit of the black shirt that had been hiding underneath. I tried not to look at his forearms and his tattoos, revealed by the way his sleeves were rolled up. But when he pushed the button to turn off the hazard signals, I all but gorged at the powerful muscles lying under his pale skin and swirling tattoos.

“Do rules not apply to you?” I impulsively asked, needing something—anything—to get my mind out of the gutter it was slowly rolling into.

When he sent me a confused glance, I vaguely gestured at the car and the airport around us. One of those god-forsaken half smiles bent the corner of his lips up. “I didn’t want you to get all wet as soon as you arrived.”

Even though he wasn’t trying to seduce or conquer, his low voice was like an invitation to sin to me. As my body shivered at his inadvertent double entendre, I realized it might be too late for me not getting wet. Shit, I had to text Gigi soon, so she could remind me why the man was an ass, undeserving of my attention.

He started the engine with a push of a button, and I was surprised to see it was an electric car. But I’d noticed during my time in this country that its people generally favored such vehicles when they could afford it, so it made sense. After setting the stick on drive, he drove us out of the airport’s vicinity, and then launched us to wherever we were heading, without a need for any form of GPS.

“You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” I said after there had been a few minutes of silence.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Your accent. It doesn’t sound like you’re from Trondheim’s area.”

“You noticed?” he asked, visibly impressed.

“I studied in Bergen for three years, and from what I recall, Trøndersk is very distinguishable. Actually, I can’t even tell where your accent is from.”

He smiled at first and then frowned for a moment. “After my parents died, I was sent to Iceland with my mother’s family for a while. And then, for high school, I went to a boarding school in Bergen. I’m afraid my accent was all made up by the time I moved back here after university. And I travel too much to pick up the local one.”

“Ég vissi ekki að mamma þín væri frá Íslandi,” I said, speaking Icelandic. I didn’t know your mother was from Iceland.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, love,” he replied in the same language.

It was so very true that I felt stupid for my comment. Aside from a few crumbs of information, I didn’t know this man. Odds were that I might learn a lot more in the upcoming week. I wasn’t sure that I wanted that, though. In fact, the less I knew about him, the better.

We reached a more rural area, and I noticed how much I’d missed this. Not just Norway, but being out of the city in general. As a child, my dad had often taken me to a cabin he’d inherited from his own father, and I used to love going out in the wild. Although, we’d still very much been city people, so the wild was actually a small town near a lake. But after he’d gotten his job for the Smithsonian, his responsibilities hadn’t allowed for much of these escapades, so it had been ages since I’d properly enjoyed nature and all it had to offer.

Realizing I had no idea where I’d be staying, I turned to Mr. Westergaard. After I’d admired his perfect profile for a second, I asked, “Are you dropping me off at the bed-and-breakfast in Hyttbakken?”

“No, that didn’t work out.”

“Oh… I hope what Cassandra found isn’t too far. Maybe I should have rented a car back at the airport.”

“Don’t worry, your commute will be quite short.”

“Really?”

An unreadable smile stretched his lips. “I haven’t timed it, but I’d say three minutes from the guest room to the collection gallery.”

Probably out of self preservation, my brain didn’t compute his words immediately. Instead, I stared at the dashboard, repeating what he’d said over and over in my head, trying to make sense of it. The guest room , he’d said? No, I must have heard it wrong. This couldn’t be happening. I wasn’t staying at his place. No, no, no.

“Is this a joke?” I let out, disoriented.

“What is?”

“I’m not staying with you, right? I can’t be.”

“Why not? When Mrs. Williams and I spoke earlier today, she was still struggling to find proper lodging for you. I merely offered a solution that will suit everyone.”

“ Everyone ?“ I repeated with cynicism. The only person it suited was probably Cassandra, as it certainly didn’t suit me, and I was sure as hell it didn’t suit him either.

What in the Niflhel was going on? Not only would I work there for a week, I’d live there too? We’d be physically close 24/7, which sounded like the most dangerous thing ever for my combativity. How had an unwanted situation gotten so much worse? What sort of karmic retribution was happening to me?

I remained silent for the longest time, trying to wrap my head around that new piece of information. “Was there really no other option?” I asked after a moment. Like a tent, an abandoned warehouse, a comfortable gutter…

“Well, the closest one was an hour away, which I suppose would be fine if you’d rather drive than sleep on site. But the problem is that we’re expecting temperature drops in the incoming days, so that means all this…” he gestured at the intense rain pouring on the windshield, “will turn into snow. They’re good at clearing the roads, but you still might get stuck either at your lodging or at my house.”

I didn’t like how much that made sense, and I had nothing to say to counter it. So, instead of making a fool of myself, I kept my mouth shut, looking at the rainy landscape. It was beautiful, despite the bad weather, and I found myself hoping there would be a few sunny days during my stay, so I’d get to enjoy those steep valleys and lush forests to their fullest.

“Is the idea of staying under the same roof as me that revolting?” he asked, sounding somehow curious, playful, and wary altogether. Either the man was all over the place, or I was very bad at reading his tone.

“It honestly is.” I didn’t even bother looking at him, preferring the magnificent sights surrounding us.

“We’ve only known each other for a week and a few hours, but you already loathe me that much?”

“Craziest part is that I really liked you a lot at some point, too. I guess you exacerbate my emotions and thoughts.”

【24】Beautiful Sight

He didn’t reply right away, and I wondered if I’d been too candid. But it probably wasn’t news to him. I’d made my interest in him as clear as he’d made his in me. It turned out I wasn’t that interesting, though, since it had only been fleeting for him. Thinking of it allowed me to remember why I ought to hold a grudge in this situation. I refused to be someone’s plaything, an airheaded idiot who’d let a man toy with her in such a careless manner.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it Saturday.” I could hear that he meant it, traces of guilt lacing his apologetic tone. But that wasn’t enough to dupe me, to gain my forgiveness.

I turned to him, meeting his eyes before he turned to the road again. “It’s not that you couldn’t make it—I’m not unreasonable, I get that things can happen and get in the way. The problem is that it ‘slipped your mind,’ that you had hours to warn me, and you didn’t bother to do it. The problem is that you didn’t even apologize afterward, not an explanation, not a text, not even a ‘sorry.’”

“I’m apologizing now,” he said after a moment.

“But it’s too late. I know my worth, Mr. Westergaard, and I won’t beg for scraps of attention or crumbs of affection. Whatever this was we were doing, that unspoken game that was going on, I’m done playing.”

“Are you forfeiting, then?”

“You’re the one who didn’t understand the rules. The game was over the moment you treated me like trash.”

“It wasn’t my intention.” There was no doubt that he was remorseful, so that helped with the rancor I felt. But the outcome was still the same.

“Better luck next time,” I replied. Then, before he could get the wrong idea, I hurriedly added, “With another woman. Hopefully one that’s more patient and forgiving than I am.”

The rain outside had temporarily stopped, so between that and the electric engine, the silence that followed was thick and charged with uneasy tension. Part of me was glad that I’d gotten the opportunity to make things very clear between us, even before we’d reached his place. But I usually wasn’t a vindictive person, so it felt wrong to be so harsh in my words, so resolute in my decision. It was for the best, though.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Mila. I didn’t realize my lack of consideration would be so hard on you.”

“I’m not hurt,” I lied, too prideful to admit it. “I just don’t like feeling like an idiot. You blew it, yes, but it was stupid of me to expect too much. That’s all in the past now. My visit here will remain strictly professional, and I hope you can respect that.”

“It’s fine by me.”

It shouldn’t have hurt, and I shouldn’t have let it hurt, but there I was, sensing a twinge of pain in my chest. Maybe I wouldn’t need to call Gigi after all. Not when he was perfectly fine keeping his distance from me.

“How far is the estate?” I asked, wondering how long I’d have to sit in this oppressing atmosphere.

“An hour and a half from the airport, two hours from Trondheim.”

I nodded silently, turning to my window. Barely twenty minutes had passed since we’d left the airport; which meant the worst had yet to come. Well, as Gigi had said, it was big girl’s pants time.

I’d worked too hard for my career to risk compromising it all by acting unprofessionally. No way I’d be a bitch to one of the museum’s biggest donors and get fired. It didn’t matter if he’d started it first.

Compared to him, I had a lot more to lose.

---

Despite my high expectations, the Westergaard estate was even bigger than I’d anticipated. After we passed the secured gate, which was a good fifteen minutes off the main road, we drove uphill for ages, on a well-maintained path bordered by pine trees. The sun had already set, and the last of the daylight was slipping away, the sky rapidly fading into night. So, when the dense forest cleared, it was the lights inside that allowed me to spot the house for the first time. If that could even be called a house…

From what I could distinguish, it was nothing like what I’d thought it would be. I wasn’t even sure what I’d expected, but not something so…modern. Built on the steep slope of the mountain’s flank, it spanned over four levels, masterfully designed to blend in despite its walls of concrete and glass. The architecture of it was spectacular, even if I couldn’t see all of it, with overhanging portions, imposing volumes, and many large windows.

As he drove us closer to it, I marveled at the sight. Even if I wasn’t an architecture buff, I realized this was a particularly splendid construction, one that should be in magazines and shows. We passed a small, traditional log house, and a moment later, the road split into two ways. He picked the one that went up, and it brought us to the house’s entrance, which, to my surprise, was located on the highest floor. Once the car was parked under the overhanging concrete roof, he turned off the engine.

I opened my door after he did his, and stepped out into the humid cold, holding my handbag tightly. Once the trunk had opened, he picked up my computer bag to hang it over his broad shoulder, and then grabbed his parka and my suitcase. He pushed the trunk door’s closing button once I had my coat, and then I followed him to the door.

It wasn’t even locked, which spoke volumes about how isolated we were up here. As we entered, I noticed with amazement that the inside was just as tastefully designed as the outside. But once we stepped out of the entry hall, what truly caught my eye was the insane view.

The entrance led right into the main area of the house, a vast and spacious open space, with polished concrete floors and designer furniture. And opposite us, the entire wall was pierced with floor-to-ceiling windows, which revealed a large terrasse with an infinity pool, and beyond that, what must be a stunning view over the fjord.

Stunned, I walked farther into the room, disappointed that it was now pitch black out there. I couldn’t wait to wake up tomorrow and see what the valley would look like from here.

“These days, the sun rises over here,” came his suave voice right next to me. I turned his way, surprised that he could so easily guess what I was thinking. I looked in the direction he showed, but saw nothing other than night and rain. “And it sets over there,” he continued, pointing in another direction.

“It must be a beautiful sight.”

“It really is.”

When my eyes lifted to him again, his attention was on me instead of the darkness outside. Words failed me as we stared at one another for a moment, his proximity enveloping me like a warm and fluffy blanket.

How could it be so hard to loathe him? Why was I always so prone to letting my guard down and letting him in? From the very beginning, I’d been pulled to this man like I had never been with anyone else. Even my fusional relationship with Gigi hadn’t been this strong from the start.

My eyes drifted from his perfect face to his throat, thick and strong. Then, lower, the little triangle of skin on display thanks to the couple of buttons he hadn’t bothered to take care of.

A week. I’d be here for a week, alone with this man and my desire for him.

Just in time to disprove me, a feminine voice breached through the cocoon of want I’d slipped into. “Hello!” it said with unmasked enthusiasm.

I ripped my attention away from him and onto the newcomer. A petite and plump woman was coming our way, her pace noticeably energetic for someone her age. Since she seemed to be from East Asia, I knew she might be older than she looked, which was somewhere in her sixties. She was wearing a long light gray sweater with black leggings underneath, and house slippers at her feet. Her black hair was cut short, strands of white scattered in it, and her slightly wrinkled face was beaming with kindness.

“Miss Connelly, this is Yuko Tamiyo, the housekeeper and heart of this place.” She waved an embarrassed hand, as if she disagreed with the last part. “Yuko, this is Miss Jamila Connelly.”

Still smiling wide, she saluted me with a quick bow, keeping her arms close to her body. Unsure what to do, I reciprocated in the same manner.

“I choose the best room for you,” she told me with a strong accent. “You have the best view, and the bath with the bubbles.” She sounded and looked so adorable, I couldn’t help but smile, very touched by her attention.

“Thank you so much. But you didn’t have to. I’m really just here for work, not vacat—”

“No, no, no! You get best treatment.”

“We don’t get many guests, so she’s thrilled to have you for a week,” Mr. Westergaard explained. “She’s also looking forward to speaking in English with you, as she never really gets the chance to practice.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I love talking,” I told her with a mischievous smile.

Mr. Westergaard’s phone buzzed in his back pocket, so he took it out to see what that was about. Quickly, he frowned, seemingly dissatisfied. “Yuko, would you mind showing Miss Connelly to her room? I have a few things to handle before dinner.”

“Yes, of course! Go to your office, I take care of guest.” With her hands, she shooed him away.

I watched as he walked off, disappearing around a corner. “Did you travel good?” Ms. Tamiyo asked.

“I did, thank you. I managed to have a direct flight.”

“Is this everything?” She was pointing at my suitcase, which Mr. Westergaard had left near us. I nodded, and she grabbed it by the handle to lift it.

“I can handle that, Ms. Tamiyo,” I insisted.

“No, all good. Follow me, Miss Connelly.”

“Please, call me Mila.”

She didn’t answer but waved at me to follow. We passed the living space with the couches, then the table, and arrived at a massive open kitchen. She took a turn right, entering a wide corridor, and I followed suit. Her steps were abnormally fast for a woman her size, especially since she didn’t look like she was hurrying at all. The woman radiated efficiency.

As she opened the first door on the right, she moved to the side and then invited me to enter before her. My eyes widened at the luxurious bedroom within, traveling from side to side in order to take it all in. It was much, much more than what I would have had at the inn. The room was spacious, tastefully furnished and decorated, with massive windows that opened to the side of the house, on a view that must be the mountain’s flank. The opened bathroom beckoned for a shower in the large stall, or maybe a bath in the gigantic tub angled toward a window.

It didn’t matter how much I wanted out of it and away from him , this was clearly the best solution for my week-long stay here. Mr. Westergaard’s collection was kept right here somewhere, and I’d be able to work on it from early mornings to late nights, until I’d found everything I needed.

Ms. Tamiyo entered after me, and she did a quick inspection of everything, to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “If you need anything, you ask me.” She grabbed a small remote on the nightstand and showed me a couple of buttons on it. “This is for the curtains and the… the…” The word wouldn’t come to her, and I saw her frustration as she said it in Japanese instead.

With her hands, she tried to mime what she meant, and I quickly understood. “The rolling shutters?”

Her eyes lightened. “Yes! It is for the rolling shutters.” She put it back by the bed and looked around one last time. “Oh! Do you have allergies?”

“To food?”

“Yes, food you don’t eat.”

“Uh, no, not that I know of. And I eat pretty much anything.”

“Do you like ramen? Mr. Westergaard loves ramen when there is rain.”

“I actually love Japanese cuisine. Much more than Norwegian,” I confessed, lowering my voice.

She smiled understandingly. “Good. I will go prepare dinner, then.”

“Thank you so much for all this, Ms. Tamiyo,” I quickly said before she turned around.

“Please, call me Yuko.”

“Only if you call me Mila.”

She agreed with a nod, and after a quick bow, she left the guest room, closing the door behind her. This left me alone with my thoughts for the first time in forever, and I stared blankly at the light beige sheets spread on the bed without a wrinkle. If I had to go through all this, Mr. Westergaard’s collection better be worth it. Hopefully, this wasn’t one of the things he’d lied or exaggerated about.

After a few moments of self-pitying and wondering what I was doing here, I went to take my suitcase from its spot near the door and opened it by the closet. After I’d set a few items on the shelf, something red and flimsy caught my eye. Confused, I picked it up, pulling it out from the rest of my very reasonable clothes. Incredulity struck me as I understood what had happened. And even more so when I noticed there was more than the red ensemble.

That horny little bitch…

【25】The Tip of the Iceberg

A disbelieving grin was on my face as I fetched my phone and sent Gigi a text.

My sexy lingerie? Really? You are the worst sponsor in the history of sponsors

, I sent her. Shaking my head, I went back to finish unpacking. I hadn’t done much more when my phone buzzed.

I put it there before you asked for your favor

Bad Gigi! Bad!

Three knocks on the door resonated in the room, startling me. “Come in,” I said while throwing my phone on the bed, thinking it was Yuko who might have more questions for me.

The door opened, and when I looked away from my pile of sweaters, a shiver ran up my spine as I realized it wasn’t Yuko, but him . Hurriedly, I closed the suitcase. So he wouldn’t see the lace and sheer garments, imagining things that weren’t true.

He was holding a red and yellow bag of chips in his hand, triggering my curiosity. “Flamin’ hot, was it?” he asked as he stepped into the room, bringing the bag forward so I could see it.

My jaw dropped half an inch as I stared at the bag of Cheetos™ he must have brought back from his trip to the U.S. The very flavor I’d jokingly asked him to get for me. Completely lost and confused, I looked up to meet his eyes, unsure of what to even say.

Did he have a split personality, one that was kind and considerate, and the other rude and cruel? Maybe he was part of a twin set, with a good one and an evil one. Those were the only ways I could explain why he’d be so dry to me on Saturday evening, but then bring me smuggled snacks from across the Atlantic Sea.

“Did I misremember? Is it not the right one?” he asked after I’d failed to reply for several seconds, looking at the bag with a frown.

“No, no—It is. I just… I didn’t expect you to actually bring it back.”

He didn’t say a thing, letting the bag down onto the bedding instead. We both stared at it for a moment, and while I wasn’t sure what was running in his head, mine was filled with questions, trying to understand the duality of this man.

“I take it you can’t find those in the U.K.?” he eventually wondered.

“No, they are banned in the U.K. and part of Europe. A food coloring agent in it isn’t right for this side of the world.”

Mild amusement appeared on his neutral expression. “You had me smuggle you forbidden goods?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually bother.” That made his slight smile disappear fast.

Another awkward moment of nothing passed, and I wondered if we’d ever go back to that easy dynamic we had in the beginning.

“I have a rather odd request to make,” he said after a moment, seemingly uneasy. “She might not look like it, but Yuko is currently battling medical issues. She has for the past two years. I’ve tried everything I could to get her to stop working so she can rest, but she claims she prefers to keep busy, as it helps with her mental health.”

I could hear just how affected he was by all this, and it made me wonder how long he’d known her for. Clearly, he was very attached to her, in a capacity that went beyond their professional relationship. She mattered to him a lot.

He averted his eyes, cringing. “I’ve done all I could to leave her as little work as possible, so she still gets as much rest as possible. It’s embarrassing to ask this, but would you mind tidying after yourself so her workload might remain as light as possible?”

“Yes, of course,” I instantly agreed. “I would have regardless, but I will absolutely do my best. I’m sorry to hear she isn’t well. She looked so…lively, I would never have guessed.”

“The woman is a rock. I’m convinced she’ll survive us all,” he said with a pinch of humor. “For now, she just needs some extra support.”

“Have you known her for long?”

“Yes, she’s worked for the Westergaards since she was fourteen. She is essentially family.”

Since he’d lost his own parents, I figured having Yuko there the entire time must have been meaningful to him. It explained why he’d been so visibly emotional as he’d told me about her troubles.

“Can I ask what she has?”

“Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia. It got better after her first rounds of chemotherapy early on, but her results weren’t so good on her last tests three months ago. Now, she goes to Trondheim twice a month for chemo, and stays there for three days, to be taken care of during the worst of it. I have a cleaning team come in whenever she’s there, so they can scrub this place from floor to ceiling, and she’s left with nothing to do but rest.”

“That’s very sweet of you to take care of her like this, and make sure she doesn’t overwork herself.”

“If it were me, she’d be retired entirely. I’m keeping her around regardless, taking care of whatever she might need for the rest of her life. I’m good to hire someone new to do her job, but she’s a prideful woman. She’s worked hard her entire life, and there’s nothing I can say to make her take a step back.”

His eyes were lost on the night outside the windows, his brows slightly furrowed. I wasn’t sure what to do with this side of him, the one that smuggled me spicy snacks and cared so deeply for his employee. Things would be a lot easier if he could be a confident dick all the time, and not a complex man whose mysteries I was eager to uncover. Something told me I could expect a few more surprises from Ulrik Westergaard.

His gaze traveled back to me, blue and intense, reaching me all the way to my soul. “Anyhow, thank you for understanding.”

“Of course… Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be sure to help as much as I can.”

“I appreciate that, Miss Connelly.” He looked at the suitcase by the closet, and the opened drawer there. “Let me know when you’re done settling in and I’ll show you the gallery.”

Oh, my things didn’t matter one bit if this was the alternative. I was dying to discover this great Viking collection he’d spoken so highly of. If he estimated a week for it all, it must have been grandiose indeed.

“I’m good to go now,” I impatiently declared, unable to hide my enthusiasm as I walked up to him at a hasty pace. A half-grin bloomed on his face, and he gave me a nod. We returned to the large living area and walked to reach a grand staircase that led to the level below.

“My office is there,” he explained, pointing at a closed wooden door. “If you ever need anything, this is where you’ll find me.”

After I’d acknowledged it, he took me downstairs, where the lights smoothly lit up on their own. This room was nearly as spacious as the one above, but instead of furniture, it was arranged like a museum’s gallery, with showcases, artifacts hanging on walls, and pedestals. The lighting system was organized just for those, cleverly placed above the display cases.

As if drawn to it, my eyes landed on a particularly meaningful item displayed in the middle of everything, like a centerpiece. I walked to it, dismissing my host entirely. He hadn’t lied. Haakon’s second sword was right here, safely exposed in a tall glass case. Right next to it, there was an empty space, with similar hooks, probably meant for the sword we had back at the museum.

“It’s exactly the same,” I breathed out, admiring its fine details.

He was right by me when he said, “A set of identical twins, aside from the inscriptions. You understand why I had to reunite them after so long apart.”

I pouted at the reminder. “It’s been over a millennium. They could have waited another decade.” He chuckled next to me, the low sound making something flutter in my pit.

I walked away to another showcase to set some distance between us. In this one, gold and silver jewelry was exposed, dating back to the early ninth century, if I had to guess. The more I looked around the private gallery, the more I had to admit that the pieces in here were of great quality and value. Some were so untouched by time, it wouldn’t surprise me if we found fingerprints of their late owners. I was completely stunned when I reached a piece of tapestry, shocked to see something as fragile as fabric be so well-preserved. And on it, it was very clear who’d been represented, given the two swords and imposing silhouette. This was an incredibly valuable depiction of Haakon Odinson.

All the while I browsed through the gallery, Mr. Westergaard remained a few steps behind, watching me with his blue gaze. I could feel it on my back and neck, warming my skin under my clothes. Anytime I peered back to glimpse at him, his eyes didn’t shy away from mine, which never failed to unsettle me.

Once I’d walked to all the pieces, we ended up back at Haakon’s sword. “I can really borrow anything?” I asked, peering at it.

He caught my drift and protested with a shake of his head and a smile. “Anything but this one, love.”

With a slight pout, I looked around the room, scanning it once more. “Is it everything?”

Another one of those devilish semi-smirks. “No, this is only the tip of the iceberg; the items I like to revisit.”

My surprise was poorly hidden, given the way his grin widened. “Where’s the rest?”

“If you’ll follow me…”

He led me to a door and opened it before stepping inside first. As I followed, he flicked a switch that lit up the left side of the room, and I was surprised to see the setup there. There was a glass separation, and behind it, bookshelves filled with many old codexes, rolls, and manuscripts. That caught my attention right away, and I stood in front of the thick glass to observe the treasures within.

“This section has regulated temperature and humidity, and the panels have an anti-UV protection. You can take things out to consult them, but remember to put them back to their places when you’re done. Now, for this part of the collection,” he continued, going to turn on another switch.

Air was kicked out of my lungs as the rest of his collection appeared to my sight. The space was positively immense, spanning over this floor with a walkway on each side, and then the floor below. Hundreds of shelves hosted thousands of objects, and I couldn’t do anything other than stare at them from where I stood. There was enough here to fill two, three museums, enough to study and rewrite the entire history of the Vikings.

I stepped forward, setting my hands on the railway as I admired what lay beneath. My heart was hammering in my chest, my excitement uncontainable. This was insane, phenomenal, unexpected… It was ten times more than what I’d thought it would be, more than anyone could ever imagine.

The question hadn’t crossed my mind before that moment, but I ended up wondering just how rich and influential the Westergaard family had been over the centuries. How could they have amassed so many treasures over time?

I had yet to analyze everything, but given the current market, the content of this room and the gallery was worth hundreds of millions of dollars, if not a small billion.

“Do you think you’ll find everything you need?” he asked, his large hands grasping the railway next to me.

I looked up at him, still flabbergasted. “This is… I don’t even have the words.”

“I estimated a week to go over it all. I hope I wasn’t too far off.”

My eyes returned to the collection at our feet. A week might actually be too little for all this, especially given the room full of books behind us. “I guess we’ll see.”

Everything in me was eager to get down there and start working, impatient to uncover what treasures lay among those shelves. But I held back, thinking it might be a little too hasty. My keenness must have been obvious, though, because he left me for a few seconds, and when I turned to him again, he was looking down at me with an indulgent expression on his face.

“Go on,” he said as he handed me a pair of silk gloves, giving me the permission I’d been waiting for.

I didn’t need to be told twice, and headed to the stairs to get down to the walkways while I slipped on the gloves. For nearly half an hour, I lost myself in history, completely absorbed by all the amazing items on the shelves. As I was halfway through the right walkway, an elegant tune echoed in the room. Wondering where it came from, I looked around, only to notice that Mr. Westergaard was still where I’d left him, gazing down at me with his hawk eyes. Had he been there the entire time?

“This means dinner is served,” he explained.

“Oh…” My first reaction was disappointment, but then I remembered the ramen Yuko had cooked for us. Without a complaint, I walked back to him. Once I’d removed the gloves and handed them to him, he put them away on a console and led me back to the gallery.

“I’ll give you the rest of the tour after dinner, and then you can come back to complete your inspection,” he explained with amusement, showing once more that he knew how to read me a little too well.

“Will Yuko be joining us?” I wondered, hoping it wouldn’t just be us two.

“No, after she’s done with dinner, she usually goes back to her place, which is a log house near this one.” I remembered seeing it upon arriving.

Ah, crap… So this meant it’d be just the two of us, every evening, for a week. If not more, given the sheer size of his collection. That was bound to be awkward as hell.

As we reached the stairs, his hand briefly met my lower back, to invite me to go first. As electric shivers spread from where his faint touch had barely lingered, I realized the awkwardness of it might not be the worst after all.

No, the real danger was how close I was to letting go of my determination to keep him at bay and just give in…

As good a sponsor as Gigi would try to be, it might not be enough…

【26】Self-Sabotager

Ulrik

Life worked in a strange manner, forever unpredictable regardless of how much experience one might have. The situation I found myself in proved that beyond doubt.

I’d hoped that my behavior during my stay in New York would effectively push Miss Connelly away, putting an end to whatever had been growing between us. But I’d underestimated her resilience and dedication to her work, so now she was staying with me, invading my private space as much as she did my thoughts.

Instead of having pushed away the danger she posed, I had brought it closer, right at my doorstep—past it, even. At least, she seemed to loathe me to some extent, still pissed at me because of the way I’d treated her. Just not enough to refuse my offer to loan her items from my collection…

As we ate together, facing each other at the dinner table, I tried to envision what the next week would be like. There was still something between us, still some form of desire, a lingering tension. Something as potent as what we’d had couldn’t fade away so easily; it would take more time to become a thing of the past, a distant memory. But if the last few hours were any indication, I worried my infatuation for her would only grow stronger with each day of her stay here.

I’d realized that the moment I’d seen her come out of the terminal’s gate, actually. And then the way she’d halted upon seeing me, the displeased frown that had bent her delicate brows, had served as a bitter reminder that I’d insulted her, depriving myself of her smiles and flirty glances. After a brief moment where I’d regretted my actions, I’d remembered it was for the best, and that the thrill of the game wasn’t worth its aftermath.

While I’d looked at her while she examined the collection, I’d questioned that decision, entranced by the passion that seeped through her, envious of the items for being the center of her attention, the objects of her passion.

But this was why I had to keep her away, to push her harder than the pull I felt toward her. This level of intensity could only bring troubles, and I needed none of that.

Silence surrounded us as we ate the delicious ramen Yuko had cooked for us, and I didn’t try to break it with conversation so it was less awkward. I could tell she was torn. Despite my behavior, she still wanted me to some extent, and it wouldn’t take much to get her to cave in. But as tempting as that was, I couldn’t afford it. So, instead of being the charming man she’d met, the one I wanted to be around her, I would try to keep a barrier between us. And it would stay there, no matter how much I wanted to tear it down.

“It was my understanding that your family’s collection extended to more than your Viking heritage,” she pointed out, breaking the crisp quietness.

“It does. Blame it on genetics, but we’ve always been interested in traveling and exploring new worlds. The Westergaards have amassed countless treasures over the centuries.”

“And where are those now?”

“I’m trying to repair our wrongs by having everything returned to their original countries. Museums all over the world have objects that still belong to me, but will be exposed and accessible to people who can appreciate their meaningfulness. I still kept a few pieces for myself—personal favorites—but ninety percent of the collection is now out of my hands.”

“That’s very commendable of you,” she said, visibly appreciative of my enterprise.

“It seemed selfish to keep it all for myself.”

“What of your Viking collection, then?”

A dry smile bent the corner of my lips before I could stop it. “I reserve the right to remain a little selfish.”

“I suppose it’s fine. I’m surprised I’ve never heard the name Westergaard before. You’re so deeply involved in museums, I feel like I should have.”

“I’m not doing this for the glory or the fame. There are entire wings filled with my things, but I’d never demand to have anything named after me. I enjoy my privacy, and it’s not worth being bothered by the media and such.”

She looked around at the silent and empty space, her eyes gliding to the dark emptiness outside. “You’re quite the recluse, yes.”

“I’ve been around people long enough to know I prefer quiet solitude.”

“Should I pitch a tent somewhere outside?” she suggested with a pinch of humor, her eyebrow rising inquisitively. “Would a hundred yards away suffice?”

A chuckle rolled in my chest. “Yuko would have my head.”

“Ah, we’d hate to disappoint her… I guess you’ll have to bear my presence, then.”

“I actually look forward to it.” The instant I’d spoken, I scolded myself internally for letting it slip.

Her gaze quickly looked up from her steaming bowl to meet my eyes. She said nothing, gauging my words to figure out if I’d been genuine. Whatever she concluded was lost on me, as she returned her attention to her dinner instead.

Not another word was spoken while we finished. Once we were done, I took our bowls back to the kitchen and set them in the dishwasher. “If you’d like a dessert, the lowest shelf of the fridge is full of them,” I offered her.

“I’m good, thanks. I’m not much of a dessert person.” That small piece of information piqued my interest, but I fought the urge to ask follow-up questions. Did she not have a sweet tooth at all, or did she prefer to finish on savory rather than sugary?

“Do you want to see the rest of the place?” I suggested.

She agreed to that, so I guided her downstairs again. Her eyes lingered on the glass cases of the gallery as we passed the collection, and the intensity of her passion radiated once more. Through her, I could remember what it felt like to be so vividly interested in something, to have a reason to get up in the morning, a strong drive to keep going… It had been ages since I’d felt that way about anything .

The reappearance of the sword had awakened something in me, but then I’d easily caved in and allowed her to keep it longer. It proved that even this wasn’t enough to trigger a lasting interest. But she might be. If I wasn’t careful enough, she’d become an obsession, one I was bound to lose, eventually.

The level below the collection was more private than the main floor. Down here, I had my personal distractions, with a large flat screen for when I fancied a movie, shelves and shelves filled with countless books, a pool table, and other pricey hobbies that I rarely indulged in. And as always, a view over the land I’d grown up in, the deep fjord where icy water flowed.

Once she’d spent a few minutes with her head tilted to the side, going over a few rows of books, I led her to the adjacent room. The home gym wasn’t very large, but it was well-equipped and more than enough. She went to the treadmill and looked at the electronic board in the front.

“Do you jog often?” I asked, remembering how I’d caught her back from a run the other night.

“Not as often as I wish.”

“Is that because of work?”

“That, and social life, dating life, hobbies… I used to run three times a week when I was in college, to clear my mind and blow off some steam. Now it’s down to once a week, rarely twice.”

“There are a few tracks around the house,” I explained. “If the weather allows it and you want to run outside, let me know. I’ll show them to you.”

“Do you run?”

“Not as often as I wish,” I replied, echoing her words. “But I manage to exercise every day, so I’m not a lost cause entirely.”

Her focus drifted down to my shoulders, my chest, and then lower. Yes, it must have been quite obvious that I spent a fair amount of time in there. Her inspection lingered, and I understood she must have gotten lost in her thoughts, her head slightly tilted to the side as she observed my arms, their powerful shapes revealed by the well-adjusted shirt.

“Shall we go on?” I suggested, shaking her out of it. Embarrassment gained her when she realized she’d been staring, and I bit back a grin.

That chemistry between us was far from being gone. I still wanted her with every cell in me, like I’d rarely wanted anyone before, and it was clear she still wanted me. I almost regretted that she was such a formidable woman, as I wished we could have given in to our baseless needs and fucked until our desires were satiated. But with Mila Connelly, there would be no satiation, no rest, no end. I would only want more, and more, and more, until I was in too deep to retreat, until the only things left were painful memories and sleepless nights.

I showed her the water room next to the gym, and her eyes lit up as she noticed one of the perks. “You have a sauna?” she asked, walking to it.

“Did you develop a fondness for it during your stay in Norway?”

“Yes, I did. I found a good one in London, but I haven’t gone in ages.”

“Well, feel free to use this one whenever you’d like, love. The panel for the commands is right here, and it’s rather easy to use. Let me or Yuko know if you are having difficulties.”

“Thank you, but I can probably manage.”

Once we exited, she turned to a door we hadn’t been through yet. “If I understand the layout properly, this should lead us to the lower floor of your collection, right?” she wondered, pointing to it with her thumb.

“That’s exactly it, Miss Connelly. Do you want us to head there, or do you want to see the lower floor?”

“What’s below us?”

“The garage, heating system, and other necessities.”

“I’d much rather see the collection, then.”

“After you,” I offered with a gesture of my arm toward the door.

Without any hesitation, she complied, probably eager to explore more of the pieces. She had a week to do it all, after all, and for both our sakes, I hoped she’d succeed quickly. I could resist seven days of her, but more than that? Probably not.

Right after I’d flicked the lights on, she looked around the vast room with marvel in her eyes. It was indeed a magnificent sight, and I was particularly proud to have been able to gather so much of my people’s history in one place like this.

“What’s there?” she asked, walking up to another closed door.

My heart dropped before it began hammering in my chest when she reached for the handle. Heat rippled across my skin, my limbs refusing to move as she tried to open it. To my relief, the handle refused to twist, the bolt locked.

“This is a storage room, nothing interesting.”

“Really?” Her clever little head looked at the door and the space around it as she took a few steps back. “It looks huge. Do you keep more of your collection in there?”

“It’s just where we keep the usual mess of a house, love. Every other room in this place is fair game, so it should be enough to satiate your curiosity.” She nodded, her upturned eyes still on the door, her brows slightly furrowed. “I’ve cleared the desk for you over here,” I explained, to distract her away from the door. “You have a pair of gloves, a magnifying glass, and other things you might need.”

I walked her to the other side of the room, where she’d spend more of the upcoming days. “The shutters on the windows must remain shut on sunny days, but feel free to press this button to open them otherwise. The anti-UV treatment will be enough during those days. There’s a card in the drawer where you’ll find Wi-Fi details, which will work everywhere in the house.”

“How much of this can I share with the outside world?”

“Well, the collection is private, but not secret, so you can share some of it with your colleagues, in case you need their help to identify a piece. But I’d rather you didn’t share any of it with the rest of the world. I’m quite fond of my privacy, so I’d like to avoid being harassed by scholars and museums all over.”

“Loaning me things really is the exception to the rule, isn’t it?” she wondered, avoiding my gaze and looking at an ornate arrowhead.

“I suppose it’s only fair that an exceptional woman would get an exception.”

【27】A Massive Clusterf*ck

Ulrik

Her eyes darted to me, doubt and confusion veiling the darkness of her irises. The words had flown out of my lips before I could hold them back. “Don’t say things like that,” she said with authority. “Not when your treatment of me has been so un exceptional.”

Would her bluntness ever stop getting to me like it did? It was refreshing to be around her, to witness her disarming honesty. She didn’t hesitate to voice her true opinion, to admit things others would never voice, to open her thoughts to me. Her strong-mindedness was commendable, and it never failed to reach me hard. She was the kind of person who gave herself entirely, who didn’t hold back, who didn’t shy away from what she wanted. This made her fearless in my eyes, more courageous than so many others.

If I claimed her—or rather, if I won her over—she’d be a wild ride from start to finish. And this was a ride I was eager to experience, despite knowing better.

She cleared her throat, making me realize I’d done nothing but stare at her for a few seconds, so I shook myself out of my thoughts.

Part of me despised the fact that my actions might have made a dent in her confidence and self-worth. This woman ought to know how unbelievably alluring and splendid she was.

“The way I acted in New York isn’t reflective of my appreciation of you,” I impulsively declared. My words unsettled her for an instant, but she swiftly gathered herself.

“I’m a firm believer of actions over words, Mr. Westergaard. And your actions have been loud and clear.”

The way she looked at me was defying, daring, even. The fire that flickered within her was as scorching as ever, its wild flames dancing right behind her eyes. I craved its burn like one might seek an adrenaline spike, like an addict needed their fix. I wanted to be burned by her intensity, to experience the heat of her temperament.

My feet brought me to her without the approval or command of my brain, my body weaker than my mind. With each step I took forward, she took one back. The confidence on her face was replaced by uncertainty again. She jumped slightly when she bumped into the low shelving units in the center of the room, and her eyes rushed to mine, trying to understand what I had in mind. Hell, I didn’t even know myself…

Once I was inches away from her perfect shape and face, I bent forward slightly, which prompted her to lean back. Almost trembling, she looked up at me, her eyelashes fluttering with confusion, her plump lips parting to take in a quick gasp. Caged between me and the counter in her lower back, she didn’t know what to do, where to go. But we both knew she wouldn’t move one inch if she could. This was exactly where she belonged, where she wanted to be.

Her desire to oppose me and remain strong was still there, but, just like my intentions to stay away from her, it was battling with the intense attraction we’d had from the start.

“Miss Connelly, trust that if I were a less disciplined man, my actions would leave no doubt about my appreciation of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her voice was breathy, and her skin was flushed. She was smart enough to know exactly what I meant, so I didn’t bother replying.

Instead, I allowed my hand to reach for the curve of her hip, gliding softly over the thick fabric that covered it. I lowered to whisper the rest in her ear, as if it would make any of this acceptable; as if it was any better than admitting it with my full voice.

The scent of her invaded my nostrils, making me lose a little more of myself. It was both flowery and fruity, and my mind conjured the image of her rolling naked in orange blossoms, her olive skin looking so tanned against the white petals.

“I’ve been dreaming of you, love. Nearly every night since we’ve met. The things I do to you in those dreams…they are naughty, dirty, depraved…” My hand slid to her back, but the counter she was leaning on prevented me from caressing the roundness of her ass. So instead, I kept it flat on her back. “And if I weren’t in control of my actions, I’d be doing all those things to you right now.”

A few seconds passed, charged with lust and need, before she answered, “You’re assuming I’d let you?”

The mere trembling of her voice was enough to tell me she would. She’d let me do all those things to her, and then would ask for more. I chuckled, wondering if she realized how obvious her desire for me was. “I think you would, kjære . I think you’re dying to have me inside of you as much as I am dying to enter you.”

“How presumptuous of you… You’re so… You’re so arrogant, it’s repulsive,” she let out, surely in an attempt to shield herself more than to offend me.

“Is it? Then why aren’t you pushing me away, Mila?”

Her hands rose between us to settle on my chest. Before she could add any pressure to her touch, I caved in and pressed my mouth on the tender skin below her ear. She trembled against me, releasing a shaky breath. Eager to know if she tasted as good as she smelled, my tongue slipped between my lips to sample her skin. Her hands fisted the fabric of my shirt as the taste of her spread on my tongue. No orange blossom there, but her slightly salty savor was even better.

“Please…” she begged, the sweet agony in her voice making me so fucking hard it hurt.

“Please what? Please more? Please stop?”

“Stop… Please stop.” Her hands between us finally pushed against me, as if she’d regained control of herself, breaking through a spell. “I don’t want this,” she insisted, wriggling against me to free herself.

The cracking in her voice acted like a cold shower on me, and I released her right away and took a step back. What the fuck was wrong with me? One second I was reminding myself that I had to stay away from her, and the next I was all over her, ready to fuck her on the furniture if she was willing.

My brows knitted as I looked down at her, wondering how we’d ended up in this situation. She was flushed and breathless, her hands shaking as she passed them through her hair. Once she’d gathered herself, she dared to meet my gaze.

“You told me you were fine with keeping things professional,” she reminded me with murder in her eyes. It had been a lie, one I couldn’t entertain any longer. As much as I wanted to keep things professional, I wasn’t fine with it.

She pushed herself away from the shelves and walked back and forth a few times, doing her best to recompose herself. “I need to know how this will go, right now,” she eventually said, looking at me again. “I’m here for work and only work. Were you genuine when you offered to let me borrow some pieces, or was it some kind of twisted trick to get me here?”

“I was genuine. Take whatever you want.”

“Okay, good.” She scanned the room full of artifacts and priceless antiques, and then turned to me again. “We’re not—We’re not going to fuck,” she bluntly declared. “My work’s too important to get tangled in some sort of…sex thing with you. I can’t risk you changing your mind because things went south.”

As a man of my word, I wouldn’t change my mind, but if she needed that to keep the idea of me at bay, I wouldn’t take it away from her. “That’s fair,” I said instead of correcting her.

“Also, you’re kind of a dick, and I don’t—I’m trying to stay away from assholes at the moment.”

“Ouch… But also fair, I suppose.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“The charming smirks and the mesmerizing eyes, and the…everything,” she concluded after a moment, vaguely gesturing at all of me.

“You want me to…stop being me?”

“It would be very helpful.”

She must have realized the absurdity of her request, because a nervous laugh came out of her. One of my own joined in, and after a moment, we were left with nothing but silence and awkward tension. She broke it first, proving once more that she was remarkably resilient and strong.

“I think I’ll go to bed, actually,” she spoke, taking another look around. “I’ll start this in the morning. Do you have any advice? I don’t know where to even begin.”

I cleared my throat and did my best to sound as professional as she just had. “This wall is Denmark, this one’s Sweden, then upstairs is Norway. That wall over there is anywhere else, Iceland, Greenland, Irak, Mediterranean Sea… And the ones about Haakon are in the gallery.”

“Alright, I’ll start with the gallery, then. Thank you.” She hesitated for a moment, her eyes lifting to mine. “Hmm… Good night, then. I’ll, uh, I suppose I’ll see you in the morning.”

“It’s likely to happen, yes.”

She nodded, still tense, and walked to the stairs after a few more seconds of hesitation. I remained where I stood as she climbed them, keeping my attention on her. She paused to look at the shelves of books behind the protective glass, and then passed the door that led to the gallery.

Once she was out of sight, I let out a long sigh and went to half-sit on the edge of the shelving unit I’d caged her against.

This was a clusterfuck of massive proportions. I’d believed myself able to behave for a week, but I’d already messed up after her first evening here. This woman robbed me of good sense and discipline. With her around, I turned into some primal being with no control whatsoever. And that wasn’t something I was used to, nor something I enjoyed in the slightest. If I didn’t manage to get a hold of myself, everything would spiral into an even bigger mess.

At this point, the best thing to do was to lock myself in my home office all day and do all I could to avoid her. It was the only way I could make sure nothing like this happened again. Staying away from temptation.

I remained in the room for a solid ten minutes, pondering on my actions, trying to figure out what the upcoming week would be like. Maybe I’d find a way to escape this house for a few days, just to make sure there was enough distance between us.

But even halfway around the world, she’d still invade my damned dreams. At least she wouldn’t be at arm’s reach, two doors up the hallway from mine…

Faen, hvordan havnet jeg i denne situasjonen?

【28】Let the Digging Begin

There was no doubt that I’d always done my best to be a strong and independent woman. But it had never felt more true than when I’d pushed Mr. Westergaard away, regardless of how much I’d enjoyed his warm lips on my throat. He’d set me on fire, my insides growing hot and quivering, dying to take what he was offering so shamelessly.

It had taken every single ounce of strength I possessed to rip myself away from his arms, and then to keep my composure and walk away. As soon as I’d been alone in the gallery, though, I’d collapsed against the door, limbs trembling with need, my heart thumping against my ribs.

Fuck, I should have brought Gigi with me, I’d thought to myself.

Then, upon entering my room, I’d felt smarter than I had in a while, praising myself for taking my vibrator with me. I’d anticipated that I might need some bean flicking to appease the tension within me, so I’d packed the toy among my things. A long shower and two orgasms later, I’d slipped into the lush bed, safely tucked under the heavy duvet, the luxurious sheets grazing my overly sensitive skin. Then, I’d tried to call Gigi, but she was either at work or busy, which made me realize I wouldn’t be able to count on her to keep Ulrik Westergaard away.

Sleep had taken forever to arrive, despite the exhaustion of the past couple of days, and I’d stared at the ceiling in the dark room, reliving over and over the moment we’d had. Then I’d heard his footsteps passing by my door, and I’d tensed all over, expecting something to happen. But nothing did, and the sounds of him were gone as swiftly as they’d arrived.

I’d dreamt of him twice since meeting him, and only one had been somehow sexy. To think he’d experienced detailed and naughty dreams of me felt…invasive. And yet, I was jealous of it. If I wouldn’t indulge in real life, I at least wanted to experience his ministrations in my dreams, even if it was all a figment of my imagination.

But as they say, ask and you shall receive…

I woke up the next morning with a shocked jump, fresh out of a very vivid dream where he was fucking me senseless. After a quick do over with my silicon buddy and a brief shower to feel less dirty, I exited my room ready for the day. Or at least, as ready as I’d ever be.

As I walked toward the living area, I could hear voices, one his, low and raspy, and one Yuko’s. But I couldn’t make out their words, and it was only when I reached the kitchen that I understood why. They were speaking in Japanese. It seemed they were having somewhat of an argument with hushed voices, and Yuko had the high ground, scolding him gently. He was seated with his back to me by the high counter separating the kitchen from the rest of the room, and she was on the kitchen’s side, cutting something I couldn’t see.

She noticed me first, and that put their exchange to a swift end. “Miss Mila! Good morning. I hope you sleep well.”

Mr. Westergaard turned to me, his intense cerulean eyes making something flip in my lower stomach. Half an hour ago, those very eyes had invaded my dreams, looking down at me with intensity as he’d ravaged me. Damn, hoping for wet dreams of him had been a terrible idea.

He was wearing an immaculate white shirt, which molded his powerful body to perfection, and a pair of light gray suit pants with shiny brown leather shoes at his feet. Would he leave today to attend a meeting somewhere? Had my wishes been heard, and he had an impromptu business trip planned?

“I did, thank you,” I lied to Yuko, offering her a smile and averting my eyes from him. “How about you?”

“Oh, I sleep so well when it rains. It’s like a… Like a…” As she’d done the day before, she mumbled the word in Japanese.

“Lullaby,” Mr. Westergaard told her.

“Yes, it’s like lullaby.”

“I get that. I feel the same,” I explained with a smile.

There was room for me next to him, with a glass, cutlery, and a cloth napkin, so I forced myself to go there. His plate was already filled with a copious omelet, as well as what seemed to be a salmon tartare with avocado and chive. Once I was seated, Yuko poured a thick fruit smoothie in my glass.

“How you like your eggs?” she asked me.

“A bit runny, please. But I can handle it, if you—”

“No, no, it is my job. And what you drink?”

“Uh, black coffee. As strong as possible.”

She nodded and busied herself with my eggs. Mr. Westergaard got down from his stool with ease and joined her in the kitchen. I sat there, feeling useless, while he handled the fancy coffee maker and she beat the eggs. She was pouring them into a sizzling pan when he came back with a mug of coffee.

“Thank you,” I timidly said when he put it next to me.

“You’re welcome. Feel free to make yourself one whenever.”

I nodded and stared at the swirls and twists of the steam that emanated from my cup, unsure of what to do. “And you, did you sleep well?” I eventually asked, choosing to remain cordial.

“I did, thank you.”

“You told me you had agitated night,” Yuko countered from the stove. “Many dreams, he said.”

I might have thought nothing of it, but the way his eyes widened at her unexpected revelation told me all I needed to know.

I’ve been dreaming of you…

The idea that he might have had all those thoughts and dreams mere hours ago and was now sitting inches from me made my skin hot and my heart restless. Had he been dreaming of me while I’d dreamt of him? Had we been subconsciously fucking each other at the same time?

I barely paid attention to the way he reprimanded her in Japanese, too busy controlling my own reaction.

Oblivious to the chaos she’s just ignited in me, Yuko came to me with a plate just like his, except my omelet was runnier. My appetite was gone, my insides twisted in knots, but I still picked up my fork and forced myself to eat. She then brought a plate full of freshly made waffles, shaped like a six-leaf clover, and went to do the dishes.

I reached for a waffle at the same time he did, and our hands collided. The electric shock was short-lived, and we exchanged an awkward side look. “After you,” he said, gesturing at the plate.

Thankfully, Yuko was among us, humming a pretty tune as she did the dishes. It helped with the heavy silence between us. I ate as fast as I could—faster than him—and then excused myself while I went to brush my teeth. When I came back with my computer bag, ready for the day, he was still at the high counter. His plate was empty, and his attention was on his phone, where he was reading some article.

“You’ll ring a bell when lunch is ready, is that it?” I asked Yuko, who was already starting our next meal.

“Yes, Miss Mila.”

“Just Mila, please.” Mr. Westergaard twisted to send me a look I couldn’t quite read, with his eyebrow cocked up. Did he wish I’d ask the same of him? “Well, I’m off downstairs. Let me know if you need any help, Yuko.”

“I got this. You go to work.”

After a quick nod, I glanced at Mr. Westergaard. “ You let me know if you need help,“ he offered.

“I’ll—I should be fine.” After a few seconds of nothing but intense staring, I willed my feet to take me away from him.

As soon as I reached the gallery below, my thoughts moved on from him, entirely focused on the priceless items exposed. The first thing I did was take another look at everything, slower than I’d done the day before, to get a sense of the pieces’ quality and value. Since his collection had never been cataloged, picking what I wanted would take ten times longer than it should have. Before I could be sure that I wanted to borrow something, I’d have to know their provenance, estimated timeline, and usage.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and when I took it out, I saw Gigi was video calling me. “Hi, sweets!” she greeted me as soon as I picked up, her messy blue hair sticking in every direction.

“Hi, bad sponsor.”

She grimaced at my teasing. “I’m so sorry, just woke up. You called me yesterday? Did you need my anti-Ulrik support?”

“I just wanted to talk. I’m doing okay on that part,” I lied. She moved around a bit, and I noticed she was naked under the sheets, and those weren’t hers. “Where are you? This isn’t your—”

“Who is it?” someone asked off-screen.

“I’m calling Mila. Give me a minute.”

“Is it…Vick?” I asked after it seemed the person was out of the room.

Gigi did a childish pout, like a kid who’d been caught doing something wrong. “Yes.”

“I thought you wanted to take things slowly,” I reminded her with a grin.

“We did. I did. But… Well, stuff happened, and now I suppose we’re officially dating.”

“Have you two talked about it?”

“We have. Vick definitely wants to give this a try, and so do I.”

“It sounds lovely, babe.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Like a teen with a big crush, she pressed a hand on her face, clearly overwhelmed but happy.

“Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

“I don’t want to go,” she whined. “I want to spend the whole day in Vick’s bed.”

“Tsk, tsk… Your restaurant, your responsibility, young lady.”

“I’m four years older than you.”

“Not in the head.”

“Sod off, twat.”

“I’d tell you to get fucked, but Vick took care of that.”

“They did. Oh my God, they so did…”

“So, it was nice?”

“Very. You should try slapping bits with someone who knows what they are doing. It’s a whole other thing.” I thought of the man upstairs, and all the dirty things he wanted to do to me. Something told me it wasn’t all talk, and he would know exactly where to press, graze, push, and how hard, how fast, for how long…

“Earth to Jamila!” Gigi called out. When I looked at the screen again, she smiled knowingly. “Didn’t you just say you were doing good on the anti-Ulrik thing?”

“I am. It’s just—I need to get used to being here.”

“How’s it, by the way? It looks gorgeous.” I pushed the phone away from my face and did a 360 so she could see the room. “Damn, is it his collection?”

“A small part of it.”

“Holy shit… You’ll be there for three weeks, sweets!”

“I hope not. Can you imagine?”

“You’d fail so hard at not fucking him.”

I glared at her, unamused. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Gi.”

“Honestly, I’m amazed nothing’s happened yet. I could see sparks flying all over last time at the restaurant.”

She knew me so well that I worried that whatever I’d say might betray that something had indeed happened. Luckily for me, the solution to get out of this appeared on top of my screen. “Henry’s calling. I need to take this. Talk to you later, babe.”

Before she could reply, I hung up and took Henry’s call. After some quick chitchat, I told him about the extent of the collection here, and how I’d probably need his help to identify some pieces’ origins and dates. On his side, he’d keep looking into the sword we had, but would also have to work on other projects, as he’d neglected everything else for a few days now. That meant he’d take longer to crack the sword’s secrets, but it was okay. I’d dive back into it as soon as I headed back to London.

Since it was relevant to my conversation with Henry, I then called Ian. He, too, would have valuable input, and we agreed to me creating a working message group with him, Ingrid, Henry, and me. That way, anytime I was struggling with an item, I’d share it there and get their expert opinions.

【29】Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner

Once I was done with all my calls, nearly an hour had gone by already. So, to make up for lost time, I jumped right into work. With my tablet, I went over everything and photographed the cases and what lay within, with as many details as I could. After I’d photographed everything, I headed to the reserve, where a desk had been set up for me. I did my best to ignore the counter Mr. Westergaard had trapped me against the evening before, dismissing the warmth that spread in me as memories flashed in my head, and settled on the desk. I plugged in my computer, set up my tablet, and took out a notepad and a pen.

I was done preparing my working space when my eyes drifted to the other side of the room. I’d tried to open it the day before, curious to see what was behind it, only to find it locked. I might have thought nothing of it, since it wasn’t that strange to have a locked door, but between his reaction and the fact that nothing else was as protected as whatever was in there, I suspected it hosted more than “the usual mess of a house.”

Even the glass cases in the gallery didn’t have any sort of bolt, and everything in here was free to access. But for some reason, the messy stuff got locked? No, there was something else in there. But what?

Because suspense was eating me from within, I rose from my chair and went to check if the door was still locked. To my disappointment, it was, so I stared at it for a brief moment, trying to figure out what might be in there. Was it another kind of collection? One more taboo, one he didn’t want me to know about? Was it his sex dungeon or something kinky like that? Or maybe something embarrassing, like a massive collection of creepy dolls that he wanted to keep secret?

Deciding I’d wasted enough time as it was, I abandoned the door and the mystery kept behind it, and returned to the desk. I spent the next few hours going over the photographs I’d taken in the gallery and organizing them on an online sheet, adding extensive notes along with the pictures. Some things were easy to identify, their material, century of origin, functions… But some stuff was proving harder to figure out. If my work group wasn’t of any help with those, I’d ask Mr. Westergaard.

Since he never came down there to check on me or make sure I wasn’t destroying anything, I assumed my theory upon seeing him had been right. He must have left the house to attend some meeting somewhere, leaving me alone with Yuko. That knowledge allowed me to relax a little, and I eventually stopped jumping at every sound I heard. If something happened like the day before, only God knew if I’d have the strength to refuse his advances again. Gigi’s theory that I needed a man in the flesh and not a sex toy was right, and unluckily for me, I couldn’t remember anything of the stranger I’d welcomed in my bed mere days ago. That meant I was longing for the real thing, starving for his body to wreck mine until I passed out from exhaustion and too much pleasure.

I was so absorbed and lost in it that it felt like only half an hour had gone by when the lunch bell chimed, four hours after I’d gone down there. I’d cataloged maybe a third of the gallery’s items, and my estimations on a few of them had yet to be confirmed by Ian.

As soon as I finished writing down my theories for the piece I was working on, I left everything but my phone behind and climbed up the stairs. I could smell whatever Yuko had prepared all the way from the gallery, and my mouth began salivating. Just as I reached the main floor, the door to Mr. Westergaard’s office opened.

I halted where I stood, my gaze darting to it. He was coming out of it, still dressed like a proper—and edible—businessman of high means. Did he honestly dress that well, even for this? When I’d worked from home during the Covid confinements, I hadn’t bothered getting out of my pajamas on most days, slipping on a suitable top whenever we had a video call planned. He was, indeed, a very disciplined man, wasn’t he? This impeccable house, his attire, his workout routine… Everything about him screamed rigor and control.

But not when it came to me, for some reason…

He had a brief moment of pause when he saw me too, and after a couple of seconds, we looked away from one another to head to the dinner table. There was a roasted chicken in the middle of it, as well as green beans and creamy mashed potatoes with a knob of melted butter on top of it. It looked delicious and smelled even better.

We sat in the same positions we had the evening before, and Yuko joined us with a large knife and a fork. “Won’t you be eating with us?” I asked her as she began cutting the chicken.

“No, I eat at home after.”

“Not on my request,” Mr. Westergaard felt compelled to specify. They exchanged a charged look, which told me there was more to this.

Once she was done slicing the chicken into several pieces, she left it in the middle of the table and returned to the kitchen. There, she went to a room in the back and came out with her things.

“I will see you later,” she greeted us as she passed by the table. Silently, we watched as she headed to the front door and left through it.

“I think she’s lost her appetite and doesn’t want me to notice,” he explained in a sour tone. He picked up the tongs and used them to take a serving of green beans. Since he waited with it midair, I understood he wanted to serve me.

“You two normally eat together?” I asked, bringing my plate forward.

“We used to, although I ate from my desk more often than not. But she’s been finding excuses to eat alone for a couple of months now.”

I took care of serving us the mashed potatoes. “I remember when my uncle was undergoing chemo. He was sick for a whole week afterward, and then he didn’t feel like eating.”

“Did he get better?”

I grimaced, realizing this might not have been the most suitable piece of information. “He didn’t make it, gone in six months. But it was stage four bone cancer, so his odds weren’t looking good from the beginning.”

After he’d asked which piece I preferred, he gave me one of the chicken’s breasts and took a leg for himself. “Have you found anything worthy of your exhibition so far?” he asked as we started eating.

“I’ve barely gone over your collection, but I already have a few things in mind, yes. I’ll need a shipping container by the time I’m done, so everything can fit,” I half-joked.

“You’re going to rob me blind, aren’t you?” There was a ghost of a smile lingering on his face.

“I promise I’ll try to be reasonable. But regardless of what I take, I feel privileged to be able to go through all those. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Westergaard.”

“I’ve stopped counting how many times I’ve asked, but please, call me Ulrik. The alternative is so…formal and cold.”

“I know,” I admitted. “That’s why I keep calling you that. It’s–it’s better this way.” Feeling like a coward, all of a sudden, I stared at my plate instead of at him.

“I meant to apologize for my behavior yesterday,” he said after a moment, sounding as tense as I was. “It was never my intention to act on my impulses. I promise I’ve tried not to. But it seems I can’t think straight when you’re around, and it got the best of me.”

The vulnerability in his voice compelled me to share my own weakness where he was concerned. “Well, that’s something we’ve got in common. It’s like my mind knows better, but something in me refuses to listen.”

“That’s exactly it, yes,” he agreed with a humorless chuckle. “But from now on, trust that I’ll keep myself in check. I don’t want you to be threatened by my behavior and feel the need to leave before your work here is done, love.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you.” We ate in silence for a few minutes as I mustered the courage to make one last request. “I will call you Ulrik if you stop calling me ‘love,’” I offered, my voice slightly trembling as I did.

It made him smile, an ironic, self-deprecating kind of smile. “Can I call you Mila, then?”

I nodded, chewing on a piece of chicken. He mumbled, “Finally,” and shook his head with amusement.

When he wasn’t acting like a dick, he was very endearing. Once more, the duality of this man was confusing, tearing my mind in two opposite directions. One side of him was easy to keep away and stay away from, but the other pulled me in like a magnet.

“Maybe—” I started before stopping, realizing I was fooling myself again. I wanted to suggest that once I was done here, he could take me out on a date in London if he wanted, but that wasn’t a good idea. I wasn’t sure he desired anything other than mind-blowing sex, so it was better not to give him any ideas that I could be won over.

“Maybe…?” he wondered, wanting to know what I’d been about to say.

“Maybe this should be the extent of our interactions while I’m here. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

He froze for an instant, his fork with two beans and a piece of chicken halfway to his mouth. “Maybe, yes,” he approved before slipping his forkful between his lips.

“And, of course, I might ask for your input on some of the more elusive pieces downstairs. Maybe you’ll know more about them than I can guess on my own.”

“Certainly, yes. Let me know if you need my help with anything, Mila .”

“I will, thank you, Ulrik .” I saw the way his name on my lips affected him, his blue eyes turning darker for a swift instant.

Despite the maturity of our interaction and how well we’d communicated our ongoing issue, it was still right there, so obvious I could sense it in the air that surrounded us. We could agree to whatever we wanted and act like we were in control, but we still craved to fuck each other’s brains out.

At this point, I had no idea if our little chat would actually work, or if it was just another way we were fooling ourselves. Maybe we were destined to have sex, destined to grow feelings and fail at staying apart. It certainly felt like it, since even right now, I wanted nothing more than to bend over the table and pull him my way. He was too alluring, too mysterious, too… himself.

It was as though the man had been engineered just for me, both physically and mentally. Yes, he was pompous and arrogant at times, but damn, his assurance worked like a charm on me. After all the half-wit losers I’d known before him, it was hard for me to refuse a man who had his life sorted and wasn’t a walking mess, a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

And this very man wanted me . With every bone in his body, it seemed.

How was I supposed to resist him?

[You can read further into the story on YONDER, the next-generation reading app from the Wattpad family, as it is more advanced there.]

【30】Rainy Days

My natural curiosity had always been an asset in my line of work. My strong inclination to seek out the truth and understand the past had played in my favor, bringing me to the position I now occupied at the museum.

But as it turned out, it was a real curse when it came to the Westergaard collection. I didn’t have to examine in thorough detail every single piece of it, but I needed to, out of some fear-of-missing-out crap I couldn’t shake.

Getting to explore this collection was the opportunity of a lifetime, and I wanted to make sure I’d get everything out of it. To think that those pieces had rarely been seen before was making it feel so exclusive, so privileged, and I couldn’t get that feeling out of my head.

As a result, it took me two entire days to finish the inventory of the pieces from the gallery. Which, as Mr. Westergaard— Ulrik —had said, was only the tip of the iceberg. At this rate, I’d need three weeks to go over it all, and that wasn’t good. Not only did I have to go back to London and to work, I also needed to get away from this place and its very tempting owner.

Just like we’d agreed, our interactions were limited to the meals we shared. I saw him three times a day, and that was it. I’d stumbled on him on my second day of work when I’d gone up to make myself a coffee, but other than that, we hadn’t interacted outside of breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

In real life, at least, because he populated my dreams at night. It seemed the original wet dream had only been a start, and many more of those had tortured me the night that had followed.

On the third morning at the estate, I woke up at dawn with a start, panting and humid with sweat, wishing I could go back to sleep so dream-Ulrik could finish what he’d started, but unable to. I was too excited, too awake for that. Masturbating like a lunatic was of no help to keep those dreams at bay, and I didn’t know what to do anymore.

Understandably, three nights like this had left me frustrated and full of pent-up energy. All of it just needed out. Preferably while riding Ulrik’s dashing face, but a good run could also work. I forced myself out of bed and opened the shutters, only to realize I wouldn’t need to head downstairs to the home gym, where I’d risk encountering my alluring host. To my delight, the rain had stopped and the clouds had dissipated, leaving nothing but blue sky and clear air.

I changed into my running outfit, adding an extra layer for warmth, not fooled by the unexpected good weather. The sun might have been rising on the horizon, but I knew it would still be much colder than what I was used to in London. It was too early for anyone to be up, so I met no one on my way out of the house. As expected, the air was cold outside, and I reminded myself to look out for ice patches. A quick check of the satellite imagery of the area helped me find a suitable track, and with my phone strapped to my arm, I began my run.

Everything was wet, the dead leaves of autumn soft under my shoes, and the scent of the rain still permeated the air. It was so good to be out in the open, rather than fearing for my life every time I crossed a street in London, I hadn’t bothered with my earbuds, so I could hear the sounds of nature.

The exercise felt great, not as much as staying in bed with my vibrator, but I already knew it would be more efficient at soothing my nerves and taming my libido. Being stuck in a house with him would only make things worse, whereas this little outing would help clear my mind and unclog my thoughts.

A little under an hour later, I was on my way back to the house, sweating under my warm clothes, impatient to get into the shower. Although I’d been in the dense forest of the estate for most of my run, I’d still caught some splendid views of the fjord whenever there was a clearing. Since then, the sky had turned darker, though. The clouds were back for another round of rain, so I hastened my pace to reach the house before it began.

Because of the impending rain, everything had stilled around me, the birds weren’t chirping, and the wind had stopped blowing. The atmosphere which I’d found so refreshing upon leaving the house was now heavy and charged with darkness, making me feel uncomfortable. Light flashed inside the dark clouds, and thunder echoed seconds later, scaring a bunch of crows nesting in a tree near me. Everything had turned extremely gloomy in a matter of minutes, and now I wanted nothing more than to be back at the house.

But it could always get worse, I realized… A branch cracked behind me, startling me, and when I twisted my neck, the sound of running footsteps came to my ears.

I wasn’t alone. Someone was following me. Someone was running after me, even.

My heart launched itself in a wild beat, a combination of effort and fright. With a knot in my throat, I ran faster, wishing I hadn’t gone so far from the house.

All of a sudden, a man three times my size appeared in the middle of the track, holding an ax and looking dreadfully threatening with his large beard and tall frame. He turned to me, his expression unreadable, and I let out a scared cry. In my haste to stop my course before I ran right into him, my feet slipped on the wet layer of leaves and I fell back with another squeal.

Immediately after I’d hit the ground with the side of my body, slamming my hip on a protruding root, the man lowered his ax and came my way with long and quick steps.

“Går det bra med deg?” he asked in Norwegian. Are you alright? There were no traces of malice in his tone, nothing to indicate he had ill intents toward me, so I felt stupid for my reaction to his appearance.

“Yes, I think I’m fine,” I replied in the same language.

He offered his hand to help me up, but before I could take it, a third person joined the humiliating scene. The one I’d heard running behind me. Ulrik .

“What happened?” he asked, squatting to inspect me. He was wearing a pair of dark jogging pants and a light gray hoodie. My face warmed up at his closeness, as well as the embarrassment I was experiencing.

“Nothing, I just fell.”

“The tracks are slippery,” the bearded stranger explained with his native tongue.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I think I just hit my hip a bit hard,” I answered Ulrik, flattening a hand over the area, which was still rippling with heated pain. Ew, it was wet and dirty from the humid ground. Both men helped me up, and as I put weight on my feet, a flash of pain spread into my ankle. “And maybe I twisted my ankle,” I continued with a grimace.

“Can you go get the buggy?” Ulrik asked the stranger, whom I now suspected was Jakob, the handyman who handled the estate. It was the first time I was hearing him speak in Norwegian, and it did things to me. But what didn’t, with this man?

“I can walk,” I objected.

“Not on a sprained ankle. You’ll only make it worse.”

“I’ll go get the buggy,” Jakob asserted. With a neat and practiced gesture, he went to plant his ax in a mossy tree stump and followed the path at a moderate trot, which must have been his best, given his size.

“I promise I can walk. It’s not a sprain, it’s just…tender,” I told Ulrik, twisting my ankle to test it.

“Still, better safe than sorry.”

The sky chose this exact moment to crack in more loud thunder. Soon after, small drops of rain began to fall around us, ticking as they fell on the leaves and branches. He looked around at the scene with an unamused glare.

“Maybe we could start walking, so we’ll get to the buggy faster,” I suggested.

“Should I carry you?”

“Definitely not. It’s not sprained. My hip hurts more, actually.” He pinched his lips, dissatisfied with my answer. He wanted to act like a white knight in shining armor, didn’t he? Well, I wasn’t a damsel in distress. It had never been my style, nor would it ever be.

Not waiting for his approval, I patted my dirty leggings to remove the residue of leaves and began walking down the path Jakob had taken. The rain wasn’t intense yet, but we were nearing freezing temperature, so between the icy drops and the fact that we weren’t exercising anymore, we had to keep moving or we’d freeze to death.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” Ulrik insisted, catching up with me easily.

I nodded, refusing to give him an excuse to haul me over his shoulder or something. I was barely limping, trying not to put too much weight on my foot, in case it was worse than I thought.

【31】Just Ignore It

“I don’t remember when the last time we had such a rainy November was,” he randomly said after a few minutes of silent walking.

“The weather, really?”

He chuckled at my cynicism. “I don’t know what else to talk about with you without getting… overly absorbed.”

I thought about it for a moment, and then asked, “What do you do for a living? What’s the family business?”

“Well, that’s a complicated answer. I have real estate a little all over, mostly in Norway, the UK, and the US. But I don’t handle that side of the Westergaard empire. I just reap the benefits.”

“Why don’t you?”

“It bores me to death. I much prefer running the investment company.”

“What do you invest in?”

“A bit of everything. I enjoy finding small startups and whatnots that have great ideas but little means, and help them grow. I have shares and investments in thousands of companies and projects all around the world. Some are very profitable, some not, but if I believe in what they are doing, I’ll keep supporting them.”

“Do I know some of them?”

“Certainly, yes. Anything big on the internet has had some Westergaard money when they first started seeking out investors. Most major tech companies too, as well as some big pharma. That’s the very profitable side of the business. Then there are things like Bimpe’s Canteen, which you’ve surely never heard of.”

“What is that?” I asked with a confused smile, amused by his playful tone.

“It’s a restaurant in Nigeria, one of the latest projects I’ve worked on. This one’s pro bono—I’m not expecting anything in return.”

“What’s special about it?”

“Bimpe, who is a lovely mother of four, opened a restaurant in Abuja three years ago. She lost her husband fifteen years prior and has gone through many struggles after that. When she got the funds she needed to open her dream restaurant, she vowed to help others. And now, people help her do that. She gets discounted products, crates of unsold goods, food donations…and for every meal someone purchases in her restaurant, she offers one to someone in need. Also, she’s a splendid cook, so it’s become extremely popular.”

“Have you tried it?”

“I have, yes. I flew there last month to meet her and witness all the good she’s doing. With my help, she’ll open three more restaurants like this one, and help even more people.”

Despite the heartwarming conversation, I was shivering. Between the intensifying rain and the sweat, I was drenched. “You should head back,” I offered, wiping my face with my sleeve, which didn’t do much. “There’s no need for us both to catch our death.”

“I’m not abandoning you injured in the middle of nowhere, Mila.”

“It’s okay. Jakob will be there soon enough.”

“I’m staying.”

I held back a roll of my eyes, annoyed that he’d stay here rather than be pragmatic. For both our sakes, I walked a little faster, minding my sore ankle. In all truth, it was better for me to have him along. Had he not been there, I might have abandoned and lay on the ground in a tight ball. I was so cold, I could barely feel my extremities anymore.

“I don’t think many businessmen have a range that goes from the Silicon Valley to Bimpe’s Canteen,” I pointed out as we reached a clearing.

“I don’t care for money much.”

“That’s because you have loads of it.”

“Maybe,” he laughed. He then shook his head, ridding himself of some of the water in his hair and face. “I find it so inconsequential, in the grand scheme of things. I’d much rather use it for good than keep it all in a bank account in Zurich.”

“And look at you, having your cake and eating it too…”

“Well, I’m trying to spend it faster than I’m making it, but it’s proving rather hard. I’m too good an investor; the dividends just keep coming.”

This time, I didn’t hesitate to roll my eyes. “You poor thing.”

“I think you mean ‘You rich thing,’” he humored.

“You cocky thing is more like—” My weakened ankle did me dirty, making me nearly fall again. Thankfully, he had quick reflexes, and as I instinctively reached for his arm, he grabbed me firmly, preventing my fall.

“You’ve had enough falling for today, Mila,” he scolded me.

“I’m not doing it on purpose.” A little annoyed, I made the mistake of looking up.

Right against him like this, with his heat seeping into my shivering limbs, I found him more gorgeous than I ever had. The rain had darkened his hair, droplets running down his stunning features. His sweatshirt was as drenched as the rest of us, rippling over his muscular upper body so tightly that I could see everything, even the two small beads low on his pecs, erected just like my nipples must have been given the temperature.

I stared up at him, feeling warm for the first time since we’d started walking together. This was the Ulrik I couldn’t resist, the candid one who stayed with me despite the bad weather, the one who shared things about himself, the one who helped a woman accomplish her dreams in a country that so many others would discard. This wasn’t seductive-Ulrik or asshole-Ulrik. This was open-heart-Ulrik, and it was my favorite of them all.

As we stood there, unable to do anything other than stare at each other, I cursed my decision to go on a run. I cursed the damned rain, cursed his stupidly attractive face, and cursed the kindness he was showing. I didn’t want to crave his lips as much as I did, but there I was, wishing nothing more than him lowering and claiming me in the middle of this icy storm, lost somewhere on his estate.

It seemed he was undergoing the same insufferable conflict, with his brows knitted together, making him look so grave and serious. He’d promised he’d keep himself in check, but right now, he was battling with himself not to act on his impulses.

A drop slid down my cheek and onto my lips, and I mindlessly got rid of it with my tongue. His eyes darkened at the sight, his hand on my hip, which hadn’t left since he’d caught me, tightened. The instant I read the “Fuck it,” on his face, the precise second he began his descent, a sound came to my left. He heard it too and released me with a low curse.

I turned toward the sound and saw it was Jakob; back with the buggy. The small vehicle was more or less an electric cross-country golf cart, narrow enough to come through this path, contrary to a regular car. Side by side, we hurried to it, acting as though we hadn’t just had a moment.

“Sorry, I did as fast as I could,” Jakob apologized in Norwegian once we’d reached him.

With widened eyes, I stared at the inside of the small buggy. There was only one bench in the front, and while three of me might fit on it, it could barely hold two of them. “I—What—”

“Yes, you’re going to have to sit on my lap, kjære ,” Ulrik explained with visible frustration. He lowered to sit on the cushioned bench and then looked up at me. I sent him a dark glare, aware that he’d probably known that from the beginning. He cocked a brow at me, slightly amused by my reaction. “Would you rather we leave Jakob behind, fending for himself?”

“Of course not.”

“Then maybe you’d rather I drive and you sit on his lap?” I gave him another scowl, tempted to accept just to spite him. He cunningly wanted me to admit that I’d rather sit on him than another man. But I wouldn’t say it; not when my hand was forced like this.

“Or I drive, and you sit on his lap,” I suggested. Jakob laughed next to him, showing that even if he hadn’t spoken English yet, he understood it.

They exchanged an amused glance, and then Ulrik turned to me again. “Would you just sit on me, Mila?”

Irritated, I bent to whisper my reply in his ear, so our savior wouldn’t hear it. “I’ve been hoping for your face, but your lap will have to do.”

I could fire some shots, too.

Before he could even react, I climbed into the car, and then sat right on his lap, as far as I could from him so my ass wasn’t right against his crotch. But the space was tiny, and there wasn’t much room for anything—especially when he took most of it with his large body. At least, I wasn’t feeling as cold anymore, not when I was sitting right on top of the man I’d been restlessly dreaming of fucking.

Jakob turned us around in a few seconds, and then we were speeding our way through the forest. The car might be electric, the weather and the uneven road prevented us from talking, unless we were willing to repeat ourselves several times over. Because of the opened sides, the rain still reached me , but I could barely feel it, too absorbed by the man under me. The one I was doing my best to stay away from.

My retreated position didn’t allow for much stability, alas, so when the buggy bumped into a rock, I was nearly ejected out of the vehicle. Ulrik’s strong hands prevented it, though, swiftly grabbing me and pressing me onto him.

I froze in absolute shock.

While his right hand had reached for my hip, the left one had aimed for my thigh. For a few short but intense seconds, his fingers were digging into the skin high on my inner thigh, his index barely an inch from the heated space between my legs. It was enough to send a jolt right to my clit, making me shiver over him.

I sensed his groan as he released me, his hands leaving me to rest elsewhere. But the relief was short-lived. In his effort to save me, he’d shoved me right against him. And unless he’d somehow brought a cucumber with him on his run, there was a very warm, very substantial erection lodged right against my behind. Between the wet and thin fabric of my leggings, and the one from his jogging pants, I could feel it very accurately.

It definitely wasn’t a cucumber.

Heat flashed across my cheeks, radiating over my entire skin. It didn’t matter if I was covered in near-freezing rain anymore. All I could sense was warmth. His and mine.

Too overwhelmed by the situation, I tried squirming away from it, preferring to be thrown out of the buggy than stay right against it . But he prevented my escape, holding my hips firmly.

“Just try to ignore it,” he mumbled behind me.

“I can’t ignore it,” I whispered back. “It’s the size of Tex—”

“Stop talking and wriggling around, or it’ll get worse.”

I shut my mouth instantly, which made my teeth snap. I most definitely didn’t want any of it to get worse.

Or…

No, I didn’t. No, no, no.

How had I gotten into this position? Literally, my only goal with this outing had been to release all the pent-up frustration this man had given me. The one thing I’d wanted to achieve. But now, I was sitting right on top of him, his hard-on digging into my ass through our clothes, the messy road making me bounce slightly over him with every dent and bump.

This was, without a single doubt, the worst, most backfiring plot twist of my life. I’d get back hornier than I’d ever been, with a bruised hip, a crushed ego, and maybe a sprained ankle.

And worst of all, I now had a relatively good idea of the size of Ulrik’s dick—which my subconscious had severely misjudged. Oh, God… That was information I hadn’t needed. Not one bit.

But maybe a small, tiny part of me was delighted to know. The part of me that loved these dreams, the part that craved his attention, the part that reveled in knowing that sitting on him like this was enough to make him hard.

This part, I was afraid, was more and more likely to win. Especially since the part that was professional and reasonable liked him more with every interaction.

【32】Peas & Tea

Ever since I’d gotten to the estate, I’d done my best to avoid Ulrik Westergaard’s path. It was pretty clear that I’d rather not be near him if I could prevent it, given how unpredictable things were between us.

But it was nothing compared to the way I would avoid him now .

After the eight-minute drive back to the house, with his erected length stuck between us, I couldn’t even look him in the eye. Not when I’d been sitting there, growing wetter by the minute, so horny I had to stop myself from undulating on top of him. Thank God Jakob had been right there, unknowingly forcing us to behave.

Once he’d dropped us by the main door, I’d exchanged a very awkward, very conflicted look with Ulrik, and then had skedaddled to my room like a coward. The fact that I wasn’t even cold anymore, when I’d been chilled to the bones just before the ride, was clear proof of my inner turmoil and acute arousal. Nothing was fixed and everything was worse.

Following a warm shower and a very special use of the fancy showerhead, I went to pick my outfit of the day, regretting how professional all of my clothes were. After all this mess, I wanted to spend the rest of the day in sweatpants and a T-shirt, not in pegged pants and a silk shirt. Someone knocked on the door just as I was done selecting my ensemble, so I secured my towel under my arms and went to check it.

I cracked the door open, only to see it was Ulrik. He seemed surprised to find me with a towel wrapped around me and another around my hair, as he averted his eyes quickly. Although he was dressed, he was just out of the shower as well, his hair still wet and his scent fresh and clean.

“I wanted to check on you, to make sure your ankle doesn’t need professional intervention.”

“It’s really fine. I can barely feel it anymore,” I insisted.

His eyes met mine, slightly defiant. “I can come back when you’re dressed, but it would put me at ease if I could make sure of it myself.”

While his intentions were good, it was annoying that he refused to believe that I knew my body enough to recognize it wasn’t a sprain. With a bothered sigh, I opened the door wider and went to sit on the bed, making sure my towel didn’t reveal anything. With a frustrated pout on my lips, I extended my “injured” foot toward him, flattening my hands on the cover behind me, leaning back for comfort.

Without a word, he made his way into the room, and then kneeled before me. With delicate hands, he grabbed my foot, which sent a small shiver up my leg. I did my best to keep my thighs tightly closed, for fear he might see right up my intimacy, and watched as he gently squeezed the tender area and twisted my foot.

“Aren’t we supposed to only meet during meals?” I reminded him.

“These are special circumstances, I’d say.”

His fingers slowly slid higher on my calf as he angled my foot in a different direction, and the intensity of the shiver he triggered had me jolt a little.

“Did that hurt?” he asked, evidently worried. Our eyes connected, and it was clear that I wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by the sensuality of the moment. His hands on my bare leg, as I sat almost naked before him, were taking my mind away from any potential injury.

“No, it didn’t.”

My bold admission took him by surprise, and I regretted my words right away. With the way his pupils doubled in size, I guessed he’d understood what had happened to me. His wandering hand became more adventurous as he kept his hold on my foot. When he reached the sensitive skin behind my knee, I squirmed again on the bed.

“I don’t think any ankle injury would require you to check that high,” I pointed out, troubled by how sultry my voice sounded.

“I had in mind to inspect your hip, kjære .”

“It’s on the other side, then.”

More of the blue of his irises was eaten away by darkness, and I waited with bated breath for his next move. I didn’t know if I wanted him to drag his hands all the way to my hip, way under my towel. Actually, I knew I wanted it, but I wasn’t sure the sex that would undoubtedly ensue was such a good idea. Because if he grazed his way up my thigh, I would break and pull him in with my legs, to ravish him with the kiss I was dying to give.

In barely three days here, I’d forgotten why I couldn’t sleep with him, completely dismissing all the very sensible and clever arguments I’d come up with in the past. The man had brainwashed me without even trying.

Slowly, he lowered my foot, so it rested on the ground, and then his focus shifted to the other side. His hand reached for my heel, his expression unreadable. But instead of lifting my leg and getting on with it, he stared at it emptily, his eyebrows twitching subtly.

Whatever was going on in his mind, the winning side disappointed me. Releasing my foot, he stood up with his natural grace. “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about for your ankle,” he concluded, taking a step back.

“I know. I’ve been telling you this.”

“Well, by now you must have realized I am a stubborn man. Apologies for the interruption.”

With that, he exited the room and closed the door behind, leaving me a little disoriented, alone on the bed in my towel. Given how gutted I was that this had led to nothing, it was probably a good time to call Gigi. So, as I got dressed for the day, I called my adored sponsor, hoping she’d manage to knock some sense into me.

Surprisingly, she did.

Even though I suspected she was rooting for me to fail and have sex with Ulrik, she did her best to remind me why the cons of sleeping with my host didn’t outweigh the pros. What kind of life could we expect if we caught feelings? And what if we did and things ended poorly, ruining the professional opportunity he offered? What if it all went to shit before the Museum had signed the contract to borrow the pieces? I’d have to cancel my exhibition, or at least delay it, expecting it to be a lot less interesting than what I had in mind.

But mostly, him being all charming, seductive, and touching now didn’t explain why he’d suddenly decided I wasn’t worth it, back in New York. Now that I was dangling under his nose again, he might be reconsidering and seeing this as an opportunity to get an easy and quick fuck, since I was so obviously up for it.

Once I was ready, body and mind, I headed to the kitchen where I inhaled my breakfast so I’d remain next to him for as little time as possible. Yuko was very sympathetic to my misadventure, and she fetched me a bag of frozen peas for my ankle. It was barely hurting anymore, contrary to my hip, but I didn’t have the heart to refuse it. Not when she was being so considerate and sweet.

So, with my peas and what was left of my dignity, I made my way downstairs, ready for my third day of work. Today, I was beginning my inspection of the items in the reserve, and if I didn’t find a way to work faster, I’d barely get to scratch the surface. As I’d done for the gallery, I picked a shelving unit and photographed everything on it, sometimes picking up a piece with a gloved hand to inspect it further.

Once I was done with all the pictures I’d need, I went to my desk, happy to get to rest my foot. With my ankle propped up on a stool and the bag of frozen peas on top of it, I cataloged the items I’d snapped. An hour in, my focus was disturbed by someone entering the room. From where I sat, I watched Yuko come down the stairs, carefully holding a tray. With a genuine smile, she came all the way to me and settled it by my side. There was a teapot with a matching cup with it, as well as sugar cookies that seemed homemade.

“It looks delicious. Thank you so much,” I told her with a grin. She’d never brought me tea down here before, and I wasn’t sure if it was out of the kindness of her heart, or if Ulrik had sent her.

“No problem. You good?”

“I am, yes. The peas definitely helped.”

She reached for the bag that was now at room temperature, dismissed on the stool. She offered me a wink. “Hope you like pea soup.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever tried it, actually.”

“It’s very good, you’ll like it.”

“Probably love it, even. I’ve enjoyed everything you’ve cooked so far, after all.”

“I always been a good cook. It’s the reason he keep me around.” While her tone was humorous, I sensed some part of truth in it. It compelled me to reassure her.

“I’m sure he’d keep you even if you weren’t. He told me you’ve worked for his family since you were fourteen, right?”

“Hm, I was a young and foolish girl, then.”

“So he’s known you his whole life. From the way he speaks of you, I can tell he’s very fond of you.”

“I’m fond of him, too. He a good man.”

“I suppose he is,” I mumbled, grabbing a cookie and chewing on it for a moment. “How was he as a child? He’s so serious all the time, I can barely imagine he used to be young.”

“It’s hard for me, too. He was…happier. And not as serious.”

“I imagine his parents’ deaths changed that.”

She nodded with a vague “Mhmm,” dragging a finger over a surface to inspect its cleanliness. She rolled the tip of her index with her thumb’s, and then decided it was to her standard, nodding silently. “I let you work now. Tell me if you need things.”

“I will. Thank you again for the tea and the cookies.”

“Of course, Miss Mila. Mister said to take extra good care of you, but I would have bring it even if not.”

“That’s very kind of you, Yuko. Let me know if you need help with anything upstairs.”

“No, you rest your foot. You no move. I will bring you a plate here for lunch.”

Before I could argue that I was fine coming upstairs, she turned around to the stairs and my phone rang at the same time. It was Ian calling, and if I wasn’t mistaken, it would be about the last batch of items I’d sent him the afternoon before, in need of his expertise.

I picked up, watching Yuko make her way up the stairs. “Hey, boss.”

“’Morning lass. How’s life in paradise going?”

“Frustratingly.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, there are just so many things… I won’t have time to go over it all in a week.”

“Well, that’s fine. Ye can always stay longer. What yer doing is important. I only got a small portion of the pieces, but I’ll be damned, those were incredible.”

“I know, right?” I said excitedly. “Have you seen the board game pieces?”

“Yes, I’ve never seen one of those. Could it be a game we have never heard of before?”

“I was wondering the same. At first, I thought it was hnefatafl, but the pieces don’t match. Have you seen the craftsmanship on them? Those have to be high-end, the kind only a jarl or a king could own.”

“Or a very successful man.”

“What about the brooch? Do you have any theories?”

“Well, the dragon indicates it comes from after they became familiar with the folklore of the British Isles. But it’s still rough, so some time in the early tenth century is my guess.”

“Yeah, it was my estimation, too. And for formal wear, since it has the gems for the eyes.”

“Agreed.”

We spoke for about an hour, debating on the pieces I’d sent him, bouncing theories off each other. It was always better to have two brains instead of one, as we each thought of things the other had dismissed. By the end of our call, which Ingrid had participated in a bit, a lot of the pieces I’d studied for now made more sense. Even though only a few of them could be of interest to me for my exhibit, it was still thrilling to figure out each one’s history and meaning.

I promised I’d send them more photos and pieces soon, since I’d have a fresh series of mysteries to solve. We hung up to get back to work just as Yuko was coming back to get the empty tray. Once I’d updated the sheet on my side with all the theories I’d discussed with them, I dove back into the new items.

【33】Too Big a Commitment

The next interruption came shortly after noon, and I realized I’d forgotten to tell Yuko I wouldn’t need my lunch brought to me. But instead of her, it was Ulrik who came carrying a large tray. Mortified to be treated as though I was on my deathbed, when truly, there was nothing wrong with me, I watched him come down the stairs from the other side of the room.

Since it was too late to tell him to turn around, I made some room on the messy desk for the tray. When he set it down, I confusingly looked at the two plates on it, as well as the two glasses of white wine, two slices of cake, and two everything. I didn’t have time to compute what it meant before he dressed it all in a cleared corner of the desk and grabbed the stool to sit on it, facing a plate.

“Thank you… But you don’t have to eat here, you know. I don’t even have to eat here, Yuko thought it—”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

But I mind .

Deciding to stay silent instead, I pushed away my things and moved closer to him. It looked delicious, with creamy spaghettis, roasted broccoli, and grilled salmon topped with a sauce that smelled of lemon and dill. I was hungrier than I thought I was, it seemed, as my stomach let out a discontented growl.

“Wow, Yuko outdid herself,” I let out, already salivating.

I made myself a forkful with a little of everything, and when the flavors imploded in my mouth, I nearly moaned. Damn, this was something else. Living with Gigi meant I was used to stellar cuisine. My boo was a splendid chef, and I was never disappointed when she cooked. But this? This was spectacular. Everything was well-balanced, the broccoli was crunchy just right, the salmon was cooked to perfection, the sauce was a little sour and tasty, the pasta al dente and its cream flavorful…

By all means, this was a simple meal, not some kind of ridiculous Michelin star French dish. But it turned out that even simple dishes could be mind-blowing when done right.

“Damn, this is good,” I admitted. “Yuko joked that you kept her around for her cooking skills, but I might start believing it. Is she seeing someone?”

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“I might marry her just so I can get more of that .”

He smiled amusedly, his eyes remaining on me as I engulfed another serve of deliciousness. While I chewed it, still not over how perfect it was, I noticed something wasn’t right. He was being coy about something.

“What?” I asked, still chewing.

“Nothing. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

But it wasn’t “nothing,” I could tell. I swallowed and insisted, “What’s going on? What am I missing?”

“Shortly after she fetched your tea tray, Yuko wasn’t feeling very well. So I sent her home to rest.”

Slightly confused, I squinted my eyes at my plate. This meant—

“Marriage might be too big a commitment, but I’ll cook for you whenever you want, kjære .”

He looked very proud of himself, very cocky, and I couldn’t do anything but stare at my plate, wishing I could stop saying the wrong thing all the time. I wasn’t sure how to back out of this, and I wasn’t immature enough to take everything back, anyway. I loved what he’d cooked, he was aware of it, and now I had to live with the knowledge that this man was even closer to being perfect than I’d thought.

“I should have been clearer when I said you can’t keep calling me ‘love,’” I said instead. “‘Kjære’ is included in the pet name ban.”

The corner of his lips twitched with a contained smirk. But he said nothing and nodded instead, digging into his own plate. The wine was perfectly paired with the dish, and when I asked for it, he told me its provenance. But the information—some place in the south of France—quickly slipped my mind. It was probably too expensive for me, anyway.

“Have you found anything interesting?” he asked at some point, gesturing toward my laptop with his chin.

“Plenty, actually. Most of it won’t make it into the exhibit I’m curating, but it’s still great to get to study it all. I regret not bringing more equipment with me, though. I wish I could scan the tapestry upstairs. And I haven’t gotten into the books section yet, but I’m sure I’ll find a few things that’ll be of great value to me.”

“I have a scanner in my office, if that can help. As for the tapestry, I imagine you’d need a camera?”

“Yes, Henry would do it with his Nikon and a tripod. He told me that if I can take the pictures, he’ll assemble it with his software. All I have with me is my phone and my tablet, though, so that won’t work.”

“I’ll see what I can do. If you can’t get it done this time around, you can always come back.”

The idea sent shivers up my spine, and I distractedly moved my last piece of dessert with my spoon. This trip might already get an extension, and I didn’t want to have to come back. With every day we spent near one another, the tension between us grew more and more potent. Eventually, it would become too much for either of us to resist, and we’d give in to our desire, crushed under its weight.

“I don’t think it would be reasonable,” I answered, looking at my nearly-empty plate instead of him. Immediately after I’d said it, the atmosphere became heavy and awkward.

“I can arrange to be gone, if that helps,” he suggested, sounding grave. “Throughout the year, I’m away more than I’m here, so it wouldn’t be too hard. And now that the staff knows you and you’re familiar around the place, you could stay alone.”

“It sounds so…extreme. Maybe it’s just better if I stay on my side of the North Sea, and you stay on yours.”

“Isn’t that more extreme?” he noted with amusement. “And I have business deals in London; a residence, even. I can’t not come anymore.”

“You have a place in London?”

“I do. A townhouse in Knightsbridge.” My eyebrows shot up. This had to be the most expensive neighborhood in London, and he had a secondary home there? A whole-ass house?

“When we first met, you argued I couldn’t let you fend off in a city you barely knew,” I reminded him.

“Anything I could say to keep you with me.”

“So you could steal my sword away…” I sounded more bitter than I expected, so it was clear I was still not over what had happened.

“I didn’t need to have lunch with you for that. Mullins is the one I needed to butter up to get what I wanted.”

“So, what was I? Collateral damage caught in the crossfire?”

“You were…” His words trailed off, and I dared to meet his eyes. With his eyes on me, he thought about what he’d say next. I stopped breathing as I waited for it, wondering if we were about to slip past our boundaries again.

“You were unexpected, Mila,” he said in the end.

“Because you didn’t expect me to be so resilient?”

“Because I hadn’t felt that way in a long time.”

After a moment of nothing but long stares, he cleared his throat and stood. I watched as he gathered everything back on the tray, unsure if I should help. I probably ought to, but I was better staying away.

“Is there anything you need my help with?” he asked, pointing at my computer.

“Uh… I don’t think so. Not yet, at least. Oh, wait, yes!” I called the moment he grabbed the tray.

I got up from my chair, ignoring the slight pain in my ankle, and walked up to the shelf that interested me. Diligently, he let go of the tray and came next to me instead. Right there sat a large ornate chest of about twenty-five inches long, its engraved details so minute and rich, I’d need a magnifying glass to examine it all.

“Is this what I think it is?” I asked, pointing at the magnificent piece.

“I don’t know. What do you think it is?”

His coyness didn’t fool me, but I indulged him. “Is it the real Cammin casket?”

“I only collect originals, not copies.”

“So it is the real one,” I let out with shock, observing the chest in a new way. This was a masterpiece of the Viking world, one from the late tenth to the early eleventh centuries. Replicas of it were exposed in a few museums, and I’d gotten the chance to see one before. But to know I had the real thing in front of me nearly undid me. “I thought it disappeared during the Second World War.”

“Well, it did… And then it reappeared in my collection.”

The casualness with which he’d said it threw me off. This wasn’t his to own, regardless of how much money had gone into purchasing it. “Is there anything you can’t get?” I asked, audibly annoyed.

“Very few things. But when I can take something that I want, I do it without hesitation.”

It didn’t feel like we were talking about the Cammin casket anymore, nor anything from his collection. No, the underlying truth of his tone was that he meant me. One of the very few things he couldn’t have.

“Thank you for the meal,” I declared, hoping it would put an end to this tense moment. “If Yuko still doesn’t feel right by tonight, don’t bother cooking again. I can handle myself.”

“I don’t mind it. It relaxes me.”

“I prefer when you’re not being nice to me, Ulrik. And you’ve been nice all day, so it’s making things…complicated.”

He took a moment to process my words, his gaze remaining on me even though I’d averted mine. “Alright, if Yuko isn’t back by then, I’ll take out some leftovers from the freezer for you and let you figure out how the microwave works.”

I chuckled at his falsely cynical tone. “That sounds perfect.”

“It’s a very complicated state-of-the-art microwave. And I won’t help you at all.”

I laughed softly again. “I appreciate that.”

“And I’ll even try to pick a dish that’s not very good, because I’m a bit of a dick, after all.”

Even though he was doing exactly as I’d asked, I badly wanted to kiss him. He was endearing, and even though he lost the battle with himself now and then, he seemed to have good intentions. I appreciated that he tried to respect my boundaries, and I didn’t even blame him when he didn’t. Hell, I crossed my boundaries all the time where he was concerned.

Impulsively, I reached for his tattoed forearm, the inside of my hand wrapping itself around the firm skin exposed by his rolled sleeve. Humor left his face, replaced by uncertainty.

“Thank you, Ulrik. Thank you for everything you’ve done. And for everything you’re doing.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mila.”

After a small, awkward smile, he gave me a nod and turned around. My hand was left with emptiness as he walked away to fetch the tray. I watched him go until I was alone again, and sighed heavily, distractedly looking at the casket.

What would be the safest route? Staying only a week and taking some time home to gather myself before coming back? Or doing two weeks or more at once so it was over faster, like a bandage being ripped off?

Both these scenarios had the potentiality of failing hard. The odds were impossible to guess, even if the outcome would be the same. Maybe I could fly Gigi in, like my emotional support bitch.

That was a title she’d love, actually…

【34】Hard Day of Work

The following day was Saturday, but that didn’t really matter. Things were already taking too long as it was, so I wouldn’t make it worse by allowing myself to have a break during the weekend.

It seemed Ulrik wasn’t one to stop working either, as he came into the kitchen in a full suit, ready for another long day of conference calls and being a remote CEO. This serious businessman thing was getting to me hard. I enjoyed watching him sip his coffee in the morning while his intense eyes were focused on some article on his tablet. It was a big difference from the fuckboys I’d known before. And the fact that his clothes were fitted to perfection made him ridiculously alluring. Even fully dressed as he was, I could guess at his broad shoulders, the muscular swells of his pecs, the narrowing of his waist… If I were an artist, I’d want to immortalize him this way, so remarkably himself.

As usual, he disappeared into his office once we were done, and I descended the stairs to the gallery. Upon entering the reserve, I was reminded of my utter failure at keeping up. By the time I’d have to catch my plane on Tuesday, three days from now, I’d have gone over a third of his collection—if not less, given the scrolls, manuscripts, and codex I hadn’t started with yet.

I’d need an extension, and I wasn’t too happy about that. Ian didn’t mind if I stayed a little longer, and it was my understanding that Mullins wouldn’t care either. I would have to speak about it with Ulrik, though, to make sure it was fine by him. Maybe if it became too much for him, I could find myself another place to stay, so he’d regain his beloved tranquility. It wouldn’t be a bad thing for us to stay out of each other’s personal space.

To make up for the fact that I’d probably have to extend my stay, I worked hard the entire morning. I photographed, filed, and organized an entire shelving unit. My ankle was still a little sore, so I made sure not to overwork it. It would be tender for a few more days, so no jogging in the woods for a while.

I was very proud of myself when the lunch bell chimed. If I could keep up this pace, I’d only need one extra week of work, instead of three. That was good news, and it alleviated some of the pressure resting on my shoulders.

Ulrik was abnormally silent during lunch, visibly preoccupied. I might have taken it personally and think it was because of me, but given how he checked on his phone several times per minute, I deduced it was an outside inconvenience. Nothing to do about me and what had happened to us the day before.

He was just done eating when his phone buzzed on the table. I vaguely saw that it was an email, which he read with frowned brows and a bothered look. “Apologies, but I need to get back to work. As always, it was delicious, Yuko.”

With his phone in hand and a scowl on his handsome face, he left with haste. I watched until he disappeared at the turn to his office, and turned back to Yuko. “That looked like bad news,” I told her with a grimace.

With a gesture of her hand, she dismissed it, indicating this wasn’t a rare occurrence. “He get three bad news every month. He will be fine.”

A smile stretched my lips at her detachment. She must have seen it all in her days of serving him. As always, I helped her with clearing the table, and since I was quick enough this time around, I got to do the dishes instead of her.

Ever since I’d arrived, I’d done my best to keep my stuff tidy to not give her an excuse to do more work. My bedroom was immaculate, and I spent five minutes every morning making my bed perfectly. It was amusing to think she probably thought me to be a very neat person, when I was kind of a slob—my bedroom at home had never been as immaculate as this one.

I was finishing up with the pot when a phone rang on the other side of the kitchen. She went to pick it up, and I tried to follow what was going on. Since she used his name, I understood she was talking with Jakob, and it seemed he was canceling something. Yuko seemed upset when she hung up, and I went to her, drying my hands.

“Is everything good?” I asked her.

“Yes, it’s okay. Jakob was supposed to drive me to town, but he has an issue.”

“Oh… Nothing too bad, I hope?”

“His basement is, uh…with water.”

“Flooded?”

“Yes, the rain is slipping in it.”

“I guess it makes sense he can’t move, then. Are you okay to go by yourself?”

A bit sheepish, she shook her head and came closer to me. “I don’t drive very well, so I prefer not to anymore.”

Well, at least she was aware of it and didn’t cling on to her right to drive like I’d seen so many elderly people do. “Maybe Jakob will be available tomorrow,” I offered.

“It will be closed tomorrow. But maybe Monday is good.”

“Was it important?”

“Just blood work. And I also have some groceries to buy. But is okay.”

Still, she seemed upset at this change of plans, and since it was for her health, I felt compelled to help out. Ulrik was obviously too busy to come through, so I was her only solution. “I could drive you, if you want,” I suggested.

“No, you have work to do, Miss Mila.”

“I don’t mind at all. It would air out my head a little, do me some good.”

She hesitated, gauging how sincere I was. In all truth, I should have stayed and worked, but not only did I want to help her, I also looked forward to going outside a little and seeing new faces. I missed Norway, and while my living situation was splendid, it wasn’t an authentic experience.

“You sure?” she asked, dubious.

“Yes, absolutely. I’ve been cooped up in here for too long.”

After a few more seconds of pondering, she eventually nodded. “I will bring dessert to Mister Ulrik, and ask if it’s good with him.”

With her natural efficiency, she took out the lemon cake she’d made this morning and cut two generous slices from it, before setting them in two small plates. She added a spoonful of lemon curd over it, and some kind of cream next to it. With a kind smile on her face, she handed me a plate and then went after Ulrik with the other.

I sat back at the table and ate my dessert. Ugh… It was so good, per usual. Why did it feel like I was cheating on Gigi? Her cooking was just as good as Yuko’s, so I wasn’t entirely cheating by enjoying it, was I? Ulrik’s cooking, on the other hand…

Yuko came back, and just with her content grin, I knew she’d gotten a positive answer from him. After half an hour of putting away my things and warning the team back in London that I wouldn’t be available for a few hours, we headed down to the lowest level of the house, which I’d never been in.

There, I found the one in which he’d driven me back here from the airport, as well as other luxurious cars that probably cost what I earned in several years. There were also many old, vintage cars, one of which must have been from the 30s. So, he wasn’t only collecting Viking artifacts, but also cars? The man had expensive tastes. There were a few motorcycles as well there, and I imagined Ulrik riding them, which made my brain overheat again.

“Uh, which one should we take?” I asked Yuko, standing by the more modern cars.

“We take this, or this, or this.” She’d pointed at the Benz™, the Tesla™, and the Porsche™.

After I’d picked the latter, which was the most familiar one, Yuko went to pick up the keys in a secured panel, and handed them to me.

Well, I wasn’t used to driving overly expensive cars. Actually, I wasn’t used to driving at all, since I hadn’t owned a car in half a decade. It was like riding a bike, right? You never forget. And I got to drive now and then, when I visited my father in the States, so it would be fine.

Minutes later, we were on our way down the mountain, following the private road of the Westergaard Estate. Once we were at the gate, it took us half an hour to reach the small town Yuko needed to go to.

I parked at a small grocery store, proud of myself for my stellar driving. The car was particularly smooth, and the trip had been deprived of any mistakes on my part. Once we were inside, I pushed the cart behind Yuko, following her quick pace. It seemed she knew the place very well, as she navigated through the few aisles with ease. Sometimes, she would check on the list she’d written on a post-it, and then head straight to the shelf that held the item she sought.

Following her very specific instructions, I helped bag the goods once we were at the register, and then we walked back to the car, where I put everything in the trunk. Next stop was at a tiny post office pressed between two houses, where she needed to drop a few letters. On our way there, she explained that she maintained a rigorous correspondence with a few friends from all round the world, including Japan, the US, Argentina, England, and right here in Norway. Those were friends she’d met during her trips with the Westergaard family, and who wrote back with the same diligence.

The last stop was at a nurse practice, where she’d have her blood drawn so it could be sent to Trondheim to be analyzed there. She understandably wasn’t overjoyed, but she was so detached about it, I gathered she was used to all these procedures. She still hadn’t disclosed her health issues to me, so I couldn’t use what Ulrik had told me in confidence. Although we didn’t have much time left together, I hoped she’d feel comfortable enough with me to open up.

“I hope it’s nothing bad,” I told her as I parked.

“No, just normal test for a old woman like me.”

“You’re not that old,” I said with a grin.

“I feel very, very old.”

“Well, I hope to God to be as efficient and active as you are at your age. Heck, you walk faster than me; I had to run after you in the store. And you handle a place as big as the Westergaard house on your own, which is insane to me. You’re a total badass, Yuko.”

She giggled like a blushing teenager, touched by my compliments. I was still smiling when she opened the door and climbed down from her seat.

Since the weather had cleared, with patches of blue between the clouds, I exited the car too and decided to walk around as I waited for her to come back. This town was small, maybe two, three hundred people at most. But it had something authentic about it, definitely not the kind of place that was swarmed by tourists every year. The quaint houses and paved streets were charming, and everything was clean and well-maintained.

I was stopped by a bench to read the plate on it when a purring “Meow” came from behind me. The fluffy newcomer came all the way to me, and then body slammed my leg to pet itself on it.

“Hey there,” I greeted the cat, squatting to lower to its level. Its fur was wet, and I gathered it might have gotten trapped outside. “Who are you?” I asked, grazing through its thick white fur to find a collar.

There was nothing there, but the cat loved the attention, so I kept petting it. Below the dense fur, I could tell it was just skin and bones, and it made my head twinge. It seemed young, no more than eight months, so I wondered for how long he’d been out there. I looked around and noticed a small alley with some dumpsters in the back, which was the direction he’d come from.

Was it a lost or abandoned cat? Was it living by itself near the bins, feeding itself off scraps? If that was the case, it probably wouldn’t survive much longer, with the winter coming.

With my index and thumb, I looked for a microchip hidden under its skin. I was used to the process, and could usually find the device—the size of a grain of rice—in seconds. But there was nothing there, just like there had been no collar.

“Don’t you have a home, little one?” I asked it, giving it scratches under its chin. It meowed again, its amber eyes half closed with delight. Adamant to find out where it came from, I walked away from it, toward the houses. The cat followed me as we passed by them, and I carefully kept my eyes on it. If we passed the door of its house, then I would be able to tell. But we reached the end of the street without a single indication that one of these houses was its own.

With a sigh, I picked it up, shocked to see how light it was. That poor little baby either fended for itself or it had a terrible owner. My heart melted when it began purring in my arms, probably thankful for the warmth I was communicating. Now that it was belly up, I noticed it was a little man.

I returned to the bench, faced the alley with the trash bins, and walked up to the closest house. Since it was Saturday, odds were that the owner was in there. Squaring my shoulders, I climbed the few steps that led to the door and knocked.

【35】Reginald

An old woman came to open, looking down at me with inquisitive eyes.

“Hei, beklager at jeg plager deg, men er dette katten din?” I asked her, bringing the wet cat forward. Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but is this your cat?

“No, it’s just a stray that lives in the trash over there. I have called several animal protection charities, but they never came. The neighbors and I throw it some food now and then.” she answered in Norwegian.

“Is there a shelter near here? So I could drop him off?”

“The closest one is in Trondheim. We wanted to take it there, but it never lets us get close, so we never caught it. Now that you have it, though, I suppose you could get it there?”

Oh, that didn’t work with my plans at all. Coming here to help out Yuko was already taking a lot of the little time I had. I couldn’t possibly drive four hours there and back to drop off a cat to a shelter in Trondheim. But I also couldn’t let this poor animal out there to fend for himself. With the temperatures and the bad weather, it was a miracle that he’d survived this long.

“Thank you,” I told the woman with a small smile. “And sorry again for the interruption.”

She nodded before closing the door, leaving me and my furry companion out in the cold. “What are we going to do with you, little one?”

He looked up with his amber eyes, still purring, and my chest tightened. With a worried glance, I looked around. If anyone in the village had been okay to take him in, they would have by now. It was cold and wet all the time, so they would have found it in their heart to capture and protect this sweet cat.

With a sigh, I returned to the nurse practice I’d left Yuko at, thinking she’d be done soon. The timing of my return was perfect, as she came out of the building just as I reached it.

“Was everything okay?” I asked her, still holding the cat.

“Who is that?” she asked, her eyes fixed on the ball of white fur.

“Uhh… I found him by the dumpsters. Someone told me he was a stray. No one’s willing to take him in, and the shelters are in Trondheim. I—I don’t know what to do with him.”

Her eyes were still squinted at the cat, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. Honestly, I’d kept the cat with me, but I had no idea what my intentions were. Had I been on my own, I would have kept it and found a way to get it to Trondheim safely. But I was staying with people as a guest, so expecting to keep the cat was a lot to ask.

To my surprise, she came closer to the cat with her hand up. “I used to have a cat just like this in Japan,” she explained, petting him. A little wary, he recoiled at first. Then, once she’d allowed him to smell her hand, he accepted her attentions.

“Is it a girl?”

“No, it’s a boy.”

“Ah, mine used to be a girl.”

I watched as she grazed its wet fur for a little longer, wondering how this unexpected finding would pan out.

“We need to go back to the shop,” she declared, heading toward the car. I followed her, not knowing what to do with the cat.

“Did you forget something?”

“No, but we don’t have cat food. We need to buy him some.”

My eyes went wide with surprise. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, we can’t leave him out. You can take him to shelter another day.”

“I don’t want to impose, Yuko. Whenever there are plans to go to Trondheim, I can come by and see if I find him again.”

“No, that’s silly. We take him, you take care, and then he goes to shelter.”

When she tried to open the car’s door, it didn’t cooperate, still locked. Shifting the cat to the side, I dug out the key from my jeans’ pocket. She climbed up and then turned to me with her arms out.

Still a little flabbergasted, I handed her the cat. He fought it at first, but when she began to actively pet him, he relaxed and agreed to sit on her. Tongue-tied, I walked to my side of the car and got in as well. I hadn’t expected this turn of events, and I wasn’t sure what to do with it.

From what I remembered, Ulrik was quite opposed to cats. He hadn’t cared much about mine at home—which was fine. I could accept that some heretics might prefer dogs. But bringing back a cat to his place didn’t seem right.

“Are you certain about this?” I asked Yuko, needing to make sure.

“Yes, yes, it’s just for a few days.”

“I don’t think Ulrik will like it very much—even for a few days.”

“He’ll be fine,” she countered, waving her hand dismissively.

As I drove us back to the grocery store, I prayed that she’d be right. There needn’t be more tension between me and my host. Also, as a general courtesy, I refused to impose something like this on him.

We bought wet and dry food for the little one, and then a bag of litter. Thanks to the clerk, we also got a big cardboard box that we poked holes through, and where we put the cat in. We had a solid forty minutes trip back home, and I didn’t want to take any risks, nor did I want the cat to do any damage to the Porsche.

I was ready to be stressed during the entire drive home, but thankfully, Yuko entertained me with tales of her past, as well as a few fun stories about her employer. Had she not insisted it was true, I never would have believed that Ulrik had, at some point in his life, been chasing hens around a farm after accidentally setting them free. Yuko told me how she’d stayed to the side as he had, dying of laughter every time a chicken managed to evade him.

“A whole hour!” she insisted. “It was a whole hour, and my face hurt from laughing too much.”

“I imagine! I would have loved to see that.”

“Maybe we can bring home some chicken too,” she humored, pointing at the poked box behind.

“Let’s go with a cat first, and then we’ll see.”

“Yes, smart.”

Maybe it was a good way to put things into perspective. Yes, we were coming back with a cat, but it could have been worse. I could have stumbled on an injured bear, an army of rebellious chickens… It was just a small and famished cat, after all. One who’d need a bath, because he was quite dirty from his misadventures.

Once we were back home, Yuko put her hand over my arm before I could reach for the door’s handle. I turned to her, meeting her thankful expression.

“Thank you for driving me, Miss Mila,” she said with gratitude.

“It was my pleasure, Yuko. I had a great time and got to save this lucky guy back there.”

“I had fun too. More than when Jakob drive,” she added with a bit of mischief.

“Then let me know if you need to go to the village again, or wherever. I’d be delighted to drive you.”

“I don’t have to go again before you leave. On Tuesday, right?”

I grimaced, unable to hold it back. “I might actually need to stay a little longer,” I revealed with embarrassment.

“Really?!” The utter enthusiasm in her voice, and the joy on her face, took me by surprise. There I’d been, worried I’d impose, but she seemed elated at the prospect that I might stay longer than intended.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“No, not at all! I like having guests. It is interesting and nice. And you are a good person, Miss Mila. I would not want a bad person to stay.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” I replied with a laugh. “I still haven’t decided yet, so I’ll wait a little before making any of this official.”

The cat behind rattled in his box, apparently over his unfair imprisonment. I exchanged one last smile with Yuko, and we exited the car together. Ever well-organized, she pulled out a little trolley where we settled all the groceries, and with the box against me, we made our way to the small elevator that would bring us three levels above us.

As soon as we exited, me with the cat and her with the cart, my eyes fell on Ulrik, who was sitting on the large couch in the center of the room. He had a glass of amber liquor by him, as well as some paperwork sprawled on the table.

The elevator’s “ding” alerted him of our presence, and he turned our way.

“How did things go?” he asked, leaning back on the couch. He looked a lot less proper than he’d been before he’d left, with a couple of buttons undone at his neck and his sleeves rolled up.

“She a great driver,” Yuko explained, pushing her cart.

“That’s good to hear. What is that?” His inquisitive eyes were on the box I was holding. He might have thought nothing of it if there hadn’t been holes in it, as it looked like extra groceries.

“Uh… This is Reginald,” I said, panicking.

“Reginald?”

“Reggie, for friends.”

“And what might this Reggie be?” he insisted, rising from the couch and coming my way.

“You’re assuming that you’re a friend?”

“It depends on what Reggie is. Although, I’m afraid I already know.”

“He was starving,” I pleaded, holding the box closer to my chest. “It’s just until I can get him to a shelter in Trondheim.”

“Show me.”

I mustered my best puppy eyes and looked up at him with a pleading glance. “It’s so cold outside. I couldn’t leave him behind.”

“Show me the cat, Mila.” I hesitated, so he let out a small sigh. “I’m not a monster. I won’t throw him out in the rain.”

“Promise?”

“Yes. Now let it out. It can’t be comfortable in there.”

“Actually, cats feel safer in confined spaces. But you’re right, I should let him get some air.”

I settled the box on the floor and opened it. Reggie looked a bit miffed, and when I picked him up, he let out a disapproving meow. dismissing his discontentment, I moved on with the introductions. “Reggie, this is Ulrik. Ulrik, this is Reginald.”

Ulrik looked down at the fluffy beast, which was as close to a glare as could be, and then oriented his face toward the kitchen, where Yuko was actively putting away what we’d bought.

“He looks like your old cat,” he told her with a clear voice that carried all the way to her.

“I know, but my cat was a girl.”

“Yeah, I remember.” He turned to me again with the slightest hint of uncertainty on his face. “She loved that cat. I heard a lot about it.”

Reginald began to wriggle in my arms, tired of being held and constrained. Ulrik stared down at it for another moment, and I waited for his verdict. After another sigh, he glanced up at me.

“Don’t let him wander around, don’t let him damage furniture, and most of all, make sure he uses a litter box. I want to be kept out of this. He is your responsibility.”

This reminded me so much of the sermon my dad had given me the first time I’d brought a cat home, that some deranged part of my brain decided to reply with: “Yes, daddy.”

As soon as I did, though, the reasonable part of my brain realized what I’d let out, and my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Holy crap, I needed to install a filter on my mouth. The default setting wasn’t working out.

He must have heard it too because a half-smirk surfaced on his face. “Good girl,” he replied, completely aware of what he was saying.

Now, I wasn’t a particularly kinky person, but as an overachieving academic and career-oriented woman with mommy issues, I definitely had a thing for praise. And hot damn, Ulrik Westergaard calling me a good girl was enough to turn my knees into jelly and make heat pool between my legs. I was so immobile for a moment that Reggie managed to twist his way out of my arms.

“I—Hm… Thank you for letting me keep the cat,” I forced myself to tell him, in need of some distance. “I promise he won’t be a problem. I’ll take care of everything, and you’ll barely see him at all.”

“Then it’s all good by me.”

Too tense to act properly, I did some weird as hell curtsey and left to go after Reggie. Before he started touching everything in this immaculate house, he needed a bath. I wasn’t looking forward to the countless claw marks on my forearms, but it was a price I was willing to pay.

Once I’d caught him, I made my way out of the common space and toward the bedrooms. With one last glance over my shoulder, I noticed Ulrik’s attention was still on me.

What a terrible guest I was… First by bringing a stray in, and then probably by extending my stay.

The man probably regretted ever inviting me to that lunch when we’d first met. Things would have been a lot easier if we’d never begun whatever this thing was. But then, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to explore and catalog his collection. And Reggie wouldn’t have survived the winter.

Maybe this was fated, after all. Maybe I was meant to be exactly where I was, saving cats and exploring Vikings’ forgotten history. This was enough to bear the rest, no matter how overwhelming it got…

【36】Getting Comfortable

Hell hath no fury like a cat in a bathtub. Thankfully, I’d managed to get out of bathing Reggie with only a couple of claw marks. He surprisingly loved the blow drier, though, so that part hadn’t been as perilous.

Yuko, bless her heart, had come back with a bowl of cat food, one with water, as well as a large plastic container with litter, and an improvised cat bed—a crate with a fluffy blanket laid in it. To make up for my unproductive day and to give Reggie some space, I’d left him in my room to head downstairs and work. I’d done so until late at night after a short break for dinner.

This resulted in me oversleeping on the next day. I had no alarm set up on Sundays, and I’d forgotten to create one. I’d woken up with a slight weight on my chest, only to find that Reggie was now comfortable enough to sleep on me.

The cat followed me out of my room and into the living area, where Yuko was busy in the kitchen, per usual. Reggie went right away to the bowl with kibbles we’d prepared for him the evening before.

“Don’t you have days off?” I asked her, curious.

“Oh, I do. Today is day off. But I need preparing things for tomorrow.”

“That’s not how it works, Yuko. You deserve some proper rest after everything you do.”

She rolled her eyes, disagreeing. “Not you too. Mister Ulrik already gave me a scold today.”

“And he’s right.” With an indulging smile, I passed by her to the coffee machine. I set a mug underneath, as I’d learned, and pushed a few buttons on the tactile screen above. Then, I went to the fridge and opened it in search of a suitable breakfast.

“Your plate is in the oven,” she said from behind me.

“You cooked breakfast? On your day off?”

“I wanted to, but Mister Ulrik didn’t let me.”

Now that I knew her more, I understood Ulrik’s struggle to force her to rest, and why it affected him so much that she wouldn’t. This woman was endearing, and she only had people’s best interests in mind. Everyone else’s interests but hers, alas.

I picked up my plate from the oven—a stack of pancakes with scrambled eggs and bacon. It had been kept warm just right. “He cooked this?” I asked.

“Yes, before I could do anything.”

“It looks familiar,” I told her with a grin.

“Yes, your country’s cuisine.”

“Did he—Does he eat this often?”

She shook her head.

“So he picked it for me?”

This time, she nodded.

Damn, I wasn’t sure what to make of this. In the end, things would have been simpler if she’d been the one responsible for it.

“I wanted to cook, to thank you for driving me yesterday, Miss Mila,” she explained with a slight pout.

“But you don’t need to, because I’m still the one in your debt as it is. You’ll have to let me cook for you at some point. I make a mean macaroni bechamel.”

“What is that? It sounds very American.”

“Weirdly enough, it looks Italian, but it’s Egyptian. It was my dad’s favorite dish when he lived there.”

“You live there too?”

“Not for very long.”

I worried for an instant that she might ask follow-up questions, which would undoubtedly bring up the topic of my mother. But to my relief, she simply nodded and went to fetch something in a cupboard. She came back after a detour to the coffee machine and settled my mug, as well as a brand new bottle of maple syrup, on the counter. Once I’d thanked her with a smile, she returned to her carrots.

Just as I sat on the stool with my warm plate, Reggie jumped with supple grace on the counter Yuko was working on. With a bothered “Pshh!” she made him change his mind and get back to the tiled floor of the kitchen. I watched as she went to the pantry and came back with a serving of wet food. She emptied it into a new bowl, and settled it next to his water and kibbles. Reggie dug into it in a heartbeat.

Alright, the little man has fancy tastes. Good to know.

“Do you have any plans for your day off?” I asked Yuko.

“Sunday is telephone day. I have many people to call.”

Crap, I had to call my dad today as well, since I’d forgotten the week before. He was probably too absent-minded to have noticed, though. Work often took all of his attention and time, so he wasn’t the most reliable person. He always did his best, though.

I hadn’t even told him I was traveling for work, so we would have a long conversation ahead. That meant that today wouldn’t be as productive as could be.

“Everything good?” Yuko asked, making me realize after the fact that I’d sighed.

“Oh yes. I just really think I might have to stay longer. It’s been hard to focus on work, since there are so many things happening all the time.”

“It’s fine if you stay, Miss Mila. I don’t mind at all.”

“I know. Thank you, Yuko. I think I just have to accept that I won’t be home for a while.”

“Then today, you take it slow, too. You have time for day off.”

As if to validate her words, my phone vibrated next to me. It was a message from Gigi.

FaceTime™ yoga?

Chewing on a forkful of delicious pancakes, I considered her offer. Ever since my misadventures with Everest, Gigi and I had taken upon ourselves to keep up with yoga while we were looking for another affordable studio. Every Sunday, we did about an hour of it, early in the morning. Today would be our sixth session, and I kind of needed the exercise.

My ankle was all good again, at least for yoga, so I could indulge. As Yuko had said, since I was staying longer, the frenzy to get it all done as fast as I could was a little lessened. And frankly, I just missed my roommate and looked forward to spending an hour with her, even if it was through video chat.

Decided on it, I shot her back a text to agree.

Once I was done with my copious and amazing breakfast, I returned to my room with Reggie on my tail. Ulrik was nowhere to be seen, and I wondered if maybe he was out there running again, or already locked into his office. The weather would allow for a run on the estate, even if the temperature had dropped.

I changed into stretchy clothes, sneakers, and left the room with my phone and my wireless earphones. Since my bedroom was one of the less risky areas, I left Reggie in it, hoping he’d behave.

When I entered the living space again, Yuko noticed my attire. “Going to the gym?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m taking your advice to take things slower. I might even hop in the sauna for a bit. I haven’t gotten the chance to try it yet.”

“I will take care of starting it. It is a little complicated.”

“There’s no need. I’m sure I can handle it,” I insisted. Even on a normal day, I would do my best not to give her extra work. But on her day off? Absolutely no way I’d ask anything of her.

“Honestly, Yuko, I’ve got it.”

“Alright, alright… You go and have fun, Miss Mila. It will do you good.”

“I hope so, thank you.” I grinned back at her and then headed for the stairs.

Slight guilt took over me when I glanced at the gallery, but I ignored it and went a level lower. As I passed Ulrik’s man cave and its many distractions before walking up to the gym’s door, I wondered if I would allow myself to spend some time there now. As soon as I touched the handle, I heard a sound within. Was he down here after all, and not outside or in his office? Curious to find out, I pushed the door open.

As suspected, he was in there, lying with his back on a bench, bench pressing what must have been my weight on each side of the bar. Damn, what a sight for sore eyes he was…

For the first time ever, I was seeing him in a T-shirt. More of his intricate tattoos were revealed to my sight, and I blatantly ogled them, fascinated that a man so rigorous and serious would have that many tattoos on him. He hid it well, though, and when he was wearing a full suit, it was impossible to guess the dark shapes adorning his skin. Part of why I loved it so much was because it was all inspired by old Viking art.

Thankfully, he couldn’t see me stare at him laying back as he was, his eyes on the ceiling above him. And because he had earbuds in, he hadn’t heard me enter. So I dared to stare, entranced by the perfection of his powerful arms, muscles rippling under his tattooed skin with every rep.

Gosh, why did he make me so horny all the time?

Alas for me, his set ended, as he pushed the bar all the way up and, with a grunt that was dangerously erotic, hooked it on the poles on each side of him. Damn, there went my panties.

Although it was the logical continuation of things, I wasn’t ready when he sat up. He spotted me instantly, which wasn’t a surprise given my pink hoodie, and I stood there like an imbecile for a moment. There was a thin veil of sweat over his face, and the collar of his shirt was also drenched in it. His face switched to genuine enjoyment upon seeing me, and I smiled back.

“Hi,” I said with a grin and a wave. When he plucked an earphone out, I added, “Good morning.”

“’Morning. I hope you slept well?”

“I did, thank you. Too well, even. You?”

“Same. Are you here to workout?” he wondered after a short pause.

“Yeah, I’m going to have some video call yoga with Gigi.” Just as I said that, I realized it sounded like a lot of fun; like I was overindulging myself. So I promptly added, “And then I’ll go straight to work.”

“I’m not your boss, kjæ —sorry, Mila. Do whatever you please.”

A little embarrassed, I offered him a thankful smile before walking further into the room. Seriously, this gym was better than all the public ones I’d gone to. It didn’t have as much equipment, but it had one of everything, and it was spotless, deprived of the acrid smell of sweat and spilled-over protein shakes. Yeah, I didn’t go to the cleanest gyms…

“The mats are over there,” Ulrik interjected, pointing at one of the walls. I went there, confused, and he added, “It’s a seamless closet. Push on the panel before you and it’ll open.”

I did as instructed, and a tall door opened right before me. I opened it wider, glimpsing at all the gym gear within—among which I picked a mat, a block, and an elastic.

“Your house is a bit of a showoff,” I told him as I headed to an empty spot. A semi-smirk danced on his lips.

“The architects and designers had an unlimited budget, so they had their fun with it.”

“Now you’re the one being a showoff,” I teased.

After a not-so-coy smile, his watch beeped, probably signaling the end of his resting time, since he lay back, shoving his earbud into his ear again.

And before I had the sensible idea of looking away, I was hypnotized by his brutish display of strength again.

God… The things I’d let this man do to me…

【37】Don’t Look Down

Free of his attention, I thought for a moment about the best alignment for my mat. I didn’t want to flash him with my ass every few seconds, but being in a corner surrounded by floor-to-ceiling mirrors made that hard. I picked a placement and laid the mat that way. Then I sat cross-legged on it. Once I’d paired my earphones, I dialed Gigi.

Seeing her brown face and messy blue hair filled me with joy. “Hi, babe,” I greeted her, beaming.

“Hey, sweets. I’m so glad we can do this!”

“Yeah, me too! I’m going back to the dusty antiques as soon as we’re done.”

“Is everything going well?”

“It is. There’s just way more stuff than I expected.”

“Think you’ll have to extend your stay?”

I offered her a grimace through the screen. “Yeah, possibly.”

Her attention was quickly drawn to another topic, though, which she could see over my shoulder. “Is that Ulrik?”

I twisted around, seeing he was just done with the new set. Turning back to Gigi, I offered her a nod.

“Yummy… Put your phone in a way so that I can see him too,” she insisted with mischief.

With a roll of my eyes, I moved to set the phone in front of me. Because I was a good best friend who wouldn’t refuse Gigi her eye candy, I framed it so she could enjoy some of Ulrik as well.

We began with stretching, per usual. She was the most well-versed where yoga was concerned, so she took the lead. She’d actually been the one converting me to it when we’d first met. I enjoyed the added flexibility and increased mobility. Also, Gigi always included a couple of poses meant to strengthen the pelvic floor, and that was a nice bonus when it came to sex.

After a series of demanding poses, we were both in need of a little break. “Alright, we’re doing cat-cow for a bit,” she explained, moving to her knees and hands. “What are you doing?” she asked as I was doing the same.

“Getting into position.”

“You fucking wuss. Do it with your arse towards him.”

My jaw dropped nearly all the way to the mat. I sent her a scolding glare, which didn’t intimidate her but made her laugh instead. Thank Christ all of this was happening in my ears, and he couldn’t catch any of it.

“Come on, do it. I’ll tell you if he’s staring.”

“You’re not only insane, you’re also the worst sponsor I’ve ever seen.”

“It doesn’t engage you to do anything with him. It’s just to drive him a little mad, you know?”

“Why would I want to do that?!”

“Because look at him, ugh… If I could be the center of such a man’s desire, I’d be set for life. It’s like an ego boost that’ll never go away.”

“I’m not doing it,” I insisted, switching into the safest position.

“You are so disappointing right now. Such a pussy, I swear… I’ll never look at you the same way, Mimi.”

Sitting on my heels, I stared at the screen, unamused. “I will look for a new roommate as soon as I come back.”

“Oh, please do. I refuse to live with you anymore. You’re too much of a killjoy.”

“And you’re too much of a bitch,” I mumbled.

Because she’d triggered my competitiveness, and because I hated being called a killjoy—which she was perfectly aware of—I turned around. My face warmed up as I got on all four with my ass toward the room. I would hate myself for this in a matter of seconds, I was sure of it.

I did my best to focus on the exercise, following Gigi’s paced rhythm. With long breaths, I arched my back in and out, pushing my head up or down with each repetition. Most of all, I kept my eyes tightly shut, so I could avoid looking at the mirror upfront at all costs. I would rather not make eye contact with Ulrik, nor see if he was looking at me.

“Oh, he’s so looking at your bum,” Gigi said with pride.

“I’ve never hated you as much as I do right now,” I whispered.

“Stop being so dramatic. Hot damn, girl. If you were naked, he’d be staring at your chocolate starfish dead in the eye.”

Had I not been so conflicted by the idea, I would have found her choice of words hilarious. Any other man doing that would have been either amusing or infuriating. But with Ulrik, I just…I didn’t know what to make of it. I liked the idea of tormenting him, just like I’d been tormented upon seeing him so mighty when I’d entered. But going out of my way to do it felt wrong.

Impulsively, I opened my eyes as I lifted my head and arched my back again. Gigi was right, he was unabashedly staring at my ass. Not for very long though, as my gaze commanded his. Our eyes met in the mirror’s reflection, and I read no traces of shame on his face. He didn’t mind that I’d caught him staring. The position changed again, so I broke eye contact to push my head down and roll out my back, ribcage tucked in as tightly as I could.

Because of all the conflicting feelings his stare triggered, I closed my eyes again, basking in self-delusion. Maybe he was back to his exercises again, and he wasn’t so fiercely enjoying the view. That would have worked, had Gigi not been so adamant to ruin my efforts.

“God, he’s so into you. I can almost see steam coming out of his ears. Is that his little friend twitching under his sweatpants? Actually, it’s probably not so little, more like a—”

“Shut the fuck up, Gi.”

“Are you getting hot and bothered, too? We’d hate for you to start drooling from the other end. Imagine if he notices the stain.”

I was so over this; I switched position to sit back on my heels again. It had been a mistake, and I wasn’t sure why I’d given in to her teasing in the first place. She was the closest thing I’d ever had to a sibling, and just like in such relationships, we brought the best and the worst of one another.

“We’re not done yet,” she protested, arching her back once more.

“I’m done with this one. Let’s move on.”

She mumbled something I couldn’t make out and then switched to another position. One thankfully more suitable. We were still going at it when Ulrik ended his routine. I watched from my Warrior II position as he wiped his face with a towel, his shirt even more drenched than when I’d first entered. His cheeks still held some redness from the effort, and I wondered if he’d look just like this right after sex. Just as spent, but more enraptured, though.

He smiled at me as he passed by to head to the back room, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Suddenly, guilt spread all over my mind, making my skin crawl. Was he pissed at me for my teasing? It would make all the sense in the world if he was. What kind of two-faced person would demand that he stayed away and then harass him with sexual hints? Damn it, I should have never listened to Gigi.

I spent the rest of our session beating myself up for my attitude. It wasn’t fair to him, and I should have known better. Once we were done, after a brief moment to focus solely on our breathing, I wished a good Sunday to Gigi and hung up.

Since I’d seen Ulrik use a spray and paper towel to clean up the surfaces he’d used, I did the same on my mat and block, and then put them back in their places.

Feeling like I needed to say something and apologize for my behavior, I went to the backroom, where Ulrik had disappeared about ten minutes prior. Once I was there, I found it empty. One of the two showers was still wet with droplets, so I guessed he’d showered, changed, and then headed out through the second door—which I remembered hearing at some point during the breathing exercises.

With a sigh, I went toward that door myself. I gazed at the sauna door as I passed it, wondering if I should indulge after all. The panel was active, and when I looked at it, I gathered it was actually on, warm and ready to go. Had Yuko come down here to turn it on for me, even though I’d told her I was fine? The woman needed to learn how to rest and relax.

Well, I couldn’t not use it at this point, or it would mean she’d come down for nothing. I changed my course and headed back to the showers. There, I found a thin sponge robe, as well as clean washing mitts. The Scandinavian sauna etiquette was very strict on that, and one had to be clean before entering the space. Once I was rid of the film of sweat our yoga session had conjured, I wrapped myself in the robe and went back to the sauna’s door, leaving my stuff behind. I grabbed a white cushion hanging on a hook near it and put my hand on the handle.

Humid heat wrapped itself around me as soon as I opened the door, but I instantly dismissed it. Yuko might not have been the one turning it on, after all. And it was very clear that Ulrik hadn’t gone back up as I’d thought. Instead, he’d had the same idea as me, except that the man didn’t bother with any sort of covering.

My eyes widened, my mouth opened, my hand tightened on the cushion, and my entire body clenched.

He was sitting there among the steam in his birth suit.

C ompletely naked. Utterly in the nude. His shocked reaction equaled mine. Evidently, he didn’t expect to see me there.

With my eyes locked on his, I mustered every single brain cell I possessed to work on one crucial, important, and elementary task.

Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down…

【38】Steam

“You’re naked” was the first thing I managed to say.

Honestly, keeping my eyes from wandering south was taking all of my brain power. Just perceiving that his torso was also covered in tattoos was enough to drive me mad.

My momentary stupidity seemed to amuse him, as a slight grin replaced his shocked expression. “That’s a very perspicacious observation.”

He made no move whatsoever to cover himself or to twist into an angle where I wouldn’t see everything . Was this payback for the way I’d exposed myself to him? It was so much worse than what I’d done.

“I take it you had the same idea as me?” he asked, gesturing at the space surrounding him.

Finally, I looked away, setting my eyes on the paneled surface of a wall. “Yes. But I didn’t think you’d be in there, naked .”

“It’s just a body, Mila. You don’t have to be so mortified.”

Mortified wasn’t what I was. Horny was what I was.

“Well, I’m American, not Scandinavian, remember? ‘Just a body’ is a lot for us Puritan folks.”

He chuckled, and even looking away as I was, I guessed at the way his abs flexed with it. Fuck me…

“My towel is hanging out there; you can hand it to me if it makes you more comfortable.”

His offer took me by surprise, so I accidentally gazed his way again. Look up, look up! “I— Uuh…”

I didn’t want to be in there with him, all naked and dashing, even with a towel to cover himself. Honestly, I would rather go grab my stuff, head upstairs again, and brainwash myself into forgetting the image of naked him. Well, I hadn’t actually gotten the full image.

No! Up, up, up!

“Do or don’t Mila, but decide. You’re letting all the steam out.”

My mind was torn into three possibilities that all held the same weight. Part one wanted to back away, close the door, and leave. Part two wanted to grab his towel, step inside, close the door behind me, and sit down. And then part three wanted to just dismiss the towel altogether and sit.

It seemed I was taking too long to pick one of those, because, before I knew it, he was pushing his tall, broad, and naked body up. When he walked my way, I inhaled at once, my breath so sharp it was almost a gasp. Robbed of the little control I had, my eyes dropped on their own to the dangling appendage taunting me, guided by the deep V at his hips.

My gaze remained on his private parts for only a split second, but it was enough to engrave the sight into my brain. Definitely enough for me to notice that his considerable length — even resting as it was—was uncut. Gosh, of course the man manscaped and took care of himself. He was sex on a stick, and once more, every aspect of him was as though carefully engineered to have me drop on my knees and beg for him to take me endlessly.

I was still standing in the doorway, so when he reached for something out there, he was right next to me, his nakedness almost pressing on my thin robe. He pulled back a little when he’d grabbed what he needed, and then planted his eyes into mine, looking down with a heat that had nothing to do with the sauna’s workings.

“Do you want in, or out, Mila?” he asked, so damn near he could probably hear the hectic beats of my heart. Behind me, the panel of the door came to touch my back, startling me.

“In… I want in…”

“Good.”

The door was pressed harder onto me as he pulled on it to close it, to keep the warmth and the steam inside. Helpless, I took a step farther inside so he could, which resulted in our bodies officially meeting, my covered front plastered on his bare one.

He is naked , a voice screamed in my head. Every part of him is available to your touch, your eyes, your pleasure…

You must give in and take what you’re starving for.

Seemingly just as tempted as I was, his interest shifted to my lips for a brief moment. I was feeling hot all over, outside and inside, and I wondered if I might burst out into thousands of pieces. He’d been so perfect since I’d gotten here, such a charming gentleman, that my convictions that he was a douche deep down were only holding on a thread at this point.

He’d welcomed Reggie, taken care of me when I’d hurt my ankle, indulged my momentary distractions, and was treating me like a guest rather than an inconvenience. That, and his natural charm, the kindness and affection he harbored for Yuko, and the way he tried so hard to respect my boundaries even though I was all over the place… Everything was making it impossible to keep resisting him.

As if to prove just how perfect he was, he pulled away without a word. He returned to his spot in three steps, exposing his back tattoos to me, and I watched while he sat on the bench again. He made sure to keep himself covered with the towel as he did so, and I almost regretted that. The man was constantly triggering conflicting thoughts, and I probably wouldn’t come out of this entirely sane.

He bunched the towel across his lower abdomen and upper legs, covering himself from hip to hip. Most of him was still exposed, though, so I was still in some trouble.

“Better?” he asked.

“I’m not sure.”

I hadn’t meant it in a flirty way, but entirely because I honestly wasn’t sure it changed much. He was still naked under there, still magnificently bare, and I didn’t have enough resolve to fight my desire for him.

Still, it was too late to back away, to admit that I was a wuss and needed out, so I went to sit on the bench opposite him, but not right in front of him. His attention was on me as I lay back on the wall behind me, the wood of the pine planks warm against my robe. Displaying some boldness as well, I looked right back at him.

His short hair was messier than I’d ever seen it, and it made him somehow more accessible but equally charming. It was as though the man had many facets, and little by little, I was uncovering more of them. Deep down, I wished that I could know him well enough to discover each and every one of those versions of him, that I’d be lucky enough to know all of him. But it was a dangerous thing to wish for. Unlike the ancient antiques I worked with, he wasn’t mine to discover, nor mine to unearth. He was a man of flesh and bones, with his own secrets and mysteries, and the potentiality of fucking me up real bad.

Since it would make things easier, I closed my eyes and focused on the heat slowly seeping into me.

“How’s your ankle?”

I peeled one eyelid open. “Much better. I can’t even feel it anymore. But I’ll still be careful for another week, in case it’s still a bit tender. I’d hate to actually hurt myself and be immobilized for weeks.”

To prove my words, I lifted my foot on the previously injured side and rolled my ankle in every direction. I wasn’t expecting him to reach for it, though, so when he did, my other eye opened in surprise and I sat up straighter. I remained silent as he inspected the articulation, resting my heel on his muscular thigh and gently massaging the space above my foot.

Barely a minute in there and I was already finding the heat unbearable. It was attacking me on every front, between the sauna that released more steam and my body that warmed up on its own at his touch.

“It’s good that you didn’t injure yourself too badly,” he declared, still torturing me with his skillful massage. His hands were slowly moving lower, his thumbs already pushing into the sole of my foot. “I’d hate to see you hurt while you’re under my care.”

“I’m not under your care. And it would have been my fault, so no need to feel responsible. I’m the one that got spooked by Jakob and lost my balance.”

“Frightening beautiful maidens is in our blood, so I suppose it wouldn’t even have been your fault.”

His take on things had me smiling irrepressibly. “You’re very proud of your Viking heritage, aren’t you?”

“I’d say my collection speaks for itself,” he replied with amusement.

Slowly, I was relaxing, subdued by his magic touch. I shouldn’t have indulged, shouldn’t have let him massage my foot like this, even less so since we were both nearly naked. But damn, it felt good. So, so good. Not just because he was amazing at it, but because it was him , and small sparks of delight would ignite every now and then, only to jolt up my leg. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wood again, tilting my head back.

“Were your parents also into Viking history?”

“My father was, yes. Definitely. My mother…not so much. I think she could have been, but she had too many things going on.”

“Do you collect anything else, aside from the cars and the artifacts?”

“Actually… See that locked room you obsessed about the other day?”

I opened my eyes instantly, my interest definitely piqued. “What about it?”

He bent closer, looking so serious and grave my excitation peaked. With a very serious tone, he confessed, “It’s filled with the bodies of my past wives.”

Half a second. I was speechless and shocked for half a second. And then something clicked in my brain. With a huff, I removed my foot from his care and pushed on his knee with it to reprimand him for his joke.

“Isn’t that from some French folk tale?”

“Bluebeard, by Charles Perrault,” he admitted with a massive, luminous grin on his face. Okay, I couldn’t even be mad at him for the teasing. Not when he looked so damn endearing.

“Give me your other foot, sweetheart,” he demanded, taking me by surprise.

Was he turning this into a full massage session? What on earth was going on? He was trying to turn me into a puddle, wasn’t he?

“What’s with you and pet names?” I protested instead of cooperating.

“I keep forgetting your name, is all.” He gave me another massive grin, and my heart twitched at the sight. Christ, he was in a good mood today… Maybe I needed to flash him my ass in tight gym pants more often.

I shoved him with my foot again, the other one this time, and before I could set it down, he snatched it. “There you go,” he said proudly, initiating a massage on this side as well.

Once more, his dexterous fingers prevented my retreat. It felt too good to deprive myself of it, so I wouldn’t. It felt like I hadn’t been touched like this in forever. Gigi was tactile, but not to this extent, and the men I sometimes shared beds with weren’t selfless enough to do such things, nor would I want them to.

However, it actually felt too good, and I couldn’t help but feel like we were headed down a dangerous path. One that might lead to much, much more than foot massages.

“Ulrik, wh–what are we doing?”

“We’re being friendly, that’s all.”

“I don’t normally do such things with friends. Do you?”

I didn’t need his answer, reading it in his eyes instead. This was unusual for the both of us. We were navigating in unknown waters, and the desire that bound us together was coming in the way of any attempts at something platonic. Just this had me wanting to rip our towels off so we could have wild and intense sex in here.

“When have we ever been normal?” he argued, which I had to admit was true.

I didn’t answer. What could I say, anyway? I didn’t want this to stop, and while we were walking all over the boundary we’d set for ourselves, we weren’t crossing it. Not yet.

【39】Friendly Fire

Instead of removing my foot from his agile hands, I accepted my fate and looked at him working. His arms moved with his gestures, and my eyes were naturally drawn to them. Silently, I admired his tattoos, which were finally fully revealed to my eyes. He had the face of a bear inked over his solid shoulder, to the right side. Its mouth wide open with impressive fangs, its expression fierce and lethal. This one looked Celtic more than Viking, but it still fit the whole picture. There was a Ringerike-style wolf on his left pectoral muscle, its delicate profile ornate with slim ribbons.

A large Christian cross, filled with intricate Celtic knots, was right in the middle of him, starting in the space between his pecs and ending shortly before his navel. It made me wonder if he was religious in any way, or if he’d gotten this one for the sake of aesthetics. It looked, by any means, very good on him. I was lost in the details of a big one he had on his left flank when he spoke, tearing me out of my wonderment.

“You have one too, right?” he asked.

“One what?”

“Tattoo.”

“Oh…” I wondered for an instant how he knew, and then remembered he’d seen me in a towel the day I’d twisted my ankle. “I have two, yeah. No, wait, three.”

“You’re not sure?” he noted with amusement.

“There’s one that I tend to…forget.”

“Now I’m curious.”

I considered showing him my tattoos, which was only fair given that I was seeing all of his. And we were being friendly, weren’t we? I could indulge and show him.

“Close your eyes,” I told him.

He raised an eyebrow but cooperated upon reading my expression. His hands never stopped massaging my foot as I straightened up. I questioned my decision as I pushed away the left side of my robe and slipped my arm out of it. Maybe I should be thankful that I didn’t have anything in a more revealing area. With my hand, I covered as much as I could of my exposed breast, adjusting the robe on the other side.

“You can open them back up,” I said, my voice slightly trembling.

A couple of seconds went by before he complied, and when he did, his mesmerizing irises darkened, and his hands halted his ministrations on my foot. Although nothing of importance was visible, I was still more exposed to him than I’d ever been. But as he’d told me when I’d found him naked, it was just a body, right? Nothing to be mortified about.

But the way he was looking at me wasn’t that of someone unaffected by nudity. Or at least, he was looking at me like mine affected him. The tension rose at once in our heated booth, and I regretted my decision to show him my silly tattoos. Eager to be done with it, I lifted my breast a little and pointed at the four tiny letters inked below it, right over my heart.

“This one is a matching tattoo I did with Gigi,” I explained. “Hers says ‘Mimi,’ and it’s in the same spot. We did it about a year and a half ago.”

He eyed it for a moment, and I wondered if he was staring so intently at the letters, or if the curvy underside of my boob held his interest.

“Then I have this one,” I continued, twisting a little to the side and angling my arm so he could see the one I had over my left triceps. “I was in the first year of my history studies in London, and we were out with other students to let out some steam with a few beers. One of the girls started talking about dodos and how they are misunderstood creatures, how they weren’t actually dumb but that they evolved without predators, so they had no survival instinct.”

“So you had a dodo tattooed in commemoration?” he wondered, visibly very amused.

“We were all very drunk. Four of us actually had dodos tattooed that night, in a show of support for those poor, misunderstood creatures we exterminated in a hundred years.”

“An admirable motive.”

“Stop making fun of me,” I laughed. “Believe it or not, mine’s actually the most discreet one. One of the guys had it made on his chest.”

“Ouch…”

“Yeah… Last time I heard, he was considering getting it lasered off.”

“What’s the third one?”

I needed my full mobility for that one, so I removed my foot from his distracted hold. I turned around, and once there was no longer a risk of exposing myself, I released my breast and pulled my hair, still wet from the shower, to the side and to my front so I could show him my back. Right there, at the base of my neck, perfectly between my shoulder blades, I had the Vegvísir, a relatively modern representation of a compass inspired by Old Norse sigils. “This one’s a little…basic, I guess. I had it made as soon as I turned eighteen. It was that or the Yggdrasil.”

A tiny electric shiver struck me when the tip of his finger met my skin, right where the symbol was. “It’s surprisingly anachronic for someone as well-versed as you are,” he pointed out, softly caressing the lines of it.

He was right. While it looked very Viking and authentic, it wasn’t. Its first mention was from the mid-nineteenth century, and it was associated with Icelandic witchcraft more than Viking culture.

“I know,” I admitted with a grimace. “My second choice would have been better. But I was feeling homesick, and I enjoyed the idea of having this on me. As if it can always guide me home, help me never get lost in this big and scary world.”

“Did a part of you hope it would take you to your mother?” he wondered, his hand now caressing the roundness of my shoulder, where nothing was tattooed.

“She isn’t my home,” I countered. “I stopped hoping she’d come back when I was twelve. After seeing my dad be so miserable the entire time, I refused to long after a woman who didn’t want us.”

“Has he gotten over her now?”

I could feel the breath of his words over my shoulder, and I tensed, wondering if he’d kiss me right where his thumb was drawing delicate circles. I closed my eyes, gulping away the knot in my throat. We were about to cross the line we’d set, weren’t we?

“He’ll never be totally over her, I think. Whatever she did to him, it had a lasting impact. He used to say that no woman could ever compare to her, so it was pointless for him to try to move on. Any other prospective partner would only pale in comparison.”

“That sounds intense.”

“It sounds like bullshit to me. If she was so perfect, then why would she abandon us in the middle of the night, taking all her stuff and leaving no traces behind?”

“Was it how it happened?”

I nodded, still waiting for his lips to meet my humid skin. Everything in here was hot and wet, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of him or because of the sauna.

“I was almost two. She just…vanished. They were never married, and because of the religious climate in Cairo, their living situation was very secretive. It made it hard for my dad to look for her, so he eventually gave up before he got any of us into serious trouble. She was the one who refused to marry, and he likes to say it’s because she was a free spirit. But I think she was just too volatile to commit to anything.”

“Having a child with someone is a big commitment.”

“She became pregnant with me a month after they met. I don’t think any of it was planned. They just fooled around and ended up with more than they bargained for. My dad has put her on a pedestal my whole life, and it’s infuriating that he never accepted the truth.”

“Which is?”

“That she isn’t some woman so damn perfect she might as well be a goddess. She was an unstable, unreliable, and selfish person who had her fun playing house until it didn’t suit her anymore.”

I hated the way my voice sounded affected. As much as I liked to pretend I was over it, some part of me was still sour about being abandoned. I loved my dad with everything I had, and he’d been enough all my life, but I’d been deprived of a mother figure this whole time, and it had influenced the person I’d become.

Thankfully, Ulrik dropped the subject, either sensing I was reaching my limits or not interested in knowing more. His fingers grazed the dodo on the back of my arm, and I heard the smile in his voice when he asked, “Is this the one you tend to forget?”

“No, I forget about the sigil. It’s been so long and I barely see it. I actually love the dodo,” I confessed, a little embarrassed.

“I like it too. It’s…unexpected.”

I twisted my neck to meet his eyes. He was leaning toward me, sitting on the edge of his bench. “Yours are unexpected, too.”

“Are they?”

I nodded. “But they suit you. I like them.”

“Yeah, I noticed. You’ve been ogling them since you got in.”

“I wasn’t ogling,” I protested, twisting back to face him with a scowl.

In my haste to do so, I forgot about my partial nudity. I was quickly reminded of it as his eyes dropped down for a brief instant, darkened at once, and darted back up. Sensing my body warm up even more, I worked on slipping my robe’s sleeve back, shielding myself before he could get another peek.

Silence fell around us as I returned to my original position, with my back on the wooden wall.

There was no way to tell for how long I’d been in there. With him, time seemed to lose its meaning, and it felt both endless and too short. I’d stay there talking and flirting with him for hours if I could, even though it was like playing with fire. The more I knew him, the more I wanted him. The more he opened up, the more I appreciated him for himself, not just his alluring physique.

Slowly but surely, he was growing on me. Honestly, I already wanted him in a way that was more than physical, more than sex and desire. Those little moments where we spoke were so enjoyable and uniquely wholesome, and I wanted more of them.

“I should go start my day of work,” I impulsively said, almost like a defense mechanism.

“Are things going well for you?”

“Yeah, it’s amazing. There’s just too much of it.”

“I warned you,” he reminded me with a coy smile.

“Still feels like you downplayed it.”

“I was just being humble.”

“Right, and I’m not used to that coming from you.”

His crooked smile launched a little heartbeat between my legs. Alright, I needed out. I was too hot within and without; I had to cool down a bit. I pushed myself up on my feet, adjusting the robe around me. My eyes were on him as I picked up the cushion behind me, a little conflicted.

“Thank you for sharing your space with me, and for…the massages,” I told him hesitantly.

“It was my pleasure, Mila.”

After a moment to take him in before I left, I gave him a small smile. “It was mine too, Ulrik.”

Forcing myself, I turned away from him and headed to the door. Coolness kissed my skin when I exited the sauna, and I took a long and deep breath once the door was closed.

Miraculously, we weren’t that terrible at being friendly, were we? Friendly with a side of fire between my legs, yes, but we’d still acted in a very cordial, very respectful manner.

Upon finding him naked, I’d expected us to last thirty seconds at best before jumping one another. But I’d obviously been wrong, as I was now out, untouched and unharmed. The only bad thing was that I was now crushing a little bit harder on him. Alright, maybe a lot harder.

I was in big trouble, wasn’t I?

Especially since I would probably stay longer.

[You can read further into the story on YONDER, the next-generation reading app from the Wattpad family, as it is more advanced there.]

【40】Hand-to-Hand

“Aren’t you scared of being alone in a big city?” Yuko asked me.

“Well, I’ve never had an issue, so I don’t really have a reason to be worried. But I’m still being careful.”

For once, she’d joined us for lunch, and we were all sharing the beef teriyaki she’d prepared, paired with rice and sauteed veggies. It was nice having her along like this, as it helped lessen the tension between me and Ulrik.

Over a day had gone by since our moment in the sauna, but it might as well have been an hour. Everything was still there, the conversation, his touch, his damn tattoos… It was all still in my head, as fresh as when I’d left him alone in there.

“Do you have that thing with the pepper?” Yuko wondered next.

“A pepper spray? I used to when I was in college. But it leaked all over my bag one day, so I kind of never bought another one,” I explained with a grimace.

“It leaked? Was it the cheapest pepper spray you could find?” Ulrik interjected, skeptical.

“Someone gave it to me, actually, so I have no idea.”

“It’s not supposed to leak.” He was amused, almost as if he didn’t believe me.

“It did!” I defended myself with a grin. “I had to get rid of the bag and everything. And I loved that bag.”

“So now you’d rather go around defenseless?”

I might have taken his patronizing tone poorly, but I detected some amount of concern there, too. He wasn’t trying to be a dick; he was just looking out for my safety.

“I don’t need pepper spray to defend myself. From ages fourteen to twenty-three, I practiced Krav Maga. And before that I was in a fencing club for seven years, state championships and all. I’m also good with ax and knife throwing, as long as they are well-balanced.”

“Fending off an aggressor with an ax is quite uncommon,” he humored.

“Probably very efficient, though. But I don’t carry one around with me, so I guess we’ll never know. Imagine the cops’ faces when I’d tell them, though.”

The mere idea of it had me smiling. Maybe I ought to start carrying an ax around…

“What is Krav Maga?” Yuko asked, perplexed.

“Oh, it’s uh…an Israeli martial art focused on self-defense. They teach you holds and techniques to protect yourself from assailants. Women have been a big fan of it for a while now. It’s like a safety net of sorts.”

“But you could be attacked by someone much bigger than you,” she protested, not convinced.

“Well, yes, but it’s not always about the size.”

She pondered for a moment, trying to imagine it. “Could you beat someone as big as Mr. Ulrik?”

Her question took me by surprise, and I turned to observe the man in question. Not only was he tall and broad, he was also very muscular. The likeliness of me managing to overthrow him was slim, but not impossible.

“Maybe, yes,” I concluded.

He raised a cocky eyebrow at my answer, his lips twitching with a contained smile. “I’m twice your weight, at the very least.”

“Well, I’m not saying I’d succeed every single time. I could if the situation is in my favor. But really, all I actually need to do is wriggle myself enough room to give a solid knee kick where it hurts the most. After that, I’m a fast runner, so I can get myself to a safe area before my aggressor has time to recover.”

He still didn’t seem convinced. “I’m loving the confidence, but it’s bordering on carelessness.”

“And I’m loving the concern, but it really isn’t any of your business.”

My reply came out harsher than I’d intended, and silence settled around us. Thankfully, it didn’t last long as Yuko spoke a few seconds in. “Would you show me how Krav Maga work?”

“Uh… I mean, yes. I suppose. It’s more of an in-the-moment kind of thing.”

“It’s just to get the idea,” she insisted.

“Then yeah, I’ll show you a few things!”

She asked me more questions about my life in London as we finished eating, and part of me basked in her protectiveness. Although it was my understanding that she’d never had a child, there was something very nurturing and motherly about her. She actually cared about my safety, was genuinely interested in knowing more about me, and always replied with advice and words of wisdom.

Once we were done, we all pitched in to get the table cleaned up. All three of us were in the kitchen, Ulrik at the sink, me swiping a counter, and Yuko handling the leftovers, when she let out, “I put this in fridge for when I’m gone.”

“You’re leaving?” I asked. Something flipped in my stomach at the thought that she might be going somewhere. If she did, then it would be just Ulrik and me. And only God knew what that would turn into…

“Yes, I leave Thursday afternoon for Trondheim. Then I come back on Monday.”

Remembering what Ulrik had told me about her frequent chemo treatments, I gathered this was why she needed to head over there. Especially since she’s gotten some blood work done a few days ago. But she had yet to share her medical issues with me, so I acted as though I were clueless about them.

“Are you visiting friends?”

“Yes. Seeing a doctor, too.”

“Everything’s alright?”

“Just old woman things.”

I was by the sink to wash the dishcloth I’d used for the counter, and Ulrik gave me a shake of his head as he moved to the side a little. Was he telling me not to push her, or was he saying things weren’t alright? Regardless of it, I decided to drop the matter, hoping she would find it in her heart to open up before I was gone.

“Do we do the dessert now, or after the Krav Maga demonstration?” I asked her, changing the topic.

“We do both now.”

She served our desserts into bowls, the lemon mousse she’d made the day before—on her day off—and then we moved to the lounge area, where the couches were facing the view and the terrace outside.

Reggie joined her when she sat in the middle of the imposing sofa with her bowl, visibly excited about what would come next. I removed my shoes, so that I was left with my socks in case I needed to use my feet, and put my phone down as well.

“You need to stand so I can show you,” I explained. I couldn’t describe the holds to her alone, as it would only make things incomprehensible and needlessly complicated.

“Oh no, I’m too old to be guinea pig. You show me on Mr. Ulrik.”

The latter, who was just about to sit down next to her, froze. He turned to me for an instant and then gazed down at her. He said something in Japanese—which I so wished I could understand. She replied dismissively, gesturing my way to encourage him to come to me.

Holding back a sigh, he settled his bowl and phone next to my discarded things on the coffee table, and then walked to me. I had strategically taken position in a safe area on the carpet, and he stood by my side, waiting for my instructions.

“Uh…okay, hm…” I turned to Yuko, thinking it would be easier to address her instead of him, since it was the purpose of this presentation. “Krav Maga puts you into situations where you have to defend yourself, and then you learn how to get out of that situation, and repeat it over and over until it becomes muscle memory. For instance…” I turned to Ulrik, whose discomfort was slowly transforming into mild amusement.

“Come for my throat,” I told him. He cocked an eyebrow up, reluctant to comply. “Come on, you won’t hurt me.”

Still somehow disinclined, he followed my request and slowly brought his hands up to my throat.

“You have to do it faster,” I countered, unable to mask my amusement.

His refusal to mimic a violent act on me was too much of a green flag for me not to notice. Gosh, he was charming even when he wasn’t trying. He was a big man, tall and particularly muscular, so it made sense he’d worry for my sake.

“I promise you won’t hurt me.”

He gave Yuko a side glance, silently asking if he had to comply, and she nodded with enthusiasm, busy swallowing a mouthful of lemon mousse. Reggie had moved to her lap, and couldn’t be more disinterested in what we were doing.

This time, Ulrik put a little more effort into. He reached for my neck with both hands, fast. Before he could even touch me, though, I changed his right arm’s trajectory with a solid push inside his wrist, and then twisted to the side to feign a blow to his temple with my elbow.

Yuko let out an appreciative exclamation as we separated, clapping her hands together. “Very good! You very good!”

“I was expecting it, though, so it was a little too easy. But let’s say I couldn’t fend him off early enough, and he gets to my throat.”

I turned to Ulrik again, waiting for him to follow up. It took him several seconds to muster the capacity to do it, but he then wrapped his hands around my throat, and…

Oh Christ…

I’d never been into choking, but the image of him doing exactly this to me, but during sex, flashed into my mind. Crap, that would be hot. So, so hot.

It seemed the same naughty and intrusive thought struck him, as his light blue eyes darkened.

“What you do now?” Yuko wondered, breaking the tension at once.

“Well…it normally comes with a kick to the groin, but I’ll spare him.”

Humor lit in his gaze, and a crooked smile bent his lush lips. “How magnanimous of you.”

“I’m considerate like that.”

Just as he was about to reply, I reached around his arms and pushed against his wrists from the inside with a quick blow that resembled a slap. It dislodged his hands from around my neck, and as it did, I arched forward and raised my knee as if to give him a blow right in his family jewels.

Yuko applauded again, definitely entertained by the demonstration.

“There are plenty of other scenarios that we work on for hours and hours until it’s ingrained in our brains,” I explained to her. “How to overthrow an opponent who attacks from the back, how to avoid a blow from a knife, how to counter a kick…”

“So you can beat any attack?”

“Hm…maybe not all of them, but most of them, I’d say.”

She smiled widely, expecting more entertainment from us.

“You want Ulrik to attack me again?” I asked, a little uncertain. Her childish nod was hard to say no to. I sent Ulrik a questioning look, and he answered with a shrug. We could indulge in a little more, just for her.

We faced one another again, and he looked down at me. “What do you want from me this time?” he asked.

“Surprise me.”

He took a moment to consider what he’d do, and the instant his expression turned cocky, I realized I’d made a mistake. I wasn’t prepared for it when he dove forward, lowering his entire body as he did. Within half a second, I was thrown over his shoulder, with his solid arm behind my thighs. A helpless yelp escaped me when he straightened up, leaving me head down and ass up.

“What are you doing?!” I shouted, shaken by an unstoppable surge of laughter. I’d expected anything but this.

“Hypothetically kidnapping you. What are you going to do now?”

Yuko wasn’t missing a thing, laughing from the couch. Shit, I had my honor to defend!

But there wasn’t much I could do from where I was, especially since I didn’t want to fall from this height, even on the carpet. Damn it, he had easily proven that Krav Maga wasn’t the answer to everything. Still, too prideful to admit it, I wriggled and tried to get myself out of this.

Between the surge of adrenaline, the blood rushing to my brain, and my unquenchable giggles, I couldn’t think of much. Which was probably why I pinched his muscular bottom, the only thing I had access to.

“Ah! That isn’t an FDA approved move, Miss Connelly!” he said with a jolt, chuckling low.

“Your cheap shot isn’t either! Who kidnaps someone this way?!”

“We Vikings do. Look how efficient it is.”

“I could probably get you to let go of me if I wasn’t worried about the fall,” I protested.

“Yeah, yeah… Whatever you need to tell yourself, kjære . In the meantime, I could carry you all the way to my longship and take you wherever I want.”

As he said that, he began walking with me still trapped on his shoulder. Lifting my head, I noticed we were about to pass one of the cushiony ends of the sofa. It was all I needed to launch myself into a proper escape plan. Right when it called for it, I lifted my upper body with a swift gesture, throwing myself back and destabilizing him. In the same movement, I swung to the side, sliding one of my legs on the other side of his chest, grabbing a hold of his arm with both hands.

Just like I expected, he tilted toward the couch, about to fall on it, and I finished my enterprise right before we both hit it, passing my leg that was on his back in front of his face. I fell on it on my back, with his arm trapped between my thighs. Without missing a beat, I locked my ankles together and pulled on his wrist, attempting to put him in a deadlock and force him to forfeit.

I was so lost in the moment, so focused on holding him firmly, that I didn’t realize my ass was essentially plastered on the side of his face. It was only when I felt his teeth digging through my jeans, right where the back of my thigh met my ass, that the closeness of this hold downed on me.

A squeal shot out of me as I released him, and I then wriggled away from him with a giggle. I was torn between amusement and arousal, not sure what to make of what had just happened. “You bit me!” I protested, struggling to speak over my laughter. This man was unexpected in every single way.

“And you pinched me. Now we’re even.”

Yuko’s laugh turned hysterical, and it reminded me that we weren’t alone. My amusement died at once, and I got out of my awkward position to sit on the couch properly, the pressure of his teeth lingering on my skin. Fooling around with him wasn’t something I should indulge in as it was. I was here for work, and this kind of behavior was unprofessional and reckless. Having Yuko witness it made things even worse.

“This is not the kind of self-defense I learned,” I told her, forcing a smile on my face.

“It was very funny.”

“That’s because he cheated.”

“I did not. You should have set rules beforehand.” He had returned to a more decent position too, sitting two feet away from me.

“Not biting someone’s butt is a universal rule.”

“It was right there; I couldn’t resist.”

Heat crept up my chest to settle in my cheeks. So, now he was flirting with me in front of Yuko? I ought to return to work before things got more exposed.

The moment I was about to take my leave, I noticed that something was wrong with his shirt. And not just because of the way it was all tousled and wrinkled. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I let out, mortified. “I think I ripped a button out.”

I reached for his shirt as he looked down, and a grimace stretched my face as my inspection confirmed my worries. The third button from the top had been ripped off. The fabric felt expensive under my fingers, and I wondered just how much a shirt like this one could cost. I had no idea, none at all, of what the price could be, but something told me it would be a lot.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he said dismissively.

“No, it’s really not. I acted like a barbaric imbecile and now you’re down one shirt.”

“It’s really fine, Mila.”

“If we find missing button, I can fix it,” Yuko offered.

That reassured me a lot, so I nodded and rose from the couch to start looking for it. Ulrik bent over to the side to assist me, and we scanned the white strands of the carpet to find his tiny white button. It might as well have been a needle in a haystack…

Yuko was about to come to our aid when he pointed to a specific spot. “Right here.”

I looked and sure enough, it was right there, half hidden in the strands. I picked it up, still embarrassed by my misconduct—even though he’d encouraged it and some.

“There you go,” I told him, extending the button his way.

He opened his hand and held it palm up for me, and I let the small button fall into it. He observed it for a moment, and then closed his hand around it, fisting it.

“Sorry again for that,” I insisted, contrite.

“No problem at all, Mila. You were a fierce opponent. I’m lucky my shirt was the only thing damaged.”

“That, and your ego.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“She did get the upper hand,” Yuko chimed in, arguing in my favor.

“See? No need for a pepper spray.” I gave him a prideful smile before reaching for my bowl of lemon mousse, my hand trembling slightly from the excitement and adrenaline. “I really should head back downstairs now. Thank you for the meal, Yuko. It was delicious, as always.”

“And thank you for the show, Miss Mila.”

I met Ulrik’s eyes for a short instant, and we offered each other a nod. With my delicious-looking mousse in hand, I made my way back downstairs, ready to bury myself in work again. Reggie followed me, already used to our little ritual.

Of course, I replayed the moment we’d just had ten times in my head before reaching my desk. It had been so…innocent and natural.

After all, maybe we could act friendly and keep it that way.

【41】Mr. Big Boss

Ulrik

The weather outside was particularly splendid. In the past few days, the rain had cleared the air, dampened the dust, and left nothing behind but a crisp and limpid atmosphere. The sky was just as clear, blue stretching above and beyond without a spot of white.

As I distractedly observed the view from the wall-to-ceiling window, I caught myself wishing Mila could have enjoyed the estate in the spring.

Autumn was a beautiful season, with the surrounding forest dusted in hues of reds, yellows, and oranges, the few trees that weren’t pines getting ready for their yearly rest. I enjoyed autumn more than I did summer or winter, but less than I did spring.

The months following winter were always gushing with life, so full of the promises of a new year coming. It was a rebirth, a clean slate, a new page… And the beauties it offered still managed to surprise me despite how many times I’d witnessed it.

Which was why I wished she could have seen it even once, so she would experience the fjord in its greatest splendor. Nature seemed to call to her, even if she was a city woman. Several times now, I’d found her staring at the vastness outside with longing in her eyes. But between the rain and her long work hours, she hadn’t found much time to enjoy the estate. And when she had, she’d nearly injured herself out there.

Maybe tomorrow, after I’d driven her to the airport for her flight back home, I could mention that she’d love the spring here. I could slip that I’d gladly welcome her back if she had a break then, so she’d see it for herself. Not for work, not for the collection, but for her enjoyment—and for mine as well.

The thought of her leaving soon left a sour taste in my mouth. Despite my resolution to stay away from her, I’d failed more often than not, getting to spend much more time with her than I’d intended. And yet, somehow, it still wasn’t enough. I craved for more moments like the one we’d had in the sauna or the one we’d had during lunch earlier, craved to know more about her, be it the good, the bad, and the silly.

For the hundredth time since she’d shown it to me, the image of the dodo flashed into my mind, along with the story behind it. This was the kind of useless, simple pieces of information I longed to know about her. Anecdotes of her life.

I wanted to know them all.

“Mr. Westergaard?”

Remembering I was in the middle of something, I spun the chair around and focused on the call again. Three faces, parted in their respective corners, were looking at me through the screen, awaiting an answer to a question I hadn’t heard. Hell, I couldn’t even remember what this whole meeting was about.

New York. The investment company in New York.

Bill Rankin, who handled that branch, was there, as well as the head of the legal department, Andre Lemelle, and Monica Rascon, who was my invaluable right hand on the American continent, North, Central, and South. She was based in the US, but even more airborne than I was, handling most of my businesses on the other side of the Atlantic with an iron fist. If I wished, I could leave her to handle it all, and the machine would still run without a hiccup. I had several other associates just like her, helping me handle my multiple assets scattered all around the world. The only reason I wasn’t letting them do it for me was because there were only so many ways to trump boredom, and working was one of them.

“Do you think you can make it?” Monica asked, repeating the question I was failing to answer.

Ah, right… Going back there to meet with the Westons again. “Can’t you handle it this time? I was there last week.”

“They say they only want to deal with you.”

With an annoyed sigh, I pinched the bridge of my nose. I didn’t want to be doing this. In fact, I’d been wanting to head downstairs for the past two hours and watch Mila work from above. I’d done this a few times since she’d arrived, observing her from the upper lever as she walked around the reserve to check on items and then sat back to type and catalog them. She was usually so deeply focused that she didn’t even notice my presence. Only once had she realized I was there, so I’d come down to check on her, to not look too much like a creep.

Which I honestly might be, at this point.

“They are the ones so adamant about selling their company. I won’t bend to their will, they’ll bend to mine.”

“Well, we can force them to deal with me,” Monica suggested, “but they might take it poorly and close up like clams. I get the feeling they don’t take me seriously, even though you told them you trusted me entirely.”

As an Afro-Latina evolving in a shark’s world, it didn’t matter if she was a great white—cold-blooded, lethal, and scary to most. She always had to work ten times harder than everyone else, just to prove she was where she belonged. I’d learned that she was as ruthless as she was efficient, and had she been born a man, she’d be ruling the world by now. But our fucked up society wasn’t willing to let that happen, so she was working against countless obstacles. She’d recently shared with me that with age, though, things had gotten easier. She was nearing her fifties now, and it somehow gave her more leverage and authority.

“I’m not saying no to a conference call, but I’m not flying nine hours there and back just to meet with them.”

“Trust me, they will take it as a sign of disrespect. You know how old white men are.” Rankin wriggled on his chair, apparently uncomfortable with Monica’s last statement, even though it wasn’t directed at him.

“When is the meeting?”

“Tomorrow, early in the afternoon,” Lemelle explained, making me groan in disapproval.

Monica shrugged her shoulders. “Well, the time zones are in your favor, so you can leave tomorrow at dawn and still be here early enough for us to prepare. Or you can leave tonight and have longer for that.”

Well, none of those options were acceptable. Either way, I would be robbed of the little time I had left with Mila. Jakob would have to take her to the airport instead of me, while I’d be heading back to the US to meet the Weston brothers.

“I’m not coming,” I declared, leaving no room for protest. “Either they agree to deal with the three of you in person, and me on a screen, or fuck them.”

The men blinked a couple of times, but Monica was too familiar with me to let my words shock her. “You’re willing to risk the deal?” she asked.

“The merger was for the sake of their employees more than my own. They and their families shouldn’t suffer from the Westons’ bad investments and poor business skills. But if the brothers can’t make some effort in everyone’s best interest, then they should look for someone who’s actually interested in their dying corporation.”

“Me and my team have accumulated five hundred hours of work on this merger, sir,” Lemelle intervened.

“And I’m very aware of your time’s worth. I’m the one paying everyone, after all.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do,” Monica agreed, typing something on her phone, her long nails tapping on the screen rapidly. “I’ll maintain the meeting, and we’ll let them know at the last minute that you can’t make it in the end. It might be the best way to ensure they still come.”

“Perfect. Have the details sent to me, and I’ll join in remotely.”

After a few more exchanges, we agreed to end the call and reconvene the day after for the meeting with the Weston brothers. Both men hang up first, leaving me and Monica alone.

“Are you sure you can’t come?” she asked, her tone switching from professional to personal.

“I can’t spare another trip to New York right now, Mon.”

“You were barely here last weekend. We had one evening together, and you were on the phone for part of it. I still don’t get why you didn’t stay the night.”

Her disappointment was obvious in her voice and on her face, so I looked away, holding back a sigh. I’d been asking myself a few times now if entertaining a no-strings-attached sex arrangement with her hadn’t been a mistake. When we’d first started after her divorce, about six years prior, it had been clear that things were both on the same wavelength.

She was a beautiful woman, and her age brought emotional and physical maturity. Her work hours were even worse than mine, so she’d been the perfect candidate for casual encounters. We were highly compatible in bed, and as long as feelings weren’t involved, it would actually help strengthen our trust and relations.

I suspected feelings were growing on her side, though, which was probably why we hadn’t fucked in over two months. I wasn’t in this to have to handle jealousy and complications. However, following my discovery of Mila, I’d almost given in again during my trip there. Monica was being flirty, I had some pent-up sexual frustration to release, and we’d ended up making out and groping one another on her couch.

But then I’d received Mila’s texts from her night out, and all thoughts of Monica had evaporated from my mind. I’d felt like an arsehole for it, but she’d taken it graciously when I’d told her I wouldn’t be staying in the end. The way she was acting now proved she hadn’t been fine with it, though.

“I had a lot on my mind.”

“So you’ve said.” After a short moment of reflection, she asked, “Have you met someone?”

I should have said no, because Mila didn’t change a thing since nothing would happen between us. But this offered a great opportunity to let Monica know that our arrangement might come to an end.

“I have, yes,” I gravely declared.

Surprise struck her for an instant, but she quickly recomposed herself. “I thought you were running away from romance like the plague.”

“I suppose I couldn’t outrun it forever.”

“You were with her on the phone the other night?” she guessed. I nodded. “Looks like she’s giving you some trouble.”

“She’s a handful and a bit of a brat, in all honesty.”

“Well, then she’s perfect for you. A challenge of every day. You’d be bored to death otherwise.”

“You know me too well,” I conceded with a sly grin.

There was a moment of pause as she reflected on what this meant for us. She had other lovers—about five, to the best of my knowledge. I wouldn’t be greatly missed, or at least she’d get over me quickly. She was a great white after all, and nothing could take her down.

“I hope she’s good to you,” was what she said next.

“She’s too good for me, actually.”

“Allow me to doubt that.” She offered me a kind smile, small wrinkles forming at the corners of her eyes. “I’ll miss our arrangement, but I’m happy for you, Ulrik. You work too much and you deserve to enjoy life more.”

“You deserve that too, Mon.”

She waved her hand contemptuously. “I gave marriage a try, and it wasn’t the fulfilling experience I was promised. I’m much better on my own, surrounding myself with sexy young men who treat me like a goddess. Turns out I wasn’t meant to be a mother, but I excel at being a sugar mama.”

I laughed frankly at her words. All in all, I was lucky to have her in my court, and meeting her had made me a better man in some aspects.

“Alright, I have another meeting coming up. I’ll send you the details about the Westons later. Call me if you need anything ’till then, or if you change your mind and decide to come.”

“I won’t come.”

“We’ll see. You’re too good a man to let all the Westons’ employees lose their jobs.”

“They aren’t my responsibility.”

“Yeah, yeah… I’ll talk to you tomorrow, dear.” After a confident wink, she hung up before I could say a thing.

I stared at the empty screen for a moment, pondering on what I needed to do. Objectively, I should leave and head to New York as early as tonight. The negotiations with the Weston brothers had been ongoing for the past four months, and it had gotten serious about a month ago. Risking it all because I would rather enjoy the rest of my time with Mila was irresponsible. But at the same time, if the deal didn’t go through, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

I leaned back in the chair with a sigh, the coldness of the leather seeping through my shirt.

Life had been monotonous for a while now, and had this occurred two weeks ago, I would have gone without a second thought. But with Mila came unpredictability. On every single front.

With her around, there was no way to guess how the day would unfold. Whenever we interacted, I found myself surprised by the way things evolved, finding myself in situations I hadn’t expected. If I were to head downstairs right now, things would undoubtedly take a turn I couldn’t foresee.

And the worrisome part was that I restlessly wanted to join her in the reserve, to see just how she’d manage to surprise me today. Or to surprise me again , since she’d already managed that feat earlier, during lunch.

Her little demonstration had entertained me as much as it had Yuko, and I’d enjoyed seeing the display of skills I hadn’t guessed she had. In all honesty, I hadn’t expected her to be able to overpower me. When she’d first mentioned it, I’d kept my mouth shut, refusing to hurt her feelings. She looked too proud of herself and was having too much fun for me to burst her bubble.

But to my surprise, she’d managed to get the upper hand on me, freeing herself from my hold with relative ease. The surprise of our fall had been so great that I’d ended up acting like a fool and biting her, instead of using logic and experience. Afterwards, her mortification upon realizing she’d damaged my shirt had been strangely endearing.

I’d been lost in our playful exchange, too amused to perceive the sensuality of the moment. But it had haunted me since, and I wished I could have engraved those few minutes in my brain so they never left.

Now, the pearly white button she’s accidentally ripped off was sitting on my desk, and I wondered if I would even let Yuko fix the shirt. That memory held more value than any item of clothing in my wardrobe.

Glimpsing at it again, so small and yet so charged with emotions and meaning, I sensed my chest tighten. Four hours had gone by since then, and it somehow felt like I hadn’t seen her for an entire day.

My desire to join her in the reserve intensified, and I decided there was no use fighting against it. She would leave tomorrow in the morning, so spending some more time by her side couldn’t be that dangerous.

In search of an excuse, I looked around my home office. Maybe I could go to her with a steaming mug of coffee. She seemed to consume those more than she did water. When my eyes landed on a piece of decoration sitting on a console, my eyebrows met with disconcertment. I was so used to it being there that I’d entirely forgotten about it. But it was part of the collection, and might actually be of interest to her and her upcoming exhibit.

Decided on it, I logged out of everything and went to grab the artifact. If I was willing to risk the Weston brothers’ deal, I might as well spend as much time with her as I could.

【42】Treasure

Ulrik

Less than a minute after I’d left my office, I was entering the reserve. She was by the desk I’d given her, actively typing something on her computer. Per usual, she was so absorbed by her work that she didn’t notice me at first. Reginald did, though. He’d found an available spot in the corner of her messy desk.

She only realized I was there once I reached the last step of the stairs. By then, I’d hidden the item behind me, so I could surprise her with it.

“Hi,” she greeted me with a cheerful smile.

“Hello there, Miss Connelly.”

Her eyes were squinting at me as I came closer. “What’s behind your back?”

“Another piece of the collection that I forgot was in my office.”

Excitement gained her instantly, as if this entire room filled with thousands of items wasn’t enough to satiate her passionate curiosity. “Can I see it?!”

“Close your eyes first, skatt .”

After the faintest hesitation, probably at the new endearment, she complied and shut her eyes tightly, almost squirming in her seat. Shaking my head with amusement, I brought the large object out from behind me and held it in front of her.

Since I didn’t have that many opportunities to observe her from up close like this, I did just that, standing there for a moment. I took in her delicate profile, the soft curve of her cheek, the straight line of her nose, the plumpness of her lips… She was a beautiful woman, by any means. Impartially, I knew she wasn’t the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, but I also couldn’t remember having been so attracted to anyone else like I was to her. Maybe a long time ago, too far for me to remember.

When she began showing signs of impatience, I accepted that all good things must end, and told her, “You can open them.”

She did so, and her brown eyes immediately traveled the length of the artifact. Awe and wonderment struck her as she processed what she was seeing.

The walrus tusk was sculpted along its entire length, the details so minute she probably couldn’t see them all yet. Its ivory had turned into shades of dark yellow in some places, but it only brought out more of the carvings and details. Underneath the tusk, there were linear dents along the length, to symbolize the underside of a Viking longship, and the upper part was divided into several scenes. The main subject of these scenes was hard to miss, especially since the twin swords were represented. I guessed she’d figured it out when she reached up for it with trembling hands.

“Is this— Are you—” She stumbled on her words, too bewildered to formulate a sentence. “Is this Haakon’s saga carved in walrus ivory?”

“Not the entire saga, but his sailing to England.”

She blinked several times, her eyes still on the tusk she was barely holding, and I considered turning her off and on, as if it could fix her real-life glitch.

This piece was among my absolute favorites, which was why I kept it by my side. So it was only fair that she’d be this entranced and shocked by it. Just as I’d suspected, this piece would be of utmost importance to her.

Once she regained a modicum of cerebral functions, she turned to me with a scowl, which I wasn’t expecting. “You forgot about this?!”

My response was impeached by the chuckle that rolled in my chest.

“And you’re touching it without gloves on? Ulrik, what the hell!” Her utter discontent made me laugh softly again.

In an instant, she busied herself with clearing up her desk, making some room to welcome the tusk on it. Reginald found the fuss unsuitable for him, so he jumped down and walked away. Good .

“Alright, you can put it here,” she ordered.

I set the tusk right in front of her, making sure it was stable on its support. As soon as she was done slipping on her silk gloves, she bent closer to the masterpiece and observed it intently.

“This is amazing… The level of details is out of this world. I can almost see the seams on the tunics…”

She straightened up like a spring, her head going left and right as she looked for something. I guessed what it was before she could voice it, and spotted the handle of it poking from under a pile of papers. Without a word, I extracted the magnifying glass from its hiding spot and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she mouthed, taking it swiftly.

For the following few minutes, she analyzed every tiny detail of the tusk, angling the desk lamp, moving the artifact around. As thrilling as it might be, I was more compelled to observe her instead. I only had so much time left to do it.

“Look,” she excitedly said, pointing at a particular spot early on the tusk. “This must be the representation of his journey to West Anglia. This is Haakon right here, among his men. See the swords?” she asked, to which I nodded. “He had the two of them—yours and mine.”

“I believe both swords are mine.”

My teasing earned me a darkened glare. “Way to twist the blade in the wound, you dick. But stop distracting me. Look over there, on the opposite end of the tusk. They are facing the other way around, and he only has one sword left. The one your family has been passing from generation to generation. This one’s the sword in the gallery. Your sword.”

“Again, both are mine,” I teased.

“And again, stop being a dick.”

After a silent exchange filled with what I would only qualify as eye-banter, she returned her attention to the tusk, the ghost of a smile lingering on her face. Her passion was contagious, and I ended up looking at the artifact in a new light. I was so jaded with all this that the magic feeling those pieces could entice was lost on me.

Just so that I could enjoy some of that through her, I went to pick a chair and settled it by her side. I sat near her, close enough to smell the orange blossom in her perfume, far enough to not be too distracted by it.

“Something’s weird,” she mumbled after a while, her face veiled with uncertainty.

“What?”

“I can’t recognize the style. Everything is usually very curvy and round, inspired by nature and organic forms. But see those details here? See the neat angles and the hard turns?” I bent forward to see it for myself, noting that she was right indeed. The style wasn’t common. “It could be the artist’s unique style,” she continued, “but that makes it hard to date back.”

She stared at the sword with a focused look, trying to figure out what to make of this odd discovery. Then, all of a sudden, something seemed to click in her head. Lost in her epiphany, she ignored me and headed straight to one of the shelves. There, she picked up an item before going to another shelf. Three items later, she came back to the desk with all of them, and carefully settled them in front of her chair.

“All of these have that same style,” she explained, showing them to me one by one. Surely enough, they all had those harsh, angular lines. “There might be more…”

With a concentrated pout, she observed the room for a moment, right before she jumped to her feet again and went to inspect the shelves. With great amusement, I watched her rush from shelf to shelf. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen her get hyper like this, running on adrenaline and—probably—coffee.

I was leaning back on the chair, my arms crossed over my chest and my legs extended upfront, ankles crossed, when Reginald came back. He observed me from the floor, doing his calculation to see what kind of jump would get him on my lap.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned him. My threats were ignored entirely as he took the jump regardless, missing. I groaned when his claws pierced through my pants and skin, crawling his way up. Once he’d managed, I frowned at him. “You’re a disgrace to your kind.”

He sent me a snarky glare and then looked to a suitable position in the circle of my arms. I sat up before he could find one, forcing him back to the floor. With a miffed meow, he walked away again. Damned be this cat. But at least he wasn’t damaging anything, it seemed.

Just then, Mila came back with five more things, all of different shapes, materials, and sizes. With a gesture of her hand, she encouraged me to come closer. Since there wasn’t enough room for both our chairs, I stood and moved to her side, bending forward with a hand on the desk to inspect what she was showing me. There was a sword handle, a brooch, a broken comb… As soon as she sat again, she showed me how the art was alike in all of those, still with the sharp angles.

“So, what does all this mean?” I asked her.

“Well… I’m not really sure. But if it doesn’t look like Broa, Oseberg, Borre, Jelling, Mammem, Ringerike, or Urnes, then…” Her words trailed off, as if she refused to voice her idea, maybe worried she’d be wrong.

“Then there’s another style that was never identified before,” I finished for her. Her neck twisted to meet my eyes, and while she did her best to contain herself, I could read the agitation within her.

With our position, I was so close to her that I could smell her delicate perfume, admire the details of her face, with her long lashes, the specks of lighter brown in her eyes, the delicate bow of her upper lip… I did my best to focus, though, and not let myself be distracted by her enticing beauty.

This would be a big discovery for her, something worth being published for, a finding that could define her career. In a few minutes of looking, she’d found nearly ten artifacts with this style in here. There might be others in my collection alone, and then some more out there, which had been misidentified over the centuries. I scanned the room, wondering if there could be more.

“Do you remember seeing more of those in here?”

“No, I… I’m afraid I could only do about a third of the room,” she said sheepishly, pulling on the fingers of her gloves to remove them.

Her answer surprised me, which I didn’t try to hide. I’d figured she might not have time to go over everything, but I’d imagined she would have done more by now, especially given her efficiency and long hours. She was supposed to leave the next morning and hadn’t gotten to even half of it.

“That’s a shame,” I let out.

“Yeah, I know… I’ve been meaning to ask you if…”

She hesitated, clearly embarrassed. My heartbeat accelerated as I tried to guess what she’d say next. Would she ask to come back so she could finish exploring the collection? Would she say she wished to extend her stay?

“I know it’s last minute, and I’m aware that it’s very inappropriate for me to ask. Which I guess is why I kept delaying it, hoping I’d manage to miraculously get everything done.”

Flustered and fidgeting with her gloves, Mila looked at anything but me, which broke my heart a little. Was she worried I’d react poorly to whatever she’d ask? Everything in me was thrilled to know I’d get more of her. In a conflicted way, admittedly, but I was still looking forward to spending more time around her. We’d done well so far, and while I’d been sure we’d mess up at some point, we hadn’t. Nothing more than a few slip-ups, so nothing too grave.

“Go on, kjære ,” I encouraged her with a soothing voice. She dared to meet my eyes, looking more self-conscious than I’d ever seen her. To be less intimidating, I squatted next to her, bringing our faces to the same level.

“Would it be the worst thing in the world if I stayed another week?”

Her vulnerability was reaching a dormant part of me that I’d forgotten was there. One that had awakened when she’d hurt her ankle, too. She triggered a need to protect, a desire to make sure everything would be fine.

My left arm was resting on the desk for balance, so with my right hand, I reached up to a rebellious strand loosely hanging on the side of her face, feeling the softness of her wavy hair between my index and thumb.

Could I resist her another week? It felt like tempting the devil. And I was the devil, tempted by her beyond words. Even now, as I was considering setting some distance between us, I was unable to make a move, to step away from her.

“If you stay, we’ll need to have another one of those discussions, Mila.”

“Which discussions?” She seemed as if mesmerized by my proximity, entranced by it.

“The ones where we agree not to cross that line we’re both dying to cross.”

“I think we’ve been doing good, don’t you?”

We had, but we also hadn’t. Temptation had been ever present, and we’d managed to resist it, to hold back our impulses. But we’d also not done our best to avoid those tempting moments, even actively creating some to mess with one another.

“Was I supposed to look?” I asked with a voice so low it was almost a whisper.

Confused, she frowned slightly. “What?”

“Yesterday, when you were working out, was I supposed to look at you? Is that what you wanted from me? That I desire you from afar?”

“I— I don’t know,” she admitted truthfully. “It’s like I’m in constant turmoil when you’re around. I don’t know what to expect or want from you.”

“And I have no idea what to do with all your mixed signals, Mila.”

“Are you growing tired of me?” There was unmistakable worry in her voice.

“I don’t think I ever could, kjære … But frustrated? To no end.”

“What do you want from me?” she asked in return after a few seconds had passed.

I needed to move away, to not be so close to her so I could regain some of my autonomy and will. But I couldn’t muster a single muscle to add even an inch to the small gap between us. I took a second to think about my answer, admiring every little detail of her face with intensity.

“I want you to stay away, for your own sake and mine. I want you to stop tempting me, which you constantly do, even when you’re not trying. I want to go back to before I knew you, to before you occupied my every thought. And right now, I want you to stop looking at me like you want me to kiss you, because I’ve been dying to know what it would feel like from the moment I first saw you.”

She’d never been as tempting as she was now, with redness having claimed her cheeks, her lips parted in a silent plea, her eyes shiny and veiled with want.

Move away from her , my conscience shouted into my head. I ought to obey. I had to break whatever enchantment we were under.

“I don’t think I can,” she whispered.

“You must, Mila… For us both.”

“ You stop looking at me like you want to kiss me,“ she negotiated, glimpsing at my mouth.

I tried, but there was no getting out of this. Not this time. Defeated, I gazed at her parted lips again. “I can’t.”

As audacious as ever, she leaned forward slowly, done resisting.

And just as tempted, I didn’t fight it.

【43】Make Me Stop

If I had to think back on how we’d ended up in this situation, I wasn’t sure I would be able to pinpoint exactly when things had gone south. Maybe it was when he’d lowered just moments ago, coaxing me into his closeness, bringing his dashing face right next to mine.

Or when he’d sat there in silence, watching me work and keeping his eyes on me with the same interest as mine on the artifact. I’d sensed it all along, warming under his stare, both appreciative and conflicted about it.

Things could have derailed even before that, back when he’d called me skatt and had showed me the tusk, making me so deliriously happy that my heart had jumped out of my chest, my affection for him skyrocketing.

But the exact moment that had led to this didn’t matter all that much. What mattered was that he was right there, so handsome and so tempting, looking at me like I was the object of all of his desires, like he might burst into flames if he didn’t kiss me. Or I guessed he felt that way, since it was exactly what was going on with me.

“ You stop looking at me like you want to kiss me,“ I begged, my heart twitching at the request.

There was no way I’d be strong enough to move away. Not anymore, not when he’d been so remarkably perfect this entire time. I couldn’t find a single reason why I should prevent this, why we couldn’t kiss. We were two consenting adults, and we had the right to give in to our desires. Especially when they were so intense I could feel them tug at my core, heart, and mind, my skin prickling with excitation and need.

“I can’t,” he whispered back, sealing our fate.

He wanted this as much as I did, so we had to take it.

My body wasn’t mine to control anymore, entirely ruled by my need for him, by the intensity with which I longed to taste his lips. I leaned his way, heat coursing in my veins, a shiver running up my back, and every single hair on my body rising in anticipation. My heart was beating so fast and so hard that I could sense it down my throat, and heard it thumping in my ears.

An instant before our lips met, he angled his head in a different way, pressing his forehead against mine, halting my descent. His hand was still by my face from when he’d touched my hair, and he clasped my jaw with it, not harshly but firmly.

“Mila…” he mumbled, almost like a moan.

That didn’t help stop me, and I adjusted my position so our mouths could meet. He resisted once more, moving against my new attempt.

“Mila,” he said again, like a warning.

“Kiss me, Ulrik. Kiss me like you’ve wanted to kiss me from the moment you first saw me,” I begged, my voice so altered by need it was a low, sensuous whisper.

“ Elskling , once I start, I won’t be able to stop.“

“I won’t want you to…”

A dangerous groan rolled in his chest, but I ignored it, reaching for his nape with my hand, slipping my fingers on the warm skin there, sensing the trimmed hair at the base of his skull.

This time, when I moved forward to kiss him, I pulled him my way as well. Which was useless, because he gave in regardless.

For some reason, we both halted at the very moment our lips were about to join. I couldn’t tell if it was hesitation or anticipation, but for a couple of seconds, we remained utterly immobile, breathing each other, basking in the moment happening and the one about to come.

He smelled clean, like he always did, and there was this scent that was so uniquely his, a fragrance that triggered a wonderful feeling inside me every time it came to my nose. His scent was usually enough to brighten my day, to fill me with warmth and delight.

I broke first, closing my eyes and aligning my face with his.

The very instant our lips met, something electric spread inside of me, a powerful jolt that spanned from where we touched all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes.

I stayed utterly immobile for a moment, our mouth locked together in a light kiss, reveling in the sensations already arising inside me. I’d met the man barely two weeks ago, but somehow, it felt like I’d been waiting for this moment for months, years, my whole life…

It had been clear for a while now that I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anyone. But now that I was having him, I realized just how deeply and how profoundly I needed him. This could never stop. He had to kiss me until the end of time.

Starving for more, I pushed further, plastering my lips harder on his. A low, dangerous growl rolled in his chest, its vibration tickling my mouth. He was passive, much more than I’d expected, still adamantly trying to hold back, to not let this turn into a wildfire we wouldn’t be able to put out.

But I didn’t care about the aftermath, I didn’t care if we left this scorched all over. I wanted to feel it all, to go up in flames in his arms.

My hold on the back of his head tightened when I attempted once more to make him fold. I unclasped my jaw, parted my lips, and with a brush of my tongue, I sampled him.

To my delight, that set him off.

His hand had remained on my jaw the whole time, and I felt it grip me harder, proving I’d gotten to him. He let out a growl that resembled a curse, an animalistic manifestation of his desires taking over.

Shivers traveled inside of me when he tilted his head to the side slightly, using his hold on my lower face to adjust my angle too. Before I knew it, his mouth was on me with insistence, the tips of his tongue grazing against my lips as I’d done for him. My whole body trembled, already subdued by his mild ministrations.

Fully committed to this kiss now, he pushed down on my jaw, encouraging me to open up for him, and when I did, his tongue dove into my mouth, merciless and domineering. The butterflies that were swarming in my belly all gathered lower, to that sweet spot between my legs that was warming up with every second.

Overwhelmed by the lascivious touch of his tongue and my increasing arousal, I let out a soft moan, which landed right in his mouth.

My free hand moved to clasp itself on the other side of his neck, and I pulled him harder against me, answering his passion with equalling intensity. Soon, our tongues were grazing and dancing with one another, sparks of pure lust and pleasure awakening everywhere in my body.

We both adjusted our positions to facilitate the embrace we were lost into. It seemed that his earlier hesitation was entirely gone, leaving nothing behind but the raw desires he held for me. The desires he’d been riddled with ever since we’d met, just like I had been. What had felt like an endless wait was finally coming to an end, and there was no stopping it. Not even if we tried.

But that didn’t matter, because I wouldn’t have interrupted it for anything in the world.

His arm was still holding onto the table, and his other hand released my jaw so that he could tangle his fingers into my thick hair.

I wasn’t sure how, but never letting go of his lips, I ended up sliding down from my chair and onto his awaiting lap. While my enterprise might have been hard on his precarious balance, he didn’t let it make us fall over, probably using his muscular arm on the table to keep us afloat.

My chest was so swollen and achingly full that I worried I might implode, the persistent pressure in it preventing my lungs from filling themselves all the way. Our kiss was never ending, as though we were trapped in a spiral of needing more, and more, and more…

Already, I knew there would never be enough to satiate the need that I had for him.

But when everything began spinning, from the lack of oxygen as well as the heady sensations he was triggering in my mind, I forced myself to move away from his enchanting lips, regretting their touch the moment we separated. But it was better to take a break now, rather than faint and put a stop to everything.

As soon as I was free, I heaved for air, filling my compressed lungs the best I could. It seems he was as reluctant to let go as I was, because his lips sought more of me.

When he hungrily kissed the base of my throat, right where I knew a vein was pulsing with madness, I trembled over him and let out a faint moan.

“Ulrik,” I whimpered. Fisting the short blond strands on the back of his head, I forced him to look at me, depriving myself of the pleasure of his pecks on my collarbone.

He’d never looked this attractive, with his reddened cheeks, wet lips, and eyes so dark there was only a thin ring of blue left—the kind of blue one could find deep in the sea.

For a brief moment, I was taken back to the first time I’d seen him back at the Museum’s Viking gallery, looking so proper and unattainable. And now… now he was right there, as entranced by me as I was by him.

“Ask me to stop, Mila,” he asked, so poignant and intense. “ Make me stop.“

While I knew he was probably right, I refused to comply, something rebelling in me at the thought. “Never,” I grunted, bending over to claim his lips again.

The same sparks flew, the same butterflies palpitated, and the same electric shivers ran in my veins. I’d never done any hard drugs, but as I slipped my tongue deep in his mouth, ripping a groan out of him, I decided it was what it must feel like. This feeling so powerful I never wanted it to stop must have equaled the rush of cocaine or heroin. And just like any other addict, I’d need my regular fix of it or I’d go mad.

I realized we’d shifted when both his hands landed on my hips, over my thick high-waisted jeans, but I was too busy to waste any time looking around. As long as we were still kissing and our bodies were pressed together, I didn’t need to know what was going on.

When his hands slid to my ass, palming each mound with eagerness, I moaned his name again, fisting the fine fabric of his shirt. He made me move, handling me with ease, and I ended up straddling him, my intimacy pressed right against the hard shape under his zipper.

“I want you,” I whispered, almost begging, pressing myself harder onto him.

“I know.”

Not expecting his answer, I moved back enough to meet his eyes. They were filled with a mix of lust and indecision. Was he still trying to hold back? Had he not fully given in to me yet? He was now sitting on the floor by the table, with me on top of him, our chests grazing.

“Don’t you want me too?”

“You know I do. You can feel how much I do,” he replied, thrusting up just a little so I could feel his hard-on. The simple act sent sparks into my core. Being seated on his erection during the buggy ride, and having it against my intimacy like this, were two very different things.

“I’m done fighting this, Ulrik. I’ve tried to stay away, tried to bottle it up and ignore it, tried not to want you… But I can’t. It’s impossible.”

His hand abandoned my hip, and he lifted it to my face. There, he proceeded to run two fingertips on my temple, and gathered the messy strands of my hair behind my ear. While he did that, his eyes scanned my features intently, inches away from me.

When he spoke again, his voice was low. It was what I imagined it to be early in the morning when he just woke up. “I know the feeling, kjære .”

I didn’t need more than that to press my lips on his again.

【44】Perfect Everywhere

Just like the ones before, our kiss rapidly got out of hand. Before I knew it, my arms were wrapped around him tightly as his held me the same way. He leaned back, which I only realized because my forearms met the floor. In need of another breathing break, I broke our kiss and lowered.

His shirt was unbuttoned enough for me to enjoy the sight of his thick throat, muscles and tendons rippling under his pale skin. While my mouth dropped to it, my trembling fingers reached for the next button to expose more of him.

As I kissed, licked, and nibbled on his warm skin, his hands busied themselves as well, fondling my behind and pulling on the silk of my shirt to dislodge it from under my jeans. The touch of his hand on the bare skin of my back made me shiver and let out a trembling breath.

Despite my clumsiness, I managed to open his shirt all the way to the belt of his pants, and with an impatient gesture, I sat up and opened it wide to expose his amazing torso and the tattoos drawn on it. The sight of it, so perfect and manly, made me feral with want, reducing to ashes the little restraint I had left.

I plunged back into him, devouring his lips once more, and my hips began grinding on him, dry humping him while he encouraged me to do so with his solid hands. One of them slid under the silk of my shirt, which he’d managed to free from my jeans, and I moaned in appreciation when his large palm and long fingers cupped my breast over my bra. He squeezed and fondled it just the right way, finding my hardened nipple and pinching it between his thumb and index.

“Aah, yes,” I moaned.

I barely had time to recover from it, and the world spun for a second. My back met with the cold concrete of the floor, our legs colliding with my desk chair. Ulrik sent it rolling further from us with an irritated groan and returned his attention to me.

He was now nested between my parted legs, his crotch plastered on mine, holding his upper body up with his muscular arms, resting on his elbow. His opened shirt hung loosely on his shoulders, allowing me to glimpse at his flexed chest and abs. His gaze on me was burning in its intensity.

As I was about to slip my hand into the opening of his shirt, to graze his taut skin covered in tattoos, he clasped my wrist and pinned it next to my head. My other hand knew the same fate, and I ended up trapped below him, writhing helplessly.

“How would you get yourself out of this situation, Mila?”

There was some playfulness in his lust-filled eyes, and his semi smirk made my walls throb onto themselves. He kept his firm hold on my wrists as he bent to kiss my throat.

“I wouldn’t,” I breathed out, swallowing hard when his tongue grazed the hollow spot between my collarbones. A button of my shirt had somehow become undone, revealing some of the pink lace of my bra. Which he gazed at, his grin growing wider.

“No rehearsed technique to get out of this hold?”

“I said I wouldn’t, not that I couldn’t. Why would I get out when I’m exactly where I want to be?”

Just to prove that I meant it, I arched and pushed against his crotch with mine, gifting myself with yet another spark of pleasure, my intimacy ripe and ready for him. If only I was out of my jeans and he didn’t have his pants on…

“I want to feel you inside of me, Ulrik…”

“Do you, now?” He released one of my hands, which I used to clasp his neck again and attempt to bring him my way.

But he resisted me and pushed two fingers down the opening of my silk shirt instead. When he pulled on it, I understood he wanted to reveal more of me. The button lost the battle quickly, popping out instead of ripping, and his fingers then slid under the cup of my bra. His gaze was so focused on his action, it was almost funny. But when he pulled the bra low enough to reveal the darkened tip of my breast, all notions of amusement left me.

“So fucking perfect everywhere,” he mumbled to himself right before he lowered to engulf it between his lips.

I jolted under him at the sensation of his tongue drawing circles that teased the hard tip, his mouth sucking it in lightly. His hips followed mine, and we ended up dry humping again, with my hand held prisoner by his and my other one pushing him harder onto me. It felt so impossibly good that I couldn’t imagine the pleasure getting any greater. But when he added his teeth to the mix, gently nibbling on my sensitive nip, I was proven wrong.

A small cry followed his ministrations, and I arched madly, my pussy throbbing with intensity. I was very much done with the foreplays, and I needed things to move on to the next stage or I’d go mad. When he released my hand, I instantly brought it to his round ass, pulling him harder onto me.

“I’m so wet for you,” I whimpered.

His raspy groan was like music to my ears, vibrating against my nipple. He released it and moved to observe me in grave silence for a moment.

Since I hadn’t gotten my fill of him yet—far from it—I lifted myself for another kiss, slipped my hands in the opening of his shirt to caress the hard muscles of his back, locked my ankles behind him, and undulated harder below him.

“Please, I need you,” I moaned into our kiss. “I need you to fuck me, to ruin me, to destroy me…”

When he pulled away, I tried to keep him there, biting on his lower lip. With a surprised chuckle that resembled a growl, he forced me to let go. This time, when he met my eyes, there were no traces of hesitation left. All that remained were lust, desire, and affection.

“I never want to ruin or destroy you, Mila.” He paused, just long enough for me to think he would back out of this. Instead, he switched to one arm so he could reach between us with his other hand, fumbling with his belt. “But to fuck you? Elskling , I’m about to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”

My relieved smile was swallowed by his urgent kiss, my heart beating so hard in my chest I could feel it everywhere—in my throat, ears, and most of all, between my legs.

This was happening. Finally, after all this wait, all this aching want, I was about to have him inside of me, to feel his thick length stretch my drenched pussy. I was so impossibly horny, it wouldn’t surprise me if I orgasmed by the time he was buried to the hilt.

As he struggled with his belt, I proceeded to undo the button of my jeans, and then lowered the zipper. He still wasn’t done when I was, so I assisted him with nervous hands. Together, we opened the belt in a blink, and I then moved on to his pants.

I was just done sliding his zipper all the way down when a familiar melody breached through the foggy haze of lust. We both froze as it chimed all around us, echoing in the room.

Dinner was served.

I whimpered in protest, crushed by the terrible timing. It couldn’t have been worse. A few more seconds and he would have slid my jeans down my legs, freed himself, and entered me. Ten seconds. Couldn’t it have been ten seconds later?

Panting and trembling, I looked up at him, hoping he would know what to do next. I was too far gone for us to stop now. He had to take me, or I’d explode into a million pieces. It didn’t have to be long, honestly. Two minutes would suffice for me to come. Maybe even one.

But while the influence of desire lingered on his face, it was clear to me that he was completely out of it. He was utterly shocked, as if someone had thrown a bucket of icy water on him. His doubts and hesitation were overpowering everything else again.

“Ulrik…” I began, about to beg him to keep going. But I stopped at once, heartbroken, when he pulled away from me.

Kneeling between my legs, he stared down at my rapturous state for a brief moment, and then passed a nervous hand on his face. A little lost, I rose to my elbows when he supplely stood up. For the second time today, his clothes were askew and wrinkled because of me, but I had no regret this time. He avoided looking at me, taking care of pushing his shirt into his pants.

“Ulrik,” I called him again, to no avail.

The hardness of the floor made itself noticed, even though I’d been oblivious to it moments ago. I sat up and brought my knees up to my chest, struggling to contain my arousal, as well as the pain blooming in my chest. Aside from the erection that was still straining against his pants, it was as though he’d turned a switch. The passionate and heated man he’d been moments ago was completely gone, transformed into a cold and distant stranger.

“Ulrik, please…”

Once more, he ignored me. With every second that he wasn’t looking at me or acknowledging me, the pain below my ribs intensified, winning over the aching need I had for him. He finished fastening his pants, took care of his belt, and then did the buttons of his shirt from bottom to top. His gestures were so precise, I could tell he’s done it thousands of times.

When he was done, and after passing a hand in his hair to arrange it, he let out a deep sigh and stared blankly in front of him for a few seconds. Eventually, he turned to me. He looked so grave and serious, towering over me with all his might, that I shivered where I sat.

“I lost control. Sorry for that.”

“You los— What?” Confusion spread in my mind.

“It shouldn’t have happened.”

“It was always going to happen,” I argued, forcing myself to get up. Just as he’d done, I arranged my clothes. His cold shower had occurred when the dinner bell had rang, and mine was happening now.

“We’re more than our desires and instincts, Mila. It wasn’t supposed to happen, and it shouldn’t have.”

I had learned a long time ago that words could hurt a lot more than fists, but I was now realizing that some stuff could be even worse than that. His words were painful to hear, without a doubt, but it was nothing compared to what his detached demeanor did to me. He was so composed, so aloof, I almost couldn’t believe he was the same man who’d been about to “fuck me like I’d never been fucked before.”

“Are you for real right now?” I asked, doing my best to hide how hurt I was. Since I was just done buttoning my jeans and adjusting my shirt and bra, I crossed my arms over my chest to prevent myself from reaching out for him.

“Weren’t you the one insisting that your visit had to remain ‘strictly professional’ when you first arrived?”

My jaw dropped, and the cruel jab punched the air out of my lungs. Just in case it was a mistake and he’d retract his words instantly, I said nothing for a few seconds, staring at him with shock and offense all over my face.

But he remained mute, holding my gaze with determination.

For some reason, I suddenly felt dirty, soiled by his touch and kisses. Disgust for him and for me filled my mind as I realized I’d been fooled by him. Again.

“You’re such a fucking dickhead,” I spat, pure loathing in my tone. Once more, he didn’t reply, keeping his eyes on me instead.

Eager to set some distance between us, I grabbed my phone from the desk and walked to the stairs at a determined pace. Once I reached the upper floor, I turned back to him, noting he hadn’t moved one inch.

“Great job at not ruining me, Ulrik,” I sourly added, holding back tears of humiliation.

Even though I knew it was a childish and despicable gesture, I slammed the door behind me once I was out—along with Reggie, who’d diligently followed me.

As I crossed the gallery to get to the next stairs, I forced myself to slow down and take deep and slow breaths. Yuko didn’t have to know what had happened downstairs. No one had to know.

Not even Gigi. Especially not Gigi.

Fuck that man.

【45】Aftermath

By the time I reached the living area of the house, I still wasn’t ready to face Yuko. My interaction with Ulrik had turned me into a trembling mess, thin-skinned and irritable. I couldn’t believe this man and his mood swings. And I was pissed at myself for letting go and giving in, despite promising to myself a week ago that I wouldn’t.

So, with hurried steps, I crossed the living room space and hurried my pace as I got closer to the kitchen. Yuko noticed me, and when she offered me one of her sweet smiles, I forced one on my face.

“I’ll be right back, Yuko. I need to fetch something in my room first,” I lied, averting my eyes right after.

A few seconds later, I was alone in my room, leaning against the closed door, doing my best to sort my tumultuous emotions. It didn’t help that my body hadn’t gotten the memo yet. I was still terribly aroused, my heart was beating madly under my ribs, and my intimacy was craving what Ulrik had so vividly promised, begging for satisfaction.

My eyes were lost somewhere on the windows opposite me, staring a hundred miles into nothingness. Had all of this really happened? Ulrik and I had really kissed? Nearly had sex, even, on the floor of the reserve?

It had. It truly and undeniably had.

And then he’d rejected me like it was nothing.

Oh, God… How was I supposed to face him after this? I’d just asked him if I could stay longer and he’d accepted, which only made things worse. Although, I supposed he wasn’t looking forward to more interactions with me anymore. Not when he’d been so cruel and cold.

Remembering that dinner was about to be served, and refusing to give Yuko any suspicions, I headed to the bathroom. There, I splashed some water over my face, and then soaped it everywhere with foamy hands, to clean every surface he’d dropped kisses on. Remnants of him didn’t deserve to be on me.

A halt on the toilet informed me that I needed an underwear change as well, leaving me stunned to see just how insanely wet I’d gotten. The drenched lace only confirmed what I already knew. I’d never been this aroused before. Never in my life had I desired a man like I desired him, and those few minutes of mindless bliss had brought me more satisfaction and pleasure than some sexual encounters I’d had with other men.

At least, until the moment it had gone to shit; the moment he’d ruined everything, leaving me humiliated and ashamed.

All in all, I spent less than five minutes in my room, regaining my composure and ridding myself of his touch on me. I needed that to face dinner with him.

When I returned to the living area, Yuko was just done setting everything on the table. She was the only one there, and I hated how my eyes scanned the room in search of Ulrik. I desperately wanted to act unfazed and unbothered, but it was above my strength. He’d messed me up once more, and I would need time to heal from this new blow.

As I reached the table, I noticed there were only two plates set up. At the prospect of being alone with him, I considered pretending that I wasn’t feeling well, and then asking for a tray so I could eat in my room. But it was the cowardly way, and it would mean showing Ulrik just how affected I was.

I was pulling on my chair when he made his entrance. After the briefest contact with our eyes, I ripped my gaze from his and focused on getting seated. The sooner we were done with this dinner, the faster I’d be away from him.

Without a word, I sat down, staring at the food before me rather than him. When his powerful hands gripped the upper corners of the back of his chair, my eyes darted to them. These hands had been all over me moments ago, fondling, squeezing, and caressing…

“I’m afraid I just got an email I’ll need to handle as quickly as I can,” he declared, addressing the room as a whole, not me in particular. “I’ll have my dinner in my office, if you don’t mind, Yuko.”

“You don’t want dinner here for Miss Mila last day?”

I sensed his eyes on me, but didn’t flinch. “I would, but as I said, it’s an emergency. Miss Connelly will be staying with us a little longer, though, so I’ll get to make up for it.”

“Oh, she staying?” Although she knew I was considering it, I hadn’t confirmed to Yuko if I would stay or not. I, myself, was surprised that Ulrik was still agreeing to keep me in his house.

Her enthusiastic question warmed my heart, only to make it twinge in pain when I realized things might change once more. Even if he was fine with me staying, it didn’t mean that I was.

“It is my understanding that she’s staying, yes,” Ulrik answered Yuko. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll withdraw to my study.”

I only dared to look at him once his back was to me, watching him retreat to his home office. Had the dinner bell not interrupted us, his evening would have been busy with something else. And I would have been the fool for it, falling for his charm once more.

“Well, if he not eat here, he can have a tray and I eat with you, Miss Mila,” Yuko decided once he was out of sight.

“I’d love that, thank you.” Anything to distract my thoughts away from him.

It took her less than a minute to prepare a tray for Ulrik, with a glass of wine, a generous plate filled with the food she’d set on the table, and a serving of bread as well as cheese. Then she walked with it all the way to where he’d left. She came back empty-handed after a moment, and sat on the other side of the table in front of me.

Unsurprisingly, I wasn’t the greatest at making conversation. But it was okay, because Yuko was in a chatty mood. Once dinner was done, as well as tidying up after it, I excused myself and returned to the reserve, as I usually did. There, I was welcomed by the memory of what had happened, with my chair rolled away from the desk.

After three hours of tedious work where I barely managed to get anything done, I called it quits. The awareness of what had occurred — and what nearly did — on that very floor was overpowering anything else. Defeated, I headed back upstairs.

Once I was in front of my room’s door, I took a moment to think about the predicament I suddenly found myself in.

It didn’t seem appropriate to extend my trip to Norway. If I were staying somewhere else, and only coming in for long days of work, then things might be different. Not getting to study the rest of Ulrik’s collection would be crushing, but part of me preferred that to the alternative — staying in this house with him so close.

I glanced at the end of the corridor, wondering if he’d gone to bed already. He was usually still in his office by the time I came up for the night, but I’d seen no ray of light under his office’s door this time. For a few seconds, I wondered if I should walk down the length of the hallway and knock on his door. I would formally and professionally tell him I wasn’t staying after all, and then I’d get home in the morning, as originally planned. Yuko would be saddened by my decision, but really, it was what was best for my sanity.

A brush on my legs made me look down, and I grimaced when I glanced down at Reggie. Shit, I’d have to handle him as well. Maybe I could leave earlier, ask to be dropped in Trondheim where I could hand him to a shelter, and then take a shuttle on my own to the airport. Ulrik hated the cat too much to take care of him, and I wouldn’t ask it of him, regardless. As for Yuko, she couldn’t drive, and it would imply involving Jakob as well.

No, this ball of white fur was my responsibility, so I’d handle him myself.

“We’re going on a road trip tomorrow,” I told him with a sigh, opening the door.

He walked in there without hesitation and went to settle on the bed. Ten minutes later, I was joining him after my evening routine, slipping under the covers.

As I lay there, with nothing to distract me away from my guilt and shame, everything came back crashing. I’d kissed Ulrik. I’d almost fucked him. The biggest breakthrough in my career was now compromised because I couldn’t keep my hormones in check.

What have I done?

Impulsively, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, in great need of my better half’s support.

Gi, I messed up.

I sent.

With my phone on the covers over my chest, I waited for her response. Given the hour, she was either finishing up at the restaurant, having a drink with her team, or on her way home. Hopefully, she’d get back to me quickly, so I could unload some of my issues on her, which would help me fall asleep.

The phone buzzed, and when I checked the screen, I saw she was video calling me. I picked up, making her appear on the screen within a second. It cast some light onto my face, which appeared in the upper corner. She was on her way home, the night streets of London behind her.

“Did you have sex with him?” she excitedly asked.

“What!? No! Why do you look so pleased with the idea?”

Her overjoyed expression turned to disappointment. “Oh, I thought that was the way you messed up.”

“It wasn’t, and I can’t believe you’d be happy if it was. Gi, you’re supposed to be my voice of reason,” I reminded her with a scolding tone.

“Right, sorry for rooting for you and a rich, handsome, and charming man who’s obsessed with you. I’m such a terrible, terrible friend…”

“No need to go all sarcastic on me.”

“I can’t help it. Sarcasm is in my veins. But stop trying to change the subject, sweets. What did you do?”

I twisted under the covers, suddenly uncomfortable. Reluctantly, I forced myself to tell her the truth. “I kissed him.”

“You did?!” Her earlier excitement was back at full capacity, and she stared back at me through the screen, her smile so wide I could probably count all her teeth.

“Yes,” I admitted with a grimace.

“And how was it?!”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“No, I really don’t. Enlighten me, Mimi.” Her smug face would have gotten a shove of my hand if I’d been with her.

“It was fantastic. Steamiest, most amazing kiss I’ve ever had.”

“Ah! I knew it! The man knows what he’s doing.”

Images of the passionate moment we’d shared came back in overwhelming details, and I closed my eyes to focus on chasing them away. “This isn’t good, Gi. This is very bad.”

“Oh, come on… You’re a big girl, he’s a very big boy, and you want each other. You two kissing doesn’t have to be bad.”

“It’s not the kiss. I could handle the kiss. It’s—” A sob I didn’t know was coming interrupted my words.

This and the tears that followed made Gigi realize that something was wrong. Her voice was laced with worry when she spoke again. “What is it, sweets? What happened?”

“I like him,” I confessed between two unstoppable sobs. “I really li-like him… But then he finds a way to ruin it a-all and hurt me. I don’t even know wh-what to do anymore. I’m so lost, Gi.”

“You like him like you could grow feelings for him?”

The question took me by surprise, as I’d somehow done my best to ignore that aspect of things. Now that I was thinking about it, though, it was more than obvious that the version of Ulrik I adored was easy to fall for. The way my chest bloomed with this delightful feeling when I saw him, the swarms of butterflies that invaded my stomach when he was near… He occupied my every thought, even when he wasn’t around, and I’d often found myself wishing he could come down and visit me in the reserve like he sometimes did.

All of this was infatuation, at the very least, and it was already too much. It was far more than the sexual tension we’d been navigating around, and way beyond the professional relationship we were supposed to maintain.

“I think it’s already happening,” I confessed to Gigi with a sob. “Or it was. I don’t know… I don’t want this. He’s too unstable and impossible to read. For the past few days, he has been this charming, caring, and considerate man… But then he flipped when we kissed. He pushed me away like it was nothing.”

“Out of nowhere?”

“Yeah, he just— One second we were devouring each other, and the next he was telling me it shouldn’t have happened and reminding me we were supposed to remain professional.”

“After everything that’s been happening between you two, everything you told me, he still tries to pretend like he’s not interested in more?!” She sounded positively outraged.

“Yeah… But I don’t want more either. Not anymore. It’s humiliating when he rejects me, and I don’t like being this weak and helpless idiot, completely entranced by him.”

“You’re many things, sweets, but you’re not an idiot. He is, though, for sure.”

“He really isn’t,” I countered with a grimace.

“Allow me to doubt that, since he’s so carelessly blowing his shot with you.”

“Maybe something’s wrong with me. Maybe I’m not wantable.”

“No! You do not say that! Not ever, Mimi, and not for anyone,” she scolded me with intensity. “I’m not making excuses for him, because fuck that man,” she continued, angered at Ulrik, “but it sounds to me that he’s struggling with his own demons, and that was some kind of defense mechanism. But it’s got nothing to do with you, Mimi. You’re damn perfect, and you deserve better than this bullshit. Whatever problem he has, you aren’t responsible for it. He just needs therapy—loads of it.”

I rolled to the side, dislodging Reggie from between my legs. With a loud sniff, I stared at Gigi’s supportive face on the screen. “I think you were right,” I told her.

“Well, I’m always right. But about what?”

“I only attract the wrong kind of men.” Sadness gained over me again, and more tears rolled down my temple and pooled against the side of my nose.

“Oh, please stop crying, darling. He doesn’t deserve your tears. Not one of them.”

“I really like him so much when he’s not being a jerk.”

She replied to my statement with a contrite and supportive smile. “That’s men for you, Mila. It’s why I choose women for love. Are you coming home tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I can’t stay after this. He agreed that I could, but I’d rather come back and get away from him. I’ll handle Reggie in the morning and then head to the airport.”

“Is Reginald with you?”

I nodded and twisted the phone so she could see him lying by my side. There wasn’t enough light to illuminate him properly, but his eyes shined in the dark. “I’m glad you’re not alone,” Gigi said with warmth. “It’s good that you’ll get to say bye to Slim before that woman comes and gets him on Wednesday.”

Her attempt at making me see the bright side of things made a small smile creep up my face. “I’ll miss him.”

“Me too. Maybe we should try to hand her Donald instead. I can’t deal with this glutton anymore.”

“What did he do this time?”

“Found him on the counter yesterday, eating the dinner I spent two hours cooking for Vick and me.”

“That’s on you for leaving food out,” I said with a discreet laugh.

“And it’s on you for being some sort of cat magnet.”

As if she knew exactly what I needed, Gigi kept talking to me about random things, taking my mind off Ulrik. I needed that, even if it was just for a moment. By the time she got home, we were still talking, so she got to show me the cats. She stayed with me the whole time during her evening routine, and I accompanied her as she slipped into her bed. Her familiar voice lulled me to sleep as she told me everything about her weekend.

I’d be with her the next day, and the prospect was comforting. I’d be so much better at home than here, away from Ulrik and the conflicting feelings he triggered in me.

Anything was better than this; better than being near him.

【46】Fight-or-Flight

Waking up more tired than when I’d gone to sleep had always felt like a terrible waste of time. Why spend seven hours stuck doing nothing if there are no benefits to it?

Given how I’d woken with a startle at every sound I’d heard, wondering if it was him , I should have simply abandoned and gone back downstairs to spend some last precious hours in the reserve.

The fact that I’d poorly slept only added to my sour mood when I made my way out of my bedroom on Tuesday, ready for my last breakfast at the Westergaard Estate. I’d packed nearly everything up already, with only my toiletries to take care of and add to my suitcase.

When I arrived in the kitchen, I quickly noticed that the counter had been dressed for only one person. The relief I felt upon realizing that made me blow out a reassured sigh. Ulrik must have been done already, and back to handling his “important email.” Part of me was disappointed by his cowardice, but I was also thankful for it. It made things easier.

“Hey Yuko,” I greeted her as I sat on the stool.

“Good morning, Miss Mila! How you sleep?”

“Not that well.”

“Yes, I can see.” She hadn’t meant it in a mean way at all, so her bluntness didn’t affect me. I’d noticed that my weariness showed, so no need to pretend otherwise. She didn’t comment on it more, though, and brought me a plate with two stacked waffles, brown cheese, and sliced apples.

I ate with little appetite, chewing and swallowing on autopilot, only so I wouldn’t offend or worry Yuko. I had yet to break it to her that I’d be leaving the estate within the next hour, so that I could catch my plane back to London later in the morning. She’d seemed so happy at the prospect of me staying that I knew she’d be crushed by this ultimate change of plans.

“Did Mr. Ulrik give you trouble?” she asked, completely out of the blue. When I looked up from my plate, I noticed she seemed genuinely concerned.

Disconcerted, I sent a glance behind to where his office was. Had he told her anything about what had happened? Did she know anything? When I focused on her again, she was patiently waiting for my response, but I had no idea what to tell her. No matter what had happened between him and me, he was still her employer, and there was no point slandering his image or painting an unflattering portrait of his actions toward me. She would most likely take his side anyhow, as she’d known him for infinitely longer than me, and her attachment to him surpassed her appreciation of me.

“No, he— Nothing happened,” I lied.

Her lips pursed in an unconvinced pout. “Did you give him trouble, then?”

“Maybe we gave each other a bit of trouble,” I ended up admitting.

She sighed and shook her head. “He a stubborn man,” she fussed. “I told him to talk to you before he leave, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Well, being just as stubborn as he was, I couldn’t quite blame him for it. If I could head to town without crossing his path once, I’d probably do it.

The meaning of her words finally breached through my uneasiness, and I frowned, confused. “Wait, you said he left?”

“He not even tell you?! Mr. Ulrik leave after dinner, to go to New York.”

“He isn’t here?”

She shook her head, visibly irritated but not at me, and then went to the pantry to fetch something.

It was as though a ball had materialized in my stomach, heavy and dense. Was this relief or disappointment? Why did I feel so conflicted about knowing I wouldn’t see him again until I left? Was it not exactly what I’d wanted moments ago?

Maybe this sour, resentful feeling was because he’d not even bothered telling me, fleeing in the middle of the night like a thief. But he might have warned me and I hadn’t seen it yet.

I grabbed my phone on the counter next to me and checked my notifications. There was nothing from him, no texts, no calls… I then went to inspect my professional email, even checking the junk in case it had gotten lost in there. But there was nothing. No, he’d really just disappeared on me, setting thousands of miles between us overnight.

Anger rose within me, irrational and venomous. All of this should have been a great thing, a fantastic twist. But it only proved once more that he didn’t care for me one bit, at least not enough to let me know about his unexpected travel, not enough to stay and fight.

In my blinding resentment for him, I opened the messaging app and went to my conversation with him. There, I typed

Coward

, and then hesitated, my thumb hovering on the Send button. If he’d gone last night, he’d arrived in New York by now. It was very early in the morning for him, so he might not see it for a few hours. He deserved to wake up, read it, and be ashamed before the day had even started.

Impulsively, I sent the message.

Yuko came back into the kitchen just as I did, so I let go of the phone and grabbed my fork instead. “It good you’re staying, Miss Mila. I don’t like to be alone in this house.”

My mouth opened to explain that I wouldn’t be staying after all, but I closed it swiftly, realizing that things were now different. My goal had been to get away from Ulrik, but he’d taken care of that already.

“How long will he be gone for?” I asked, the logical evolution of my epiphany.

“He did not say, but maybe three, four day?”

With raised eyebrows, I processed what this meant. I’d have three to four extra days of exploring the reserve. And without Ulrik around to distract me, I might actually get a lot of work done.

The rest of my breakfast was spent in relative silence as I processed this change of plans. I’d have to tell Gigi who’d probably be disappointed but understanding. And I’d get more time to handle Reggie, and— Ah, I’d miss saying goodbye to Slim Shady… Well, Gi would hug him hard on my behalf.

I was still lost in my thoughts when Yuko came next to me with a steaming cup of tea. She climbed onto the high chair near mine and settled her mug on the counter. For a moment, she fidgeted with the porcelain rim, staring at something undefined in front of her.

“You know… He is not a bad man.” she began, hesitant. “I don’t know what happen between you, but I feel he hurt you. Mr. Ulrik is a good man, even if he doesn’t always feel that way. Life is just complicated for him, and he lose his way sometimes. But I know he a good person, I know he has best intention and a kind heart. Whatever he did to you, Miss Mila, I apologize.”

Too affected by her words to meet her eyes, I stared at my nearly empty plate instead. I could hear in her voice that she meant it, that she truly believed Ulrik to be a decent person, one worthy of forgiveness. But it was too little, too late, and she wasn’t the one who needed to atone for anything. If Ulrik had, indeed, the best intentions and a kind heart, he wouldn’t have fled all the way to New York without a word to me, without apologizing for his behavior and harsh words.

She was either biased because of their history, or he only showed her the sweet version of him she was now defending, the version of him I adored and couldn’t get enough of. But I also knew the other side of him, which could be cruel.

“You’re not the one who needs to apologize,” I eventually told her, meeting her eyes. “Ulrik and I are just not meant to get along, and I’ve accepted that now.”

She sighed deeply before taking a sip of her tea to give herself some time. “He really like you, you know?”

I scrunched my nose, suddenly uncomfortable. “He has an odd way of showing it.”

“Like I say, he lose his way sometimes. Life hasn’t been kind to him.”

My first reflex was to look around at the splendid house he lived in, but I was then reminded that material success didn’t equal a perfect life. He’d been orphaned at a young age, raised by relatives and sent to a boarding school as early as acceptable… Some emotional immaturity from him could be expected.

But he was in his thirties to mid-thirties if I had to guess, which meant he’d had time to work on his traumas and issues, to heal from them to some extent. It wasn’t my job to be his therapist and fix him. I’d done this kind of relationship in the past, and I’d learned the hard way that love didn’t conquer all in the end.

“I believe you when you say he’s a good man,” I told Yuko with a small, compassionate smile. “But he’s not the good man for me.”

She nodded contritely, holding her cup with both her hands as though to warm them.

“But thank you for trying to mend things, Yuko. I appreciate your concern.”

“I was just trying to have more of you in the future, Miss Mila.”

There was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes, and it lightened the mood enough to make me smile genuinely. “Well, if ever you’re in London, you give me a call. And if I have a trip to Trondheim for work, I’ll let you know.”

She nodded with a grin, drinking from her cup again. “Oh, I forgot!” she exclaimed, surprising me.

After she’d swiftly climbed down the chair, she hurriedly headed to the entrance, where she retrieved a package before coming back with it.

“Jakob got it yesterday in town and left it this morning. Mr. Ulrik said it was for you,” she explained, settling it next to me on the counter.

Warily, I eyed the package, countless questions and doubts running through my mind. What on earth was this?

“He say to let him know if it’s not right,” Yuko added, visibly impatient for me to open it.

Still disconcerted, I proceeded to tear the tape away from the box’s opening. It was average in size but rather heavy. As soon as I opened it, the logo of the box beneath revealed its content. He’d bought a camera for me?

I pulled the package out with furrowed brows, examining the picture on the box. I’d mentioned wishing I had one of those, so I could get clearer pictures of the pieces and also do a scan of the tapestry, which Henry would assemble back home. While I vaguely remembered him saying he’d see what he could do about it, I hadn’t expected him to actually go out of his way like this.

“Is it good model?” Yuko asked.

“Uh… I think so, yeah.” I wasn’t knowledgeable about such things, but it would do the job better than my phone and tablet had, for sure.

When I returned to my room once we were done, I was greeted by my opened suitcase, all packed and ready to go on the bed. Was I really doing this? Was I staying another few days until Ulrik came back? Part of me wondered if his last-minute trip to New York had been a necessary duty, or if he’d wanted to escape my presence. Maybe he’d gone to clear the way for me, so I’d feel more comfortable staying.

With a conflicted groan, I went to my luggage and took out a pile of clothes. Staying around meant I’d need to do some laundry, as I was running out of things to wear. I’d ask Yuko to show me how things work and handle it myself.

Her words about Ulrik kept coming back to me, about him being a good man despite appearances, about his hard upbringing, about his heart of gold…

Just then, I was reminded of the text I’d sent him. In retrospect, it felt… harsh. The man I’d grown to appreciate didn’t deserve that, only the asshole side of him. Feeling guilty, I snatched my phone from my back pocket and opened our conversation. He still hadn’t seen the text, so I pressed my thumb on it until the option to delete it appeared. After half a second of hesitation, I deleted the

Coward

, which turned into

Message deleted

instead.

Crap.

I stared at it for a moment, wondering what he’d think of it. Would he imagine I’d sent him a long and embarrassing message and then had changed my mind? Would my original message appear as a notification, anyway?

Just in case it could, I typed another message, hoping it would replace a potential notification and make it all less awkward.

Thanks for the camera.

I sent instead.

Ultimately, it didn’t matter if that didn’t work. If I handled this well, I wouldn’t see him again for a while. I’d leave this place before he got back, avoiding any further interactions with him. Why should I care what he might think of that deleted message?

I was done caring about his opinion of me. It turned out I was wrong about it every time, anyway.

【47】Snooping Around

As it turned out, spite was one hell of a motivator. In the following three days, I went over as much of the collection as I had in a whole week. And that included taking proper pictures of everything again, using the state-of-the-art camera Ulrik had bought for the occasion.

Free of his distracting presence, and spurred to accomplish the most I could in the little time I had left, my focus became extreme. Every morning, I’d wake up early and head downstairs to the gym to run for an hour on the treadmill. Then, after a quick shower, I’d eat breakfast with Yuko before coming down to the reserve to work.

Overall, I worked around fourteen hours a day, only taking breaks when nature called for it or when the meal bell rang. I was drowning in it, but I didn’t mind. Keeping my mind busy at all times prevented me from thinking about Ulrik, so the long hours were welcomed.

Yuko’s presence and company prevented me from feeling lonely, though, which was nice. Since Ulrik was gone and she judged it bad etiquette to leave a guest alone, she now ate with me at every meal. During those few days we spent with just the two of us, I grew to appreciate her even more. During her time with the Westergaards, she’d experienced a life of adventures and travels, which she loved talking about.

As we lunched together on Thursday, she finally confided her medical issues with me. She explained her condition and how the doctors weren’t so optimistic. Her leukemia was stagnating despite her treatments, which wasn’t as good as it receding, but better than it getting worse. A few hours later, after we’d had dinner, Jakob came to fetch her so he could drive her to Trondheim. She’d have another round of chemo on the next day, Friday, and then stay in the hospital until Monday before coming back. She preferred it that way, she’d explained to me, since the first few days following her treatment were the worst and she didn’t want to bother anyone with her bad state.

Standing by the front door, I watched the car drive away, an acute sensation of solitude invading me. A light shiver ran up my back as I tightened my oversized cardigan around me, crossing my arms over my chest.

I was now alone, stranded in this massive house that still felt foreign to me. Never in a million years would I have imagined that things would take this turn, that I’d be the only one left in the house of a work acquaintance.

Once the car’s taillights were out of sight, I returned inside and closed the door behind me, making sure to lock it. I’d never felt unsafe here, isolated as the estate was, perched on the flank of the fjord. But knowing I would be alone from now on changed things. At least I’d get to do whatever I wanted, like walk barefooted on the immaculate heated floors, have breakfast in my pajamas, and use the sound system to blast some music for my entertainment.

Yes, I could make this work. Plus, I had Reggie with me, so I wasn’t entirely alone.

And even though this felt weird, I knew the house well after living there for ten days. I had no reason to be scared, as I knew how safe and secure it was.

With the cat in tow, I made my way to the reserve again, ready to get back into it. As soon as I sat, though, I was reminded of one part of this place that I didn’t know. One that had been on my mind since day one.

The mysterious door stood in front of me on the other side of the vast room, taunting me. Whatever Ulrik said was behind it, I didn’t believe him. I had access to the entire house except for

this room? That was more than enough to trigger my suspicions.

But there had been no occasion for me to unveil this mystery, and I was aware that it wasn’t right for me to even attempt to. If I never figured out what was stored in there, though, I’d wonder for the rest of my life.

If only I could open it…

A lightbulb went off in my head as I remembered the set of keys Yuko had given me before leaving, in case I needed to leave the house and such. I jumped to my feet like a spring and hastily headed upstairs. By the entrance hall, I grabbed the key ring hanging by the console near the door and made my way back to the reserve. The numerous keys chimed as I went through them while nearly running downstairs.

My heart was beating hard in my chest when I reached the mystery door, both from the effort and excitement. I tried one that seemed to fit, but it didn’t even go in. It took another four keys to find one that slipped in, but when I tried to turn it one way or another, the lock didn’t budge. With every key that failed, my enthusiasm died a little more, disappointment replacing my excitement.

When all eleven keys failed, my shoulders sank with defeat. Just in case I’d missed one or been clumsy, I tried them all again. That only got me to the same unsatisfying result.

Reggie was a few feet away from me, licking his paw and dragging it on his temple to clean himself. “I knew there was something fishy about that door,” I told him. “Eleven keys, and not one of them is for it? There has to be something huge in there.”

He halted his bath and gave me a blank look, his yellow eyes staring back at me. “Maybe there are more keys somewhere. There has to be one.”

I gave it a moment of reflection and quickly remembered another room from this house that I didn’t know.

Ulrik’s office.

There wasn’t a better place for such a key to be kept. It had to be in there, somewhere. Reggie stared at me as I pondered on how far I was willing to go to solve this mystery. Maybe I wouldn’t look for it too hard. Maybe I could just go into his office, look around, open a couple of drawers and cabinets, and that was it. No touching anything else, no scavenging through his stuff, no snooping like a lunatic. Just a reasonable, curious stroll.

On my way upstairs again, I did my best to ignore the guilty feeling that loomed over me. This didn’t feel right, but it also was my only shot at discovering was laid behind the door.

No one was home except me, and Reggie wouldn’t snitch on me, not after everything I’d done for him. I knew there were no security cameras in the house—I’d asked Yuko before she left, in case I needed to use the security system—so I couldn’t be caught that way.

Still, despite my sound reasoning, I remained in front of the office’s door for a solid minute, gathering the courage I needed to head inside. “In and out,” I whispered to myself. “You get in, look around, and get out.”

I took in a deep breath, nodded to myself, and opened the door. The light switch was where I expected it to be, so with a flick of my finger, I turned it on.

I stood by the door for a moment, discovering Ulrik’s office. Aside from a quick glance once as he was coming out for dinner, I’d never seen the inside of this room. But strangely enough, it was exactly as I’d imagined it. It not only matched the rest of the house, modern and expensive, it also suited its owner. It was all very organized and neat, with tasteful elements of decoration scattered around and touches of wood. Ulrik’s aura permeated the room, to the point that if the chair turned around and he was in it, I wouldn’t be surprised. It even smelled like him, and I wondered if he’d done that to the room, or if this room had done that to him.

Eager to find out more, I stepped inside, making my way toward one of the cabinets. Everything was neatly arranged on the shelves, and when I opened the doors, I noticed that the files and documents within were just as organized. There was no key in there, and I respected my decision not to shuffle through things. The second cabinet had nothing either, so I leisurely made my way to his massive desk, a wood and metal designer piece that sat in the middle of the room, angled in a manner that allowed him to peek at the splendid view during the daytime.

There wasn’t much on it, aside from the computer setup and a few other things—the usual trinkets of a desk. The chair was huge, its brown leather smooth and thick. I twisted it my way and dared to sit on it. Strangely enough, I almost expected it to be warm, as if he’d just exited the room, but the coldness seeped through my pants instead. It was odd to be there, sitting where he’d sat for what must have been thousands of hours. I found myself imagining I was him, handling important business, being the head of whatever company he owned.

Everything was so neat that a little out-of-place detail caught my eye. At the bottom right corner of his screen, there was a piece of transparent tape with something underneath. Upon closer inspection, I saw it was a small button. One I had seen before.

My lips parted as I understood it was the button I’d accidentally ripped from his expensive shirt the other day during our impromptu Krav Maga demonstration. Was it here so he’d remember asking Yuko to fix it? The man was pragmatic and remarkably efficient, so it made no sense that he’d take days to hand it to Yuko. Heck, he should have handed it to her within the following minutes of the incident. But if this wasn’t the purpose of this—taping the button to his screen where he could be reminded of it at all times—then why was it there at all?

I couldn’t make sense of this, troubled by this small piece of information. What could be his reasoning behind this? It didn’t align with the man who’d fled his own house and country to set an ocean between us.

Remembering that I was looking for a key, I dismissed my thoughts and looked for it instead. No sign of it in the drawers to the left, and when I moved on to the right, hope abandoned me. The top one on that side was secured with what looked like a fingerprint lock.

Damn it…

Since he went out of his way to ensure I couldn’t access the mystery room, it would make sense that he’d keep the key in there. I blew out my cheeks with disappointment, sitting back in the chair.

For some reason, it was only in that very moment that I realized just how fucked up my actions were. Yes, I was dying to know what was behind the door, but Ulrik was entitled to his secrets and privacy. I, on the other hand, had no right to invade his space like this, to demand to have my curiosity satisfied, as I was doing. Whatever was behind this door, it wasn’t mine to know or discover.

Ashamed of myself, I peaked at the tapped button one more time and rose from the chair. I did my best to leave it exactly as I’d found it, made sure I’d left nothing behind, and exited the office. Outside, Reggie was patiently waiting for me, and the look he gave me worsened my shame.

“Stop judging me, you ungrateful brat. It’s not my fault… The man does things to my head that don’t make sense, even to me.”

After I’d closed the door behind me, I walked to the stairs without a look behind, shaking my head and arms. I needed to stop letting this man get under my skin like this. It was frustrating beyond words, and definitely pathetic.

【48】Social Distancing

I did my best to ignore the mysterious door when I sat back at my temporary desk, deciding this had nothing to do with me and should be left alone. There was much to do that I didn’t need that kind of distraction at the moment. I’d now gone over two-thirds of the collection, books and documents excluded, and I gave myself the objective of finishing another shelving unit before taking a quick break, and then another unit before bed.

Unsurprisingly, once I began working again, I got overly absorbed. Instead of doing one unit as I’d planned, I ended up cataloging three. It was a long yawn accompanied by a gurgling protest from my stomach that made me check the time on my phone. My eyes widened when I noticed it was nearly three in the morning already. What the…

Disoriented, I looked around at the room, noticing Reggie sleeping soundly on a pillow I’d brought down here for him. Had I really been working nonstop for over five hours?! It had barely felt like two.

Focusing on my phone again, I checked out the few notifications I’d received. My shoulder sunk slightly when I realized none were from Ulrik.

He’d never replied to my text thanking him for the camera, even though I knew he’d seen it. We hadn’t spoken, texted, or emailed since that moment of foolishness. Without missing a beat, my eyes traveled to the spot on the floor where we’d made out, the spot where a lot more had been seconds away from happening.

As always when I thought about that evening, regrets filled my mind. Regrets that I’d kissed him, but also regrets about things not going further. And I hated that.

Although I was ashamed of that fact, I would choose to let it happen. If it was my decision and I could go back in time somehow, I’d let Ulrik fuck me on that very floor, just to know what it felt like, just to confirm that it would have been the best sex of my life.

Even with the reality of his harsh rejection, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like. But with everything I knew now, I wouldn’t stay for more than that. Right after our hypothetical quick shag—as Gigi would say—I’d head back to London. I didn’t need the man to mess me up any further. I just needed him to fuck me once to satisfy my curiosity.

Things hadn’t gone that way, though, and everything was now different. While I was inclined to change the past, the future was another story. Now, I preferred avoiding him if I could and keeping our relations professional—as they should have always remained. Not seeing him again, aside from rare occasions at the Museum, seemed like an easy feat to accomplish.

I leaned back in my chair with a long sigh, rubbing my strained eyes with the bottom of my palms. Part of me wished I could get more done tonight, but noticing the hour seemed to have drained every ounce of motivation out of me. I’d already done a lot more than I’d intended, which was great. But I would either sleep in for a bit the next day, or be exhausted for most of it. And it might be my last day with the collection, since it was possible Ulrik would return. Yuko had said three to four days, after all.

Upon checking the second clock on my home screen, which I’d set up to know my father’s time, I saw it was nearly nine in the evening for the East Coast. It was the perfect time to contact him again, wasn’t it? He wouldn’t be at work anymore, but it was too early for him to be asleep or about to.

I opened the texting app and hesitated for an instant. My previous message had been ignored, and I wondered if he’d do that again. This wasn’t something I could afford, especially if he came back tomorrow. I needed to book a flight and be gone before he returned.

After some hesitation, I decided to call him instead. I’d be succinct and professional, which should make it okay. But at least I’d have an answer within minutes, rather than wait and wait for a response that might never come. Two tones passed, and I wondered if he’d pick up. By the time the third one was done, I was convinced he wouldn’t. I was ready to hang up, feeling foolish to have even tried, when the fourth tone was cut midway.

“Hello?” a woman answered, her voice soft and sultry.

The shock of hearing this stranger instead of Ulrik rendered me mute. With my mouth gaping, I tried to sort through my emotions and thoughts. Was this… Did he—

I checked on my phone to make sure I hadn’t picked the wrong person, but saw his name on my screen. It was his number.

“Hello?” the woman repeated, louder and dragging the word.

My chest was so tight that I struggled to breathe. A mix of jealousy and resentment filled me, even though I wasn’t entitled to either of those emotions. He was free to do whatever he wanted, and to spend his evenings with whoever he pleased.

“Is anyone here? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you,” the feminine stranger insisted.

“Yes, uh—” I tried to clear my clutched throat. “Sorry. Is Ulrik there?” Shit, I hoped she wouldn’t notice the way my voice trembled.

“He’s gone to the restroom. Do you want to wait, or should he call you back?”

Even though I tried not to, all I could do was imagine what she looked like. Despite my attempt to resist, my mind conjured images of what I imagined her to be, doing whatever it was she and Ulrik done, or what they were about to do.

That only worsened the ache in my chest. Once more, I realized just how messed up this was. The influence this man had on my mental state and emotions was honestly worrying.

“Miss? Should he call you back?” she insisted.

“No. No, there’s no need. I’ll figure it out myself.” She began explaining it wasn’t a problem, but I interrupted her. “It’s really fine. I shouldn’t have called in the first place. Thank you.”

I cut the call before she could say another thing.

A frustrated “Fuck!” passed my lips as I threw the phone on my desk before covering my face with my hands. Something was wrong with me. This wasn’t normal—the way I got so riled up about that man. I’d known him for what? Two and a half weeks? And I was already such a mess?

What the hell was wrong with me?!

Maybe I had been starving for a relationship, for something serious, without even realizing it. This could explain why I had caved so fast at the first decent man that had shown some interest in me. And decent was a generous word.

Feeling terribly weary all of a sudden, I picked up my phone and stood from my chair. My legs were numb from hours of sitting, so I stretched them with a wince. At least, I could proudly tell that I’d done my absolute most to explore as much of the collection as I could.

“Come on, Reggie. We’re off to bed,” I told the cat—who was sitting in a corner of my desk.

We were halfway climbing the second stair when my phone buzzed in my hand. My heart clutched painfully before I even checked the screen. It was Ulrik calling me back. While I’d been fine with talking to him moments ago, that courage was completely gone now. If he could ignore me and focus back on that woman, whoever she was to him, that’d be great.

I ignored the call but didn’t decline it, so he wouldn’t get that I was actively ignoring him, but could imagine that I wasn’t with my phone. He called again shortly after his first attempt, and I stopped the buzzing. As I made my way through the house to head to my room, I switched off the light, leaving nothing but darkness behind me. For some reason, that got gloomy real quick, and I ended up picking up the pace.

Just as I reached the safe and familiar space of my room, my phone buzzed again. Ugh, couldn’t the man take a hint? Would he just call and call until I picked up?

Angry at him, I took his call and pressed the phone to my ear with a frustrated gesture. “What?”

“Is everything alright?” he asked, unaffected by my harsh tone. His low voice sent small shivers up my nape, and I had to admit that I’d missed it. Since I didn’t reply, he spoke again. “Why are you up so late? Did something happen? Monica told me you sounded upset.”

Monica … I’d never wondered before if the name was sexy or not, but at the moment, it might as well have been a siren’s name. I opened my mouth to tell him everything was fine, but my throat refused to produce a sound.

“Say something, kjære ,” he insisted. The endearment felt wrong, especially since he was spending his evening with another woman. It promptly shook some sense into me.

“Don’t call me that.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, and then he cleared his throat. “Why did you call, Mila?”

“I wanted to know when you’d be back, so I can make sure to leave before that.”

His heavy sigh came though, and I tried to imagine his weary expression. “I’m not sure. We have another few hours of work tonight, and if we can’t find an arrangement soon, we’re on for a do-over tomorrow. Given how things are going, I’ll probably be back sometime on Saturday.”

“You’re…working?” I wondered with a frown, confused.

“Yes, the negotiations aren’t going as well as I expected.”

“Oh… And Monica is…?” I grimaced with consternation at the question I’d just asked.

“An associate.” He paused for a moment, and I could almost hear the gears running in his mind. When he spoke again, his tone was hesitant. “What did you think was happening here?”

“Nothing.”

“I haven’t had time to do anything other than work, Mila.”

The ease with which he’d guessed my worries baffled me. Still, too prideful to admit he had hit the nail right on the head, I endeavored to deny it. “Whatever you do is none of my business. And frankly, I couldn’t care less about your sex life.”

“Well, there’s not much going on in that department. It’s been blue balls since I met you.”

I couldn’t tell if he was growing frustrated with me or amused by my stubbornness. I, on the other hand, was becoming particularly irritable. “Maybe you should ask Monica to help with that,” I said with a half-sarcastic, half-venomous voice.

“She and I haven’t fooled around in a while, so I might do just that.”

Air was knocked out of my lungs. Not only were his words like sharp knives planted into my chest, the way he’d so nonchalantly uttered them was beyond painful.

“You’re such an asshole,” I muttered before I could stop myself. My anger wasn’t even caused by the fact that he might sleep with her, but because he’d purposefully said that to taunt and hurt me.

“I thought you couldn’t care less about my sex life?”

Since there was nothing I could answer to that, I kept my mouth shut, boiling within.

“I’m not going to have sex with anyone during this trip, Mila,” he insisted in a gentler voice.

“Why do you care so much about reassuring me? You didn’t seem to give a shit about me the last time we spoke.”

He sighed again, and I considered cutting the call. I didn’t need to know his answer to that, but a part of me, deep inside my chest, longed to hear it. Maybe it would shed some light on his mood swings and constant changes of heart.

“I’m fine with you disliking me—it’s better that way, even,” he eventually explained. “But I don’t want you to downright loathe me.”

“Why does it even matter if I loathe you?”

Another brief moment of silence on his side. “The idea is somehow unbearable.”

The deep pitch of his tone, and the truthfulness of it, made something flutter inside me. It shouldn’t matter that he cared about this, but it did. Part of me reveled in knowing my opinion affected him, that I held some sort of importance. Just not the way I wished.

Conflicted by the turn my thoughts were taking, I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. “You need to stop doing this, Ulrik.”

“Doing what?”

“Blowing hot and cold all the time. I’m done playing your games, I’m done giving you chances, I’m done being hung up over you… This is messed up, and I don’t need this in my life.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re doing it, regardless. This thing—whatever it was—is over. I’ll be gone by the time you come back on Saturday, and that’ll be the end of it.”

I heard someone call him in the background, a man, and after a muffled conversation with whoever that was, Ulrik spoke to me again. He sounded grave and serious. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Mila.”

“Don’t be. I’d rather know you’re a jerk early on, before things become… more.”

He didn’t reply to that, but honestly, what could he say? Determined to cut this short, I continued with, “Enjoy your evening, Ulrik.”

“Good night, Mila.”

Before he could say anything more with that damned voice of his, I hung up, my chest compressed with emotions. With a long sigh, I threw the phone on my bed from where I stood by the door. Even with Reggie present, I felt awfully alone. Well, tomorrow I’d be going home, back to my apartment, my life, and my Gigi. Not even tomorrow, but today, even, given how late it was.

A few hours and all this would be in the past.

Just a few more hours…

【49】Mistress of the House

While the blackout panels would have probably allowed me to sleep until early in the afternoon, Reggie’s empty stomach didn’t. It was his insistent meows right in my face and his weight on my chest that pulled me out of my sleep.

“Yes, I’m awake,” I mumbled, seeking my phone in the dark. When my hand located it, I turned the screen on to gaze at the time. “Shit…”

It had been bold of me to assume that my body would wake up at a reasonable time, given that I’d gone to sleep at three in the morning. But it made sense that I emerged at past eleven, which never happened. I’d canceled my alarm so I would get more than four hours of sleep, but it hadn’t occurred to me to set one for later. To be fair, by the time I’d been done booking my plane ticket for the next evening and preparing my things, all I’d wanted was to close my eyes and sleep.

Damn it, today was my last day at the estate, and half of it was already gone. Thankfully, my flight wasn’t until late in the evening, which would allow me some more time in the reserve.

I groggily made my way out of the bed, grabbing the room’s remote as I did. The shutters slowly opened on my demand, and I walked to the tall window to admire the view. It was one of my last opportunities to do it.

To my surprise, tiny specks of white were descending from the sky, an unexpected but welcomed sign of the winter approaching. I watched for a moment as the snowflakes slowly made their way down. Nothing was sticking yet; the ground was too wet and warm for that. But if it snowed all day like this, I might get to see the fjord covered in white, which I was certain was an amazing sight.

Something about this cozy weather and the fact that I was all alone in the house made me grab a hoodie instead of getting changed for the day. It was already late, and I wouldn’t waste time picking an outfit that no one aside from Reggie would see me in. I slipped it over my pajamas—a pair of flannel shorts, a mismatched tank top, and warm socks—and made my way outside.

The cat led me to the kitchen, apparently famished, and I poured some kibbles in his bowl before going to get my own much-needed sustenance. The rich smell of coffee floated to my nostrils as the luxurious machine filled my cup, and that was already enough to wake me up a little more.

With the steaming cup in hand, I made my way to the stairs. The polished concrete was warm under my socks, which I was used to in my room but not out here. Heated floors were such a must… Money really could buy happiness, couldn’t it?

Wealth had never been a motivator for me, as I’d always been perfectly happy in my small apartments and modest paychecks, but I could see the appeal. I had picked the wrong line of work to ever become wealthy, though, but at least I’d be comfortable and do my favorite thing ever. What was the point of being as filthy rich as Ulrik if it was to become as stuck up and unfazed as he was? My little life of passions and friends was a lot better than his, in my humble opinion.

As I passed the glassed room on the upper floor of the reserve, I slowed my steps and allowed my eyes to wander on the leather spines of the old books, doing my best to ignore the pinch of regret in my chest. Since my time here was so minimal, I’d prioritized the collection below over everything in there. It would make for a better exhibit, as people preferred artifacts over barely readable pages. But as a historian, I would have given my left kidney to spend a month in that section, meticulously reading and studying everything in there. Entering this room now would be like falling down the rabbit hole, though, and I didn’t have time for it.

I checked on my phone and calculated how many hours I had left. Since I didn’t want to bother Jakob all the way to Trondheim, I’d asked him to drop me off at the small town nearby, where a bus line would take me to the big city. Because of Reggie, I needed to head there first to drop him off at a shelter. Following some tearful goodbyes, I’d take the shuttle to the airport and arrive with some time to spare. It meant I had about five hours left in this house before leaving forever. If the caffeine kicked in soon, I might be able to do a lot in such a short amount of time.

To my displeasure, the coffee didn’t do much. However, my brain was very aware of the little time we had left to do this, so it came through. I had already taken care of photographing everything that remained—using the brand new camera—which meant I could always finish up once I was back in London. My plan for these last few moments down there was to pick up the most interesting pieces I had left and thoroughly inspect them, take extra photographs, and write down notes about their sizes, materials, and other notable traits.

Hunger was the only force potent enough to make me take a break. After two hours of intense work, I had finally earned my breakfast. Still in my socks and jammies, I made my way back upstairs, stretching my back as I did. I still wasn’t used to being alone in this massive house, but I was getting more comfortable with it. Even though I’d decided against snooping around again, there was something nice about having the whole place to myself. It felt as though I had rented an Airbnb that was completely out of my budget, making me the temporary mistress of the house—or mansion would be more like it.

When I reached the upper floor, my eyes landed on the sound system set near the lounge area. I had heard music up here only once, when Yuko had been doing the floors while listening to an old Abba album. Empowered by some sense of freedom, I went for the CD shelves, thinking it would be easier to work out than using my own phone. With my head bent to the side, my eyes scanned the titles intently, looking for something that I might enjoy listening to. It was all rather old, the latest album being from the 90s. Maybe they used their phones to make the sound system work, after all.

Nothing was really inspiring, so when a red spine attracted my gaze, I took out the CD to see its cover. It was a compilation of the best songs from the 70s, and it was familiar to some extent. It was possible that we’d owned that one when I was a child. Deciding that I wouldn’t find anything more suited, I shrugged my shoulders and slipped the CD into the reader. A few pushes of buttons later, and drum sounds filled the surrounding air with flawless quality. The first track was Superstition, by Stevie Wonder, and before the guitar could start, I cranked the volume up.

My head was bobbing to the beat on its own, and after I’d grabbed the system’s remote, I swayed my way to the kitchen, sometimes using my thick socks to slide on the polished floor. Wondering what I could eat, I opened the well-supplied fridge and explored what was in it. I hesitated on a couple of options before remembering that Yuko had been freezing leftovers exactly for this occasion. So, I opened the freezer instead and scanned the boxes there. She’d marked them with her label maker, and it made me smile. I settled on the amazing salmon and spinach lasagna she’d cooked a few days prior, and walked to the microwave. The machine was way more complicated than it should have been, but I—seemingly—figured out how the defrost function worked.

While the microwave took my lasagna for a spin, I left the kitchen and went to the adjacent corridor, setting the volume a lot higher so I could hear the music all the way to my room. I had twelve minutes to kill, and I might as well make the best of them. On my way there, Blondie took over Stevie, and Heart of Glass resonated in the entire house.

Nearly all of my things were gathered already, aside from a few essentials I’d need before my timely departure. As I scanned the room, my eyes landed on the bag of spicy and crispy puffs Ulrik had brought back for me. Scrunching my nose, I wondered what I should do with it. Should I leave it here, untouched, to send a message? Wouldn’t it be overly petty of me to do that? Bringing them back home was not an option, as Gigi knew those were impossible to find on this side of the pond. If she saw them, she’d have a hundred questions I wouldn’t want to answer.

Well, my best option was probably to eat it all now. It was my favorite comfort snack anyway, and I was in need of comfort. With a shrug of my shoulders, I walked to the bag and opened it before shoving my nose into the opening and inhaling. Ah… It smelled like home…and a heart attack. I popped two in my mouth, welcoming their crispness and the heat that rapidly spread on my tongue.

Swaying my hips in rhythm with Blondie’s catchy tunes, I picked what I’d wear for my trip back home, making sure I wouldn’t put any spicy dust on them. Since Jakob’s opinion didn’t matter to me, I favored comfort over style, and took out a pair of leggings, as well as a long-sleeved sweater. Looking down, I inspected my hoodie, and then inelegantly sniffed the armpits. Yes, that’d do—it still smelled fresh and clean.

Bits and pieces of the lyrics floated past my lips as I alternated between eating and folding. When I Will Survive, by Gloria Gaynor, came next, I couldn’t hold back the caustic grin that bent my mouth. This one was particularly fitting, wasn’t it?

I sang my heart out as it went on, exorcizing Ulrik fucking Westergaard out of my system. I’d be home before the day ended, and then… No more him, no more complications, and no more getting my feelings torn in every direction. My life would go back to normal, to its perfect little harmony.

The time on my phone informed me that I had another four minutes until my lasagna was ready, so I looked at my stuff with my hands over my hips, wondering what else could be done. Maybe I could shower and get dressed now, which would save me some time later on. Four minutes to do that was more than enough, since there was no need for a shampoo.

Overtaken by a sense of efficiency, raised a foot and slipped out my sock, then the other. I then grabbed the bottom of my hoodie and lifted it, along with the tank top underneath. I threw that onto the bed with the socks, and then slipped my thumbs under the elastic of my shorts and underwear.

Just as I was about to push them down, the sound of a man scratching his throat right behind me broke through the music, chilling me to the bones. At once, I slapped a hand over my breasts and turned around, so startled that I could feel the hectic beats of my heart under my palm. My heart dropped as another kind of surprise filled me, leaving me stunned and speechless.

Ulrik was right there, leaning on the frame of the guest room’s door—which I’d left opened. Wearing a pricey business suit, he had his arms crossed over his road chest, looking to the side at the door’s frame as though it was the most interesting thing in the world.

What the hell was he doing here?!

【50】Deal?

Words failed me as I stared at Ulrik’s profile, struggling to comprehend what was happening. Was he really here? Could it even be possible? Confused, I did some quick math in my head. I’d been on the phone less than twelve hours ago, and between the drives to the airports and back, as well as the long flight, it made no sense that he’d be here so soon. Unless he’d left his meeting within an hour of our call, if not earlier than that.

But the finer details of his dashing face were too precise for my brain to have conjured him. He was right there, as if I wasn’t half naked. As if I’d not been an instant away from being even nakeder right in front of him. Anger rose inside of me at his audacity.

“Do you mind!?” I protested with a vehement tone and a frown.

His gaze left the door’s frame to set on me instead. The way his eyes were raking over my nearly naked shapes triggered a plethora of conflicting feelings in me.

“Not at all,” he answered with his deep voice, sending more shivers under my skin.

How dare he look at me like this, as if he hadn’t been an absolute ass to me for the past few days? It didn’t matter if he’d already seen my breasts and even pressed his lips on them. This wasn’t something he was allowed to see anymore.

With an angry gesture, I spun my finger in the air to order him to do just that.

After a brief instant, he pushed himself off of the frame and slowly turned his back on me, granting me a modicum of privacy. Frantic, I turned to the bed in search of something to cover myself with. My hoodie was all tangled up with my tank top, so I picked up the sweater I meant to wear for the ride home instead.

“You should have made your presence known sooner,” I angrily pointed out as I slipped it on.

“I’ve been clearing my throat since before the socks came off.” His answer embarrassed and annoyed me altogether. Regardless of that, he should have just walked away when he’d seen me undress, and pretend like he’d never seen a thing.

I turned to face his impressive back, throwing daggers at it with my glare. “What are you doing here?”

“In my house, you mean?”

His wits weren’t charming at the moment, so it did nothing to appease my temper. “Weren’t you supposed to come back tomorrow?”

“There was a change of plans.”

“You seem to have a lot of those.”

“It’s been a whole thing lately, yes. Can I turn, now?”

“No.”

Although I was decent again, I’d rather argue without him facing me, as the back of his head didn’t have those two devilish eyes that always managed to kill my resolve so effortlessly.

But since I wasn’t fumbling around anymore, he probably guessed that I’d covered myself, so he spun my way, regardless. Even with the relatively loose top I had on, I felt too undressed to face him. My lack of bra was rendered obvious by the flimsy fabric, and my legs were almost bare. I crossed my arms in front of me, hoping it could protect me from his hawk-like stare.

Outside, the music had turned into Hotel California, which wasn’t as loud and allowed me to gather my thoughts.

“How are you back so early? You said it’d take hours, if not another day,” I asked, refusing to let this go. He shrugged, unsure of what to say.

“The negotiations went through faster than I expected.”

On the phone, he’d led me to understand they were far from finishing, and something told me he’d been genuine. His presence here made no sense, and I could perceive something fishy in his attitude. We’d been so close to never seeing each other ever again, and yet there he was, right at my doorstep.

“Well, you should have warned me beforehand. You knew I wanted to be gone before your return,” I reminded him in a matter-of-fact tone. “Or did that ‘slip your mind’ as well?”

His apparent confidence wavered slightly, and the thick arches of his eyebrows furrowed. Dismissing whatever he might say next, I grabbed my phone off the bed to check on it. This changed my plans, and I had to decide whether I wanted to stay a little longer as intended, or leave as soon as I could.

“When’s your plane?” he asked, as if he could read my thoughts.

“At nine. But don’t worry, I’ll leave within half an hour.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed with another shrug. “You’ll end up waiting there for hours.”

“I’d rather do that.”

We exchanged a long and charged look, where many words passed in perfect silence. My stubbornness seemed to have awakened something in him, and his own feistiness was on the verge of taking over.

“It was supposed to be simple, you know,” he declared, his voice low and filled with frustration.

“What was?”

“This,” he explained, gesturing between the two of us. “It wasn’t supposed to get messy like that. But you…” he trailed off, shaking his head with a mirthless smile, “…you made everything so damn complicated, Mila.”

My jaw dropped with indignation as I stared at him in disbelief. Was he being for real right now!?

“ I made everything complicated!?“ I repeated, outraged. “You’re kidding, right? I’m not the one who began acting like a complete asshole, and then came back before pulling away all over again.”

“I don’t do this whole relationship thing.”

“Oh, a man with a fear of commitment? How fucking original,” I spat out.

He didn’t answer, but I saw the way his jaw ticked, proving he was triggered. Oh, the nerve of this man…

“All I wanted was a quick fuck, Ulrik.”

“That was never an option with you,” he countered.

The double sense of his words took a second to make its way into my brain, but when it did, my face warmed up. Something told me that, had we ended up in bed together, there would have been nothing quick about it.

“I’m perfectly capable of having no-strings-attached sex,” I replied. “Don’t act like you know me better than I know myself.”

“I’m not. But I know myself .” Averting his gaze, he passed a frustrated hand in his hair, messing it up.

His admission, which I could now tell wasn’t meant to have happened, was conflicting to hear, and I let it sink for a moment. As I did, some of my anger faded away. What exactly was he trying to say? That could only be more than a one-night stand to him? That he wanted me beyond a few hours of mind-blowing sex?

“You went from being a potential night of fun to becoming an obsession in a matter of days, Mila,” he continued, making something flutter in my chest despite my attempts at appearing unaffected. “I’ve been trying to stay away and keep myself in check ever since.”

As much as I wanted to have the high ground and pretend I’d been more successful than him at this, it wasn’t lost on me that I felt exactly the same way. Yes, I’d wanted nothing more than sex at first, but the past days and how miserable I’d been proved that it had grown into so much more already. Sex wasn’t the only thing I needed from him, or I wouldn’t have been such a hot mess.

Ever since I’d met him, he’d occupied most of my thoughts. The fact that I’d been haunting his was troubling, but knowing I wasn’t the only one in agony helped a little.

“You’ve been very bad at staying away,” I told him, still conflicted about this turn of events.

“You’ve been very hard to stay away from.” He passed another hand in his hair, and before I could ask myself if he was talking about me invading his personal space, he continued, spurred by some unexplainable sincerity. “Hell, I dropped everything in New York just so I could see you one last time.”

His admission, more than anything he’d ever told me, robbed me of all coherent thoughts. There it was, the confirmation that he wasn’t here on accident. He was here because he found himself craving my presence too intently. Much like I’d craved his—despite everything I’d told myself.

“You can’t blame me for this. I just wanted sex,” I argued with a quieter voice, attempting to shield myself. Then, for some absurd reason, I felt compelled to lie, as if it would make any of this easier. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted from you, so I’m not responsible for the way things unfolded.”

A somber emotion veiled his blue eyes, and I braced myself for his response, certain he’d call me out on my bullshit. He took his time gauging me, like a predator surveilling its prey. I wasn’t equipped to fight him, too lost in my own desires and needs to stand my ground.

“Right, all you want is empty, mindless sex,” he eventually said. His eyes challenged me to further the lie, dared me to pretend like I wasn’t as affected as he was. I was too pig-headed to admit to anything, though.

“Exactly.”

“Then you’d call it a day, and never think about me again.”

I opened my mouth to answer in the affirmative again, but the words got stuck in my throat, as if the deception went too far this time. While maybe I could do sex and walk away, there was no way he wouldn’t plague my mind for a while longer.

“Not a single thought, no,” I forced myself to say, the words pathetically feeble.

My meek response made his pupils darken once more, and I stood there, helpless. “Let’s do it, then,” he suggested, taking me by surprise.

“Do what?” It was as though my brain cells had short-circuited, too overwhelmed to process thoughts.

“Have a quick fuck before you leave and we never have to see each other ever again.”

My knees nearly buckled at his indecent proposal, my heart relocating between my legs where palpitations were triggered, only to echo in my entire body. Even though I knew he was only taunting me, pushing me to admit my lies and confess my turmoil, I couldn’t help but consider his offer.

“So? This is what you want, right? It should be easy for you to decide.”

“It would be if you hadn’t been such a dickhead,” I muttered with a scowl.

“That shouldn’t matter if it’s just sex. We don’t need to like one another to fuck each other’s brains out.”

Well… he had a point. What if we gave in just this one time?

My departure was scheduled already, and there was no way I’d be staying any longer than that—not after nearly two weeks away from work. I had a few hours before I needed to leave for my bus, which was more than enough to release all that needed to come out between us. Now was the only time we had to actually make it just sex, and nothing else.

Despite being lost in my thoughts, I noticed his annoyance at my refusal to admit defeat. Surely, he hadn’t expected me to give it a genuine thought, but rather to call off my lies.

He shook his head, apparently done with my stubbornness. “Well,” he began, bending to grab a small silvery suitcase right outside the door, “I’ll be unpacking my things while you ponder. Let me know when you’ve reached a decision.”

His tone was full of sarcasm, as if he didn’t believe I might actually take him up on his fake offer. But really, what did I have to lose, aside from a tiny chunk of my dignity?

With one last glance at me, he disappeared from my sight, walking down the corridor. I remained where I stood, unmoving, listening to his steps getting further and further. Eventually, he reached his door, and I heard him open and close it.

Was it completely insane of me to want to join him there? After everything we’d gone through, was it acceptable for me to be willing to have sex with him? The man didn’t deserve me, but as he’d said, this didn’t have to be anything more than sex. And I was liberal enough on that topic to share my body in a meaningless manner. My hook-up the last time I’d gone out with Gigi proved that.

For nearly three weeks now, I’d wondered what it would be like to have sex with Ulrik. And now might be my very last chance to discover that.

“Fuck it,” I mumbled to myself. You only live once, right?

Running on some strange mix of frustration, adrenaline, and need, I walked out of my room barefooted, and followed the direction he’d just taken.

I’d never gone down this hallway, never passed it further than my door. Even when I’d snooped around, I had never even considered exploring his room. It was too…desperate and creepy.

Swallowing hard, I dismissed the uneasiness caused by the unfamiliar surroundings, and reached the wide door at the very end of the hallway. Without allowing myself a second to think about it, I lifted my hand to knock on his door.

A split second before I did, though, the panel opened on its own. Behind it, Ulrik seemed as surprised to see me as I was to find him right there. He was just as magnificent as he’d been moments ago, but he’d loosened his tie a little, in a gesture that must have been charged with frustration and doubts.

Something in the fierce look I gave him made his eyes narrow. He knew exactly why I was here. When he opened his mouth, I decided not to let him.

“No, don’t talk,” I stopped him. Although I’d made up my mind, it could easily be swayed, and I didn’t want that to happen.

Slightly taken aback, he stared down at me with his amazingly blue irises.

“We’re going to fuck,” I told him with assurance. “After that, I’m going back to London, and then that’s it.”

His jaw clenched, his expression betraying all the erotic thoughts running through his head. Something fluttered low in my pit, butterflies swarming hectically in my guts.

“Deal?” I asked, almost breathless. Another couple of seconds went by as he considered it. Air remained stuck in my throat until he gave me a small but undeniable nod.

“Deal.”

Within half a second of his agreement, all hell broke loose. Rapid like lightning, we plunged to one another, his hand slipping around my waist to pull me in while I reached for his nape with mine. Our lips crashed together with avid intensity, and electricity coursed through my entire body, crawling under my skin.

There was nothing left to hold us back, so I was done fighting this.

Fuck consequences.

【51】Overdressed

We stumbled into the room together, too absorbed by our heated kiss to care about anything that wasn’t us.

My hand was clasped against his neck, holding him down as my lips relentlessly sought his. In an instant, everything that had happened since the last time we’d kissed vanished, gone into thin air. It didn’t matter if he’d rejected me and done his best to set as much distance between us as he could.

All that mattered was his hands pulling me against him, his warm, musky scent, and his mouth devouring mine as if his life depended on it. All the rest became insignificant. And while some part of me—very deep down—wondered if I shouldn’t refuse this, I dismissed it. We were grown adults, and even though things had been tumultuous from the start, we could have sex and then move on, like so many others did all the time.

When his free hand reached for my behind, barely covered by my flimsy pajama shorts, sparks ignited inside me, in my chest, as much as between my legs. I was so lost in it that I didn’t even think of looking around to discover what his room looked like. How could I be interested in that when his tongue was grazing mine so hungrily?

I unclenched the fabric of his shirt and slipped two fingers into the loose circle of his tie, pulling on it to remove it. That triggered his own need to see me undressed, and he gathered the hem of my sweater in his hands before pulling it up my torso. I shivered when his knuckles brushed against my naked skin underneath, before letting go of his tie to raise my arms instead. We broke our kiss, just long enough for him to pass my top above my head.

For some reason, I was expecting him to reclaim my lips as soon as he was free to do so, but instead, he took a step back and looked at my exposed chest, his heated eyes gliding from one perky tip to the other. The cool air of his room and the arousal raging through me had caused my nipples to harden, so much so that I could sense them, all tight and pebbled. Something about the glimmer of appreciation in the look he gave them had my pride swell, and I stared back at him with a crooked smirk.

“Like what you see?”

He ripped his eyes from my chest to glance up at me playfully. “I very much do. But you’re overdressed, kjære .”

The endearment had my heart melting for an instant, and I considered asking him to hold back on those. But when had he ever listened to me where pet names were concerned?

Instead, I slipped my thumbs into my shorts and pushed them down, along with my underwear. When I straightened up, entirely naked while he was still fully clothed, I realized my mistake. I was at a disadvantage now, and given the lustful gaze he covered me with, it had been a poor choice of strategy. At this rate, he’d jump me and fuck me before his suit was gone, which was a shame. I wanted to see all of him, to enjoy the sight of his tattoos, as well as the powerful muscles dancing underneath with his every movement.

Surprising me once more with how well he could read me, he sent his hands up to get rid of his askew tie, removing it with impatient gestures. His bluest of eyes kept traveling up and down my body, and I did my best not to hide myself.

I was rather confident about my shapes, and had been for most of my life. My father’s slender genetics had mixed well with my mother’s curvy silhouette, and I was graced with the best of both worlds: long limbs, slim waist, and an hourglass figure that I knew drove men mad. Adding to the superior gene pool, I ran and exercised regularly, practiced yoga for flexibility and muscle strengthening, and ate relatively well.

So, the shyness that gained me as Ulrik took me in was unfamiliar, probably only triggered by the intensity of his gaze. It was as though he could see beyond my skin, further than my nakedness. I’d never felt this exposed before, and I wasn’t sure how to handle all the confusing emotions that threatened to wreck me.

Overwhelmed by his presence, I averted my eyes and glanced at our surroundings for a brief moment. Our stumbling had seemed random, but I now realized he’d brought us near his bed, a massive, modern, and wooden piece that sat in the middle of the vast room.

“Look at me,” he demanded before I could discover more of his private space. “Don’t shy away from me, Mila.”

My walls pulsed onto themselves at his commanding tone, and I poorly hid the shiver that made my legs shake slightly. As he’d asked, I looked at him, starting at his dashing face and lowering. I observed the broadness of his shoulders, his powerful hands that were done with his tie and moved on to the buttons of his shirt, the tattoos that slowly revealed themselves by the third one…

He was a magnificent specimen himself, and it was intimidating to some extent. The impressive bump straining against his zipper told me he had the same thoughts where I was concerned, though.

His eyes were glued to the triangle of dark curls between my legs as he undid more buttons, and I decided he’d seen enough. It was my turn to enjoy his magnificent body. In two steps, I was back against him, stretching up to demand his lips once again. This time, he indulged me, slipping his tongue between my parted teeth when I taunted him with mine.

While he continued with his shirt’s buttons, I sent my hand to his waist, distracted by our scorching kiss. Urgency was in our every gesture, in the intent pulls of our hands, in the maddening intensity of our kiss, in the mumbles that floated between us… There was no time wasted debating or thinking, not when we’d wanted this for so long.

As soon as his belt gave way, I fumbled with the button holding his pants closed. My gestures were shaky, my hands clumsy as I fought against his slacks to access the part of him I craved the most. I eventually won my battle against the damned thing, and to my great satisfaction, the zipper below posed no resistance.

Not even a second was wasted to lower his pants. Instead, I hastily pulled on the fabric of his shirt, the fine material warm in my hands, and freed the way to his underwear. My fingers followed the trail of trimmed hairs that spanned between the defined muscles of his abs, and then I slipped them under the elastic band of his boxer briefs.

His mouth on mine had grown more dominant, his tongue commanding, and he exhaled a groan when I reached the base of his swollen length, circling it with my fingers. My eyes popped open in surprise when I noticed I could barely wrap a hand around him. And it was his turn to moan when I avidly ran my palm all the way to his plump head.

“You’re so fucking big,” I breathed out in our kiss. He pulled away, just enough to gaze down at me with his heavenly eyes, his face flushed and his lips so temptingly wet.

“You think you can take all of me, kjære ?”

“I don’t know…”

While my hand kept toying with the tip of his hardened shaft, I used the other one to grab his wrist and dislodge his hand from my bare hip. With a slow but confident gesture, I brought it between us instead, and settled it at my core, where my own arousal was as unmistakable as his.

“Do you think I can?” I asked, feeling like a temptress.

His eyes remained on mine as he exploratively grazed my folds, his fingertips delicate but knowing. When he adroitly teased the bundle of nerves just above my needy entrance, I let out a trembling sigh.

Then, his index and middle fingers reached lower, right where all my wetness had gathered, and I witnessed the satisfaction on his face. My foxy smile died with a moan as he slipped them inside me, giving me some of what I craved, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

I rose to the tip of my feet, having in mind to reclaim his lips, but he resisted me, moving away from my reach. He pulled his fingers out, and then thrust them in again, a little further this time.

“ Fy faen ,“ he mumbled. Fucking hell… “You’re dripping.” Another retreat, followed by another thrust. “So fucking wet for me…”

“You think I can take all of you?” I asked again, attempting once more to lock lips.

He bent forward, ever so slightly, but instead of granting me the kiss I craved, he realigned his hand between my thighs, only to shove his fingers deeper inside me, making them disappear entirely.

My walls clenched around his digits as I moaned his name, my voice a raspy, trembling mess. My hand clenched around his girth, causing him to groan in return.

“It’ll be a tight fit,” he replied with something wicked in his eyes. “But I think we can make it work. Don’t you, Mila?”

Before I could reply, he gave me another maddeningly good shove, curling his fingers so they’d hit me right on the perfect spot.

“We better make it work,” I let out, knowing I’d go insane if he didn’t fuck me with all of his imposing length. I wanted this man to wreck me, to properly ruin me, and since all we had was this one time, he better rearrange my fucking insides.

Once again, he resisted me when I tried to kiss him, and I gave him a disapproving scowl. Was it his way of keeping some control? Was he trying to show me who was in charge? Whatever game he was playing, I didn’t have the patience for it. With his eyes still locked on mine, he slowly pulled his fingers out of me, which I protested with a whimper.

He brought his hand up between us, and shivers ran under my skin when I guessed his intentions. My lips parted with a pant as he opened his own mouth and prepared himself to sample my taste on his glistening fingers. Just before he could, though, I stopped him, clasping my hand around his wrist. He raised a cocky eyebrow, looking down at me with a questioning look.

He wanted a taste, and I wanted a kiss. There was a compromise to be made here. One that would satisfy a fantasy I’d had of him ever since we’d met.

Determined to regain some authority, I pushed on his chest to make him back up. He followed my silent command, clearly intrigued by my enterprise, and once he was close enough to the bed, I gave him a hard shove. Amusement spilled out of his lush lips as he fell back onto the mattress, his low chuckle stealing away another chunk of my control. Before he could do anything, I moved to straddle him, pressing my hands on his wide chest.

My mouth was on his before he could speak, and I used my position to be in charge of our embrace, to give the pace and control our kiss. He was still dressed for the most part, but enough of his shirt’s buttons were undone for me to run my hands over the warm and firm skin of his torso.

“I should have…known you’d be so…bossy in bed,” he groaned between kisses, filling his hands with my ass and kneading the soft mounds. I whimpered, releasing his lips, and straightened up to gaze down at him.

“You’re too stubborn to let me lead,” he continued, looking very smug.

“I know what I like, and I don’t feel like wasting time as you try to figure it out.”

He chuckled again, the muscles of his abdomen flexing under his half-opened shirt. “Now, you insult me, kjære . I bet I can find out exactly what you like within seconds.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Just as I moved on to my next enterprise, I sensed the pressure of his hands on my behind, urging me to do exactly what I had in mind. Ah, maybe he would be very good at figuring out what I liked, yes…

He assisted me as I made my way up on his broad shape, and we exchanged one last naughty glance right before I settled over him, my knees spread on each side of his head. I hovered there for a moment, holding back the urge to sit on his face. I was never sure just how much pressure a man could take before it became too much.

His hands slithered their way to my hips before I could decide, and his head rose from the gray duvet. Using those big muscles of his, he lowered me onto his face with undeniable eagerness.

At the first lap of his tongue, which licked me from my opening to my clit, I let out a whimpering moan. The electric shivers that coursed through my stomach and limbs were out of this world. And he’d barely just started. My body reacted on its own, arching and writhing, which meant I ended up lower than before, trapping him between the mattress and my pussy.

“So fucking good,” he groaned with appreciation.

Oh, well… I’d seen the man bench press bars twice my weight in his gym. Surely, he wouldn’t hesitate to lift me up if needed. That was my last coherent thought before he licked me again, with even more hunger.

By the third time he did it, I already knew no one would ever tongue-fuck me as good as he was about to.

【52】That’s Two

Even with the shivers that ran under my skin, like electric jolts that warmed me from within, I was having a hard time believing any of this was real.

I was sitting on Ulrik’s face. Finally .

And as I had suspected, he knew exactly what he was doing.

A sigh of pleasure blew past my lips as my hips undulated over him. The touch of his tongue on me was subtle, as if he’d decided to drive me mad with his ministrations. It circled my aching clit with precision, avoiding it on purpose, but it didn’t prevent more of those sparks from igniting in my core. He did it a few more times, alternating between those damned circles and long licks along my slit. The latter were firm enough to drive me insane with anticipation, but light enough so he never entered me with his tongue.

I didn’t have any patience for edging. Not when it felt as though I’d been edged since the first day we’d met.

“Ulrik,” I warned. My threatening tone turned out to be a moan more than anything else, so I looked down to convey my frustration in a different manner. His eyes were awaiting mine, filled with mischief, and although his mouth was rather busy, I could tell he was smiling. “If you keep teasing me, I’ll take what I want and ride you till death by suffocation.”

His unimpressed chuckle fanned across my folds, his gaze twinkling with humor. He mumbled something inaudible, so I lifted myself slightly. “What?”

“Best way to go,” he repeated.

It was my turn to be amused, until he lifted his head and ran his devilish tongue right across my swollen bundle of nerves, making me tremble. “Yes, right here,” I begged.

“I don’t need guidance, Mila.” To prove it, he licked it again, precisely where I craved his attentions. “Now sit back, and let me take care of you, kjære .”

His large hands were still wrapped around my hips, and he used them to lower me once more, forcing my pussy right onto his face. This time, when he pressed his tongue at my entrance, he breached past the slippery folds and entered me, plunging it inside my quivering flesh as deeply as he could.

“Ah, fuck!” I moaned, writhing my hips closer to him.

His deft tongue began pumping inside me, following a slow-paced pattern that drove me mad. It was good, there was no denying it, but it wasn’t enough. Just as I was about to complain once more, something changed in his technique, making me quiver with satisfaction. While his tongue kept fucking me from below, he used his upper lip to graze and flick my clit.

Shit, that was new… And it was regal. The man truly didn’t need guidance. Not one bit. Hell, he should actually give classes, because his technique was flawless.

Pleasure built up in my core as he kept going, sending shivers in my limbs that had me jolting uncontrollably. The fact that he could carry a double assault on my pussy with only his mouth triggered a warning in my mind. What would it be like when his dick or his hands would come into play? He’d surely wreck me in the most savage of ways.

“Ulrik…” I whimpered, trying to move away from him a little, alarmed by how fast my orgasm was building. But the man refused me any mercy, his fingers digging in the soft skin high on my thighs to keep me right there.

I met his blue irises again, reading the pride in them, and my hand reached to grab his dirty blond hair, my fingers tangling in the thick, short, and soft strands of it. My entire body was taut, like a bow that was being pulled to its limits. The pending climax was the arrow, about to be fired with great strength.

My insides were pulsing around his unrelenting tongue, my clit spasming against his lip, and my nipples were hard and aching, compelling me to send my free hand to my left breast and twist it. It brought some alleviation, but the guttural groan he let out was far greater at satisfying me, vibrating against my folds and inside of me.

“Ulrik… I’m going to come,” I warned, sensing my entire frame tighten.

Instead of the mercy I was pleading for him to grant, he intensified his ministrations. A sob gathered in my chest, interrupted by a hiccup, and then a trembling moan left me.

Pleasure wrecked me like never before, so great that I lost all control of my body. It turned completely still as I came on his face, every single muscle in it flexed. Wave after waves of bliss rolled and crashed into me, making me jolt spasmodically. A soft cry came with each of them, lost between his name that I moaned and the helpless “Yes!” and “Oh God…”

Despite being lost in it, I could sense and hear him below me, grunting his appreciation as I spasmed around his tongue, coating it with my juices. My fingers in his hair were tightly clutching it, but I couldn’t do anything about it, too overtaken by my climax. He didn’t seem to mind, though, as his mouth never halted or even wavered.

When it all became too much, when I worried I might break from it all, I tried lifting myself away from him. But just like the other times, he prevented it, holding me firmly on his face. In an attempt to find some mercy, I fell forward, my elbows landing on his soft comforter. This new angle dislodged his tongue from my quivering channel, but he was quick to adjust, setting it on my overworked clit instead.

Shit, this was so much more than I’d bargained for…

I thought he’d finally let me go when his right hand released me, but he settled his other forearm on my back instead, locking me in place with it. My eyes rounded with surprise when I felt two fingers right at my entrance, and before I could utter a protest, he pushed them inside me, his tongue still flicking over my clit with perfect intensity.

The sensation of his thick index and middle finger penetrating me made me release a throaty cry. My first orgasm had seamlessly blended into more pleasure, and I already knew I wanted the next one. I needed it.

Keeping my hips aligned in a way that allowed him to fuck me with his hand, I pushed myself up enough to look down at him again. The fierce determination in his gaze told me I was in for a treat.

Once more, he proved that he knew exactly what he was doing, that the female anatomy—at least mine—held absolutely no secret to him. He gave me everything I needed, the perfect pressure of his tongue, the ideal curled angle of his fingers, the impeccably mismatched rhythm of each…

Before I knew it, I came again, even harder than before, tensing all over once more and crying out his name. This was so damned worth it. God, to think I’d almost missed the opportunity was maddening. No matter the outcome, fucking Ulrik would be worth every risk. As his ministrations wrecked me, I knew it in my heart. Every single woman out there should know this otherworldly feeling. We were owed that much bliss at least once in our lives.

This time, as I slowly climbed down from the heavens he’d sent me into, I noticed that his fervor was lessening. He was done with his sweet torture, and we would now move on to better and bigger things.

Unhurriedly, so I could feel every knuckle, his fingers pulled out of my satiated intimacy. With soothing licks of his tongue, he lapped the remnants of my climax, igniting a few more jolts in my core.

Fuck… This damned man and his clever mouth. I’d always suspected that his tongue was amazing at more than bantering, and getting the proof of it was quite rewarding. Especially given how I’d gotten it.

With a satisfied mumble, he gave my overworked clit an ultimate kiss, and then his hands encouraged me to roll over to the side. Too spent to think on my own, I followed his silent instruction and freed his head from the caging hold of my thighs. He gave the soft skin of my inner thigh a long peck, as if he couldn’t stop himself, and I gently grazed his cheek with a trembling hand, very grateful for the mind-blowing orgasms.

“That’s two,” he said proudly, turning to kiss my palm. Something in his tone told me there would be a lot more, and he was really just starting. “I’ll never get over how good you taste,” he then declared right before licking his lips and then wiping his lower face on the sheets. Desire and passion altered his voice, and it was now my new favorite sound.

Had I been left with enough working brain cells, I would have complimented him on his head game, but it was beyond my capacity at the moment. And frankly, my appreciation of it showed. So instead, I stared back as he admired me, looking very smug and proud of himself. He took in my rapturous state for a few seconds, clearly enjoying the sight of me post-orgasms.

“Undress,” I managed to say, gesturing toward his opened shirt and slacks with an approximative hand.

His dashing smirk made something throb in me one last time. “Bossy even now… What am I going to do with you, Miss Connelly?”

“Fuck me until I can’t even remember my name. That should work.”

“If that’s what it takes…”

He pulled himself high enough to steal a hungry kiss from me where we shared my taste, and then I watched as he got out of the bed. Standing by it, with his eyes still on me, he took care of his remaining clothes. As he revealed more of himself, I dwelled on the improbability of this situation.

God, I still couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Especially not with the heavenly way I was now feeling. None of this felt real, more like a very naughty and very realistic dream.

But as his tattoos revealed themselves to me, and when he pulled his pants and underwear down after he’d gotten rid of his shoes and socks, I knew this wasn’t a dream. I didn’t have enough imagination to come up with all this. My brain wasn’t artistic enough to create this masterpiece of a man.

His enormous dick, though, I had imagined many times over. But even that hadn’t done justice to the real thing. I already knew that he manscaped, a normal outcome of his impeccable hygiene, and while I didn’t mind men who didn’t, I appreciated that about him. The trimmed dark blond hair surrounding the base of him didn’t distract away from his length, but rather complimented it. As for the appendage itself… it was longer and thicker than I’d thought, its straight shape bulging with veins that slithered under the thin skin. It was impressive how it was angled up instead of down, given what must have been the considerable weight of his lengthy girth. It was so hard and swollen it looked about to burst. The head of it, round and reddened by desire, poked through his foreskin, the tip of it glistening with precum. His balls underneath were equally large, shaven and hanging tight in his sack.

This, all of this, what was sex toys companies should have used as a reference for their products. It was the most perfect, the most ideal three-piece set a man could ever sport.

God, I could already imagine the stretch, the way his dick would push against my walls to make room for all of it. I’d feel him there even hours after we were done, sitting on that plane back to London with the memory of him lingering between my legs.

My heart sank a little at the thought of leaving, but it was quickly dismissed as he distracted me away from it.

“Like what you see?” he asked with cockiness, echoing my words from earlier.

“I very much do,” I replied with a matching smirk.

Invigorated by the prospect of what would come next, I rose to my knees and made my way to him. He welcomed me with eager arms, wrapping one around my back to pull me close, and clasping the other hand over my nape. My arms were hooked around his neck as we kissed with passion. His wet tip poked my belly, and I didn’t resist the temptation of wrapping a hand around it.

With my thumb, I spread the precum over the smooth surface, pulling the skin back to expose his entire head. He groaned into our kiss, pushing his shaft into my fisted hand. He pulled away, just enough to plant his lust-filled eyes into mine, looking down at me with all his might.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t walk straight for a week,” he declared, like the most promising of threats. I had no doubt that he could. Not now that I knew the extent of his head game.

Still, I couldn’t resist some taunting. “You talk a big game, Norseman… Now’s the time to bite rather than bark.”

To prove that I meant business, I reached up to bite his chin gently before grabbing a hold of his lower lip with my teeth. I made him groan with slight pain as I pulled him my way, forcing him to lie over me into the bed. Nested between my legs with the underside of his shaft pressed right on my damp folds, he retook possession of my mouth, craving it like a madman.

I writhed and undulated under him, seeking some friction on my aching center. It was as though I hadn’t just endured the two best orgasms of my life, wanting so much more already.

Starved for him, I tried to prevent his retreat when he pulled away. He glanced down at me, at my sensuous state, and I arched on the mattress, offering him a better view. “I want you,” I whimpered, reduced to begging by my need for him.

He answered with another one of his crooked, proud smiles and then stretched toward the nightstand. I rose to my elbows as he shuffled through it blindly, too far to see its content. But he found what he sought, and just as he pulled out a golden foil packet, I was reminded about protection.

Oh, I’d completely forgotten. This man robbed me of my good sense, and this proved it.

“Crap,” I muttered. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot. I just sat on your face without even considering—Oh, God… I’m clean, I promise.”

Or I thought I was, at least. My last test had been after Everest, and nothing had come up. I’d never caught anything, actually, not that I was always prudent. I’d just avoided any STI so far, and I hoped it was still the case. My only worry was that I didn’t remember anything about my drunken night with that guy from the club, so that was a liability… We’d used a condom, though, I was sure of that.

“Well, it’s good to know you won’t be leaving me with a little surprise,” Ulrik said, tearing the condom packet with his teeth. “This is so I don’t leave you with a little surprise either.”

My eyebrows were knitted together as I watched him roll it down his thick length with an expert move. What did he mean by that? Did he have something? I would never have suspected him to—not with the way he exercised control over everything.

“I’m clean,” he declared, easily guessing my concerns. “I just don’t trust my pull out game with you, kjære .”

The unexpected compliment made my cheeks flush a little more, the corner of my lips bending in a modest smile.

I was on birth control—an implant in my arm, since I was bad at taking the pill on time and I’d promised myself to never go through the pain of having an IUD inserted ever again. But even though I’d been on 99% effective solutions during my entire sex life, I’d found myself terminating three unwanted pregnancies. My uterus seemed determined to bear a fetus, regardless of how much I didn’t want it.

So, as tempting as it was to dismiss the protective latex with Ulrik, it was safer that way.

He came back over me, taut muscles rippling under his tattooed skin, and when I tried to push him to lie back, he resisted.

“No, it’s my turn to be on top.”

Would I ever tire of his lopsided smiles? How could they remain so damn charming, even after seeing so many of them?

“We both know you were topping from the bottom,” I amusedly pointed out.

“That’s because I have too many things I want to do to you, and too little time to do it all.”

Once more, my chest tightened at the thought of parting ways. Two hours weren’t enough for me either, but we’d have to make do. It was all we had, and giving him more might turn out disastrous.

With this man, I wasn’t only risking my ability to walk straight. My sanity and my heart were also in the balance. Both of which I wasn’t willing to compromise.

Not even for him.

【53】Demanding Little Brat

I should have expected this. With everything I knew about the man, I should have seen it coming. But as I whimpered and writhed underneath him, desperately trying to hurry things up, I realized how naïve I’d been.

With his dick sheathed in latex, he rubbed himself on me with sinuous rolls of his hips while his mouth slowly and sinfully fucked mine. He was acting as though we had all the time in the world, but we both knew it couldn’t be further from the truth. I could sympathize with his desire to savor it and make it last, but we were out of time before we’d even started. We couldn’t afford more delays.

My face was pressed against his neck, and the perfect smell of him was intoxicating. Enough to distract me for a moment. “How do you smell so good after hours of sitting on a plane?” I asked, holding him a little closer.

“I showered before we landed.”

Perplexed, I moved away to meet his gaze. “What kind of plane has a shower?”

“A private one.” He probably read my questions before I could even voice them, because he added, “I didn’t have any time to waste waiting on a flight. It would have landed in Oslo anyway, so I rented a jet.”

This piece of information made me feel warm and uneasy altogether. “You really, really wanted to see me..”

“You have no idea.”

Dismissing what this meant, I brought my lips within an inch of his. “Well, here I am… What are you going to do about it?”

He didn’t hesitate for even one second, plunging his tongue into my awaiting mouth. Never breaking our kiss, I sent a slim hand between us and grabbed his length. I spread my legs further, lifting my knees high on his sides, offering myself to him entirely.

“Please… Fuck me, Ulrik…”

His groan landed in my mouth, and he adjusted himself so I could line him up with my needy entrance. His round head pressed gently against my folds, making me moan with desire. With our forehead pressed together, we breathed each other’s air for a hot second. The moment was charged with anticipation, almost electric.

When he finally pushed forward enough to enter me, I arched against the mattress with a sigh. I barely had time to enjoy the stretch before he gave another nudge, breaching deeper.

“Yes,” I breathed out.

As suspected, taking him in would prove overwhelming for my pussy. I’d been with well-endowed men before, but never as much as Ulrik. I was more than ready, though, thanks to our little riding session, so while I felt stretched, I didn’t feel any discomfort.

“More,” I demanded, throwing my hips forward to take another full inch.

Using his powerful arms, he lifted himself away from me to glance down at where our bodies joined. I lifted my head to do the same, and watched as he leisurely pulled out, just before he pushed back inside me, making more than half of him disappear. Shit… I already knew that, by the time he’d be completely buried in there, I’d feel fuller than I’d ever had.

We stared at his shaft pumping in and out at a slow pace, my insides swallowing more of him with each thrust. It was easy to see how much of him had entered me, because the condom became coated in my wetness, glistening in the intense light of the day.

It seemed I wasn’t the only one noticing this revealing detail.

“Look at this,” he ordered, pulling out almost entirely. “You’re so damned wet… I can feel how creamy and soft you are, even with the condom.”

He dove back, and I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying out. This had no right to be so good. Not when he hadn’t even entered me fully.

As much as I wished he’d rammed into me like a savage, I knew he could have seriously hurt me. Even now, with all the precautions he was taking, I could feel some amount of discomfort. I didn’t mind the stretch—on the contrary—but a painful tear might have put an abrupt end to everything.

Sensing that I was ready for all of his length, I threw my hips forward with his next shove, and finally, it disappeared inside me to the hilt. We moaned in unison, staring into each other’s eyes, each other’s souls as we did. Had he felt it too? That electric jolt that had shaken me?

“You’re so fucking snug around me,” he grunted, pressing his parted lips on my sweaty forehead.

“Anyone would feel snug around that . How are you so fucking big?”

He chuckled, which made him tremble on top of me and inside me. “Ah, fuck… don’t make me laugh. I need to focus.”

When he pulled out, I looked at the way his abs rolled under the tatted tautness of his stomach. I needed to memorize all of this, every single detail of him, every last gesture, sound, smell…

With more assurance than before, he penetrated me again, the base of him slamming into my sensitive clit. I muffled a curse in the crook of his neck.

It felt good. It felt too good. Like, inhumanely good.

He did it again, once, twice, and the third time triggered a shiver that bloomed from my center and ended in the tips of my fingers and toes, making the latter curl helplessly.

“Ulrik…”

“You like that?” He did it again, ramming inside me hard enough to make my thighs clench around his waist. My hands flew to his solid back and clenched against his skin, my nails digging into it, my arms pulling him closer.

“Yes… Please don’t stop.”

“I never want to stop,” he rasped into my ear. “I want to be doing this for all of eternity.”

“We have now,” I countered, feeling the need to remind him of our deal. “Let’s make the most of it.” With that, I forced his head down as I lifted mine, uniting our lips again.

Any ounce of discomfort caused by his imposing size quickly vanished. The pleasure he brought with each thrust and each retreat dimmed everything else, reducing my entire world to him. Only him.

Every time I looked up at him, at his cerulean eyes, his perfect bone structure, his lush lips… I was reminded of how lucky I was to be there, pinned by his weight on his mattress while he ravaged me with his cock. It didn’t matter how many other women had been where I was. I was now part of the lucky few, part of the blessed ones who’d experienced him.

His slow but firm pace gradually hastened, and soon, he was taking me at an unsparing rhythm. Between his girth and the depth of his thrusts, my lower body quickly turned into an overheated mess. I could feel everything with acute intensity, wishing it could last forever.

Because time lost its meaning, I couldn’t tell how long we stayed like this, with him ramming relentlessly into me, purposefully slamming onto my clit now and then. It might have been two hours, as much as ten minutes, and I was too lost in him to know better. But what I knew for sure was that he was making it last on purpose. He could have made me come in under five minutes, without a doubt. But instead, he bestowed on me enough pleasure for me to climb and climb, but not enough for me to tilt into bliss.

Since we were so good at it, we kept kissing between sighs, our tongues somehow familiar with one another. I’d always enjoyed making out, sometimes more than the sex itself, but it was something else entirely with him. He was divine at it, both dominant and pliant, knowing exactly what I wanted and how.

Sometimes, the sight of my breasts bouncing between us with each of his shoves distracted him, and he’d engulf a pebbled tip in the warmth of his mouth, wrapping his lips around it and dragging his tongue across the hardened nipple.

He was doing just that when my hands, which had been clawing at his back the entire time, left his shoulders to settle on his delectable ass. Like everywhere else on him, I noticed its firmness under my fingers, which I dug into the round muscles. That earned me a series of harsher shoves, his hips slapping against the insides of my thighs.

When my climax was on the verge of exploding, I noticed that the music outside was over. The album had reached its end, leaving nothing but the sounds of our fucking. His grunts, my soft cries, the wet noises between us, our shared panting, our fleshes clashing… It was so erotic it made my head spin, adding another dimension to my enjoyment of it all.

“You feel so fucking good, kjære ,” he growled. “I’m going to spill before we’ve even started.”

Shock made my eyes go round. Had we not started yet?! It seemed I was about to reach my limits.

He moved to lean on one arm, and before I knew it, he hooked the inside of his elbow under my knee and settled his forearm back on the mattress. The simple switch changed everything, leaving me more open than before, allowing him to slam deeper and harder inside my pulsing flesh.

“Oh, God,” I cried out, sensing tears gathering in my eyes. All of this was too much, but in the best of ways. I could feel my climax, that peak that I craved, so, so close. I could almost taste it, but it remained unreachable, as if behind a veil.

Fuck, I was about to implode in a million pieces.

“Are you about to come, Mila? I can feel you tighten and clench around me.”

Since teasing the shit out of me was apparently his favorite pastime, he slowed his pace, reducing it so much that my climb suddenly halted. The sinuous rolls of his hips gained in depth, but the stimulation wasn’t strong enough to maintain my pending climax.

“Asshole,” I muttered, desperate for release. But no matter how hard I tried to sway my hips under him, he refused me.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say. I might have to let your boss know how much of a demanding little brat you’ve been.”

“Oh, shut up,” I begged, igniting a faster momentum the best I could.

I didn’t have enough brainpower available to process his taunting, nor enough to entertain it. So, letting go of his ass, I pressed on it with my heels instead. With my newly freed hands, I pressed one on his mouth and sent the other one between us. He lifted himself just enough for me to reach my aching clit, and we watched as I rolled three fingers over it, frenzied by my need to climax.

Maybe he saw how desperate I was, maybe he took pity on me… but his thrusts returned to their former speed, his range still as deep. The short break had altered things, and when my climax came back into sight, its promise was even more intense than before.

My throaty moans floated between us, my fingers circling my clit intently, feeling his cock push in and out with fervor at their tips.

It was all too much… Way too much…

“That’s it, make yourself come, love,” he approved, speaking between my fingers, which clearly weren’t efficiently reducing him to silence. “Make me feel that tight little cunt of yours throb around my cock.”

More than my fingers, it was his words that got to me. I imploded . There was no other word for it.

All the tension, all the build-up… it all just came to an abrupt apogee, sending sparks and fireworks across my body from deep within. I stilled, but also jolted, trembled, and arched. My hand stopped working between my legs as I clung on to him instead, worried I might shatter into tiny shards if I didn’t.

Determined to ruin me entirely, he sent his own fingers there and rolled them over my pulsing clit, stretching the pleasure to even greater heights.

“Aah, Ulrik!” I wasn’t even sure of what I wanted. Was I asking for more or for less?

It all felt so intense, so surreal, it might as well have been an out-of-body experience. This couldn’t be me. There was no way my body could endure that much and not break. Every single nerve ending was having its own sparks. My skin was incandescent with pleasure. I was consumed by it, set ablaze. At that very moment, I could have died and wouldn’t have minded. I was peaking in every possible way.

“So…fucking…tight,” he grunted, his thrusts turning hectic.

I was still in the midst of my climax when he roared, prone to his own release. He tremored on top of me, his hands clasped around my hips in a bruising hold, keeping me right there while he stilled and tensed, his cock shoved as far inside me as he could. His face was in the crook of my neck, where he pressed his lips on my skin to muffle his ecstatic moans.

I hadn’t done much—hell, I hadn’t done anything, even when I’d been on top—but I felt terribly proud. Men who were vocal during sex were my weakness, so to make this particular man come so hard… It was the greatest compliment of all. Although I knew using a condom had been the right call, I regretted that he wasn’t pouring himself inside of me, wishing I could feel his cum jut in my quivering channel.

We came down together, sweating, panting, and spent. Christ, we’d more than started. This had been the best sex of my life by ten miles, and I would now need to recuperate for a couple of hours.

We remained glued together, without an inch to spare between our bodies. Our breaths somehow aligned, turning us into one giant organism with eight limbs and two heads. I’d never felt this close to anyone before, never felt like I belonged somewhere more than I did now.

I ran a soothing hand over the hard shapes of his back, sensing it rise and fall with each deep inhalation. He was even sweatier than when he worked out, which was a feat given his momentous routine. He’d given me his everything, hadn’t he? Gone above and beyond to satiate us both from the hunger that had gnawed at our cores for weeks.

My hand trailed up the hollow path of his spine, my fingers delicately grazing the smooth skin there. The simple touch triggered a reaction from him, and he throbbed inside me one more time, a Norwegian curse blowing against my neck.

Was it me, or was he not getting any softer? His shaft was still inside me, and so far, there were no signs of his erection weakening. As ludicrous as the thought was, something told me our staminas didn’t match. Mine was good, maybe a little too good for my usual sex partners. But his would seemingly be far greater. At least according to all his promises.

So, all in all, it was very much possible that his hard-on wasn’t going anywhere.

Where do we go from here?!

With what sounded like a pained grunt, he pushed himself on his elbows and took a moment to look down at me. There was something satisfied in his expression, but the hunger with which he looked at me was unmistakable.

His eyes glanced over my flushed face, lowered to my breasts, and he then pulled himself higher, looking down as he dislodged himself from within me. The emptiness he left behind displeased me, feeling unnatural, like I was missing something.

I watched, lying limp, as he kneeled between my parted legs. He was still hard, still thick and engorged, the glistening condom fitting him snugly. At the tip of it, the little pouch was filled with his seed—an abnormally large amount of it. Had he not had sex in a while, or had he wanted me that much?

I bit my lower lip, staring at the proof of his climax. To think it could all be seeping out of me right now… What a shame.

I had what Gigi called a fake breeding kink. Meaning a weird obsession with cum, but a fear of having a pregnancy resulting from it. Somehow, I just loved feeling full with a man’s pleasure, especially if that man was Ulrik fucking Westergaard.

“Condom switch,” he explained, sending a hand to get rid of the protection. He was still panting a little, his skin covered in a thin film of sweat. “And then I’ll take you again. Harder this time.”

“I’m not sure I can take harder.”

“What’s your name?”

“Mila.” I struggled to mask my smile, because I knew where he was going with this.

“Your full name.”

“Jamila Evelyn Connelly,”

“See? You still remember it. I’ll have to fuck you some more.”

Looking very proud of himself, he made his way to the edge of the bed, tying the filled condom and throwing it on the floor. As he looked for another one, I stretched my sore limbs, arching on the comfortable bedding. I was hypersensitive between my legs and pressing my knees together was enough to awaken my clit.

Fuck, harder wouldn’t do it. The damned thing might fall off from overstimulation, which would be a shame. I rather enjoyed having a clitoris.

Ulrik came back, having already discarded the foil packet and rolling the brand new condom on himself. He really hadn’t gone soft. Not even after everything he’d ejaculated, not even after what seemed to be a bone melting climax.

“On your hands and knees, Miss Connelly. Show me that delightful ass of yours,” he ordered.

I shivered from head to toe, biting my lip hard. Well… The idea of being taken from behind by this man was enough to reignite my lust for him. A girl had her preferences, and given how amazing missionary had been with him, I couldn’t wait to experience his version of doggy style.

It might be good enough to actually make me forget my name. Good enough to give me a limp for a week.

And maybe good enough to make me miss my plane.

【54】Irresistible

My limbs were oddly uncooperative. My body was weak and gooey, turning my attempt at turning around into something a little embarrassing. In my defense, though, I hadn’t eaten anything all day, and it was already the afternoon.

Also, I’d just been dicked within an inch of my life. That, for sure, didn’t help with the clumsiness.

Ulrik’s solid hands came to my aid, and he grabbed me by the hips to flip me around. An intimidated giggle spilled past my lips when he pulled me into position, leaving me ass up and face down.

“Do you have any idea how much that ass of yours has haunted me?” he asked. His voice was low and raspy, prompting me to rise to my elbow and turn around to look at him. His eyes were firmly set on said-ass, clearly enjoying the view. “I’ve dreamt that I was tearing those yoga pants to shreds more times than I can count.”

“Did your imagination do me justice?”

“Mila, nothing could have ever prepared me for the perfection of you.”

A broad smile claimed my lips, and I turned to face upfront, looking away from him. Wanting to drive him mad, I spread my knees on the sheets and arched my back in, offering him an even better sight.

It worked like a charm, and a dangerous sound rolled in his chest.

The mattress dipped below me as he adjusted his position, setting his knees on each side of mine. A lazy, contented smile tilted the corners of my lips up as I prepared myself for his intrusion. Moments ago, I’d felt like life had been drained out of me, but there I was, ready to do it all over again, ready to risk it all.

A dry, harsh slap stung my left butt cheek, its fleshy sound resonating in the vast room. My body jolted forward with surprise, a hot, tickling pain blooming on the skin of my ass.

“That’s for being an impossible tease,” he said. Another slap on the other side this time. “That’s for robbing me of my sanity.”

He bent forward, pressing himself on my opening, and my head spun with a mix of need and disorientation. “And this is for being so goddamn impossible to get out of my head.”

When his cock rammed into me with one swift and precise thrust, air was expelled from my lungs. My body jolted forward on instinct, even though there had been no pain, just the impossible stretch of his girth. He prevented my retreat, his grip holding my hips on each side, keeping me right there, impaled on all of him.

There had been no mercy this time, no patience, and no gentleness. Something in him had switched. He’d given up to this point, and now he was about to take .

The walls of my intimacy pulsed hard around him, adjusting the best they could to his size. Even with three orgasms, even with the intense fucking just before, my pussy was still struggling. Sure, size didn’t always matter, but a dick this good on a sex god like him was the ultimate weapon of mass destruction. Crazily enough, I didn’t mind getting wrecked by it. I actually wanted it with everything I had.

I sighed when he pulled out, half-relieved, and then moaned when he hammered back inside, his hips slapping against my behind. My whole body jolted forward at his intensity, my breasts bouncing under me, their tips grazing against the soft fabric of his sheets.

“Please…”

My plea, whatever the fuck it was for, triggered his sensual assault.

If I’d thought I was defenseless before, it was nothing compared to now. All I could do was clutch my fingers on the duvet, breathing the best I could between two moans or hiccups of pleasure. He showed no clemency, pulling me back onto him with each deep shove, plowing into me at a relentless pace.

I’d always considered myself to be a strong woman, inside and out, but I questioned it all while Ulrik was busy rearranging my insides. I’d never felt this powerless before, had never entrusted my body to anyone like I was doing with him. Only this fucking man could make me feel so petite and fragile, despite being five-eight and in the best shape of my life. And that inner strength? That unbreakable resilience in me? It was completely gone, replaced by wantonness and need.

He could ask literally anything of me, and I’d say yes. I’d beg yes, like the pathetic and whipped bitch I was.

While he kept a hand on my hip, he used the other one to draw a fiery path up my spine. The quick bun I’d thrown my hair in earlier was loose and messy, resting on my neck, and when I felt his fingers tangle into it, my entire body tensed with anticipation.

As suspected, he pulled on it harshly, forcing my head to whip up. My soft cry flew to the ceiling, my insides pulsating feverishly. His thrusts turned rapid, their amplitude short but deep.

“Ulrik… You’re going to—Aah!—break me,” I sobbed, feeling like I was about to shatter.

“Now, now… Don’t be so dramatic.”

Just to show how much worse—or better—it could get, he changed tactics and pulled out almost to the tip before ramming back inside. He kept doing just that as quickly as he could, stimulating every single nerve in my core. He went in so hard that his balls were thrown forward with the gesture, bouncing on my swollen clit.

“Ah! Fuck!” I shouted, trembling from head to toe. “I’m gonna come. Oh, God! Ulrik! I’m gonna—”

The rest was lost in chaos as I came. Hard.

Air caught in my throat as everything tensed in me. My breaths could only be short, my ribcage and stomach trapped by the way my muscles flexed. I saw stars, both from the low oxygen influx and the all-consuming pleasure that wrecked me. My orgasm flooded me, filling me in the most content yet alarming fashion. This felt as inevitable as death. Like I was actually going to the heavens.

Behind me, the rolls of his hips became slow, almost lazy. If I had to guess why, I’d say he wanted to enjoy all of my quivers, all the clenching, to savor it.

I was still jolting slightly when he gathered me against his solid torso, pulling me up so I was half sitting on him and half kneeling, still impaled on his cock.

My hair was now loose, so he pushed it to the side with a soft hand to kiss the side of my throat. With an ultimate sigh, I threw my head back to rest it on his shoulder, revelling in the moment.

“So, did I break you, kjære ?”

“Yes…”

His hand on my stomach rose to my breast, and it embraced the curve underneath it to settle over my heart, which I could sense was beating hectically.

“You seem very alive to me,” he chuckled.

“My body’s working. It’s my mind that’s gone.”

“Is it? What’s your name?” I could perceive his amusement, feel his smile, even, when he ran his lips up the column of my throat.

“I forgot,” I pretended, grinning as well.

The hand over my heart moved up just a bit, cupping the roundness of my breast instead. With his clever fingers, he pinched and twisted the nipple there. A jolt resulted from it, only to travel straight to my center, making it clench around him.

“I didn’t peg you for a quitter, darling.”

Still resting on his shoulder, I angled my face his way, tempted to tell him he’d be pretending the same if I were pegging him. My parted lips must have been too tempting because, after a starving look at them, he bent to kiss me.

Our tongues tangled in twists and grazes, our breaths meddling together as we savored each other’s taste. His hand was still playing with my nipple, and when the other one slowly traveled south of me, I whimpered in his mouth.

“Just a small one,” he negotiated, setting a gentle finger on my overworked bundle of nerves. “A soft and easy orgasm, so I can feel you throb around me again.”

None of my orgasms had been small so far. Nor soft or easy, for that matter… I doubted the man could even give me one of those, too much of a perfectionist to allow it. With him, it was world-bending, knee-shaking, and mind-boggling or nothing.

And I wasn’t sure I had any of those left to give.

But as he leisurely teased my sensitive nub, right above where his dick was buried inside me, unmoving, I began questioning it. Once more, it was as though he knew exactly what I needed and how. My engorged clit was overly sensitive at the moment, but he kept his touch to the perfect pressure.

As his fingers kept doing their magic, my body decided to claim its due, discarding all basic survival instincts. To my absolute bewilderment, my hips began grinding against his. Our position allowed little movement, but the small swirls of my lower body were enough to add some friction inside me. Not much of it, but enough.

“There you go, elskling . You take me so good, you’re so fucking greedy… You love my cock, don’t you?”

I nodded, swallowing back a moan.

“Hmm… I love your cunt, too. So warm, so soft… And when you come around me, you clench so fucking hard it drives me insane.”

Ah, I’d have to remember to thank Gigi for this. Her pelvic floor-friendly yoga positions hadn’t been in vain. Not if Ulrik enjoyed fucking me so much. A little rougher this time, he pressed my aching nub between two fingertips, sending a jolt that was right on the edge of pain and pleasure. I couldn’t hold back the cry it triggered.

“You know, I wasn’t supposed to come, earlier,” he said right into my ear. “I had in mind to last much longer, but you feel too good, love. That drenched little pussy of yours is irresistible.”

My hips had gone rogue on me, desperately trying to back up on his cock, my body demanding every ounce of pleasure it could get. When his hands coordinated, twisting a hardened nipple at the same time that he rolled a deft fingertip on my clit, I tilted into bliss once more.

And the craziest thing was that it was small, soft, and easy.

He held me as I came, his arms circling me in a tight embrace, his lips dropping open-mouth kisses on my throat, cheeks, and temple. My breathy cries filled the room, my hands clasping around the thick muscles of his forearms, shivers slithering under my skin.

Once I came down, once I stopped quivering around him and my breathing became more controlled, he wrapped a hand around my throat at the base of my jaw, and made me turn his way. Imperious, he took possession of my mouth, plastering his on it and kissing with intensity. It was as though he was giving me the breath of life, helping me reboot my body and mind.

“What’s your name?” he demanded, pulling away by less than an inch.

“I actually don’t remember this time.”

His coy smile told me he didn’t believe me, but he played the part, still. “Do you remember mine? You’ve been screaming it a lot, after all.”

“Ulrik.”

“Ulrik what?”

“Westergaard. Now, stop talking. I need a minute.”

“Hmm, that’s what I feared.”

Even though I should have known he was teasing me, I’m too far gone to realize it. “What?”

“You’re still bossing me around.”

“I’m a natural.”

His hands, which were lazily trailing across my front, rose to my breasts. He fondled them with expert moves, and I groaned in disapproval. I wasn’t ready for more sex right now. I really needed a moment to gather myself.

“Wait,” I began.

“No. That’s enough mercy for you, Miss Connelly. Now I mean business.”

Before I could say anything else, he pushed me forward, making my upper body fall back onto the mattress. Without ever dislodging himself from within me, he adjusted our legs so that my knees were pressed together as I lay flat on my stomach while he straddled me. Effortlessly, he pulled my hips up and shoved a couple of pillows under there, bringing my ass up just a little, aligning me to the perfect angle.

More protests gathered in my throat, but when he backed up and slammed into me, they all turned into a deep moan. And then another one when he did it again. And another one.

This position was somehow worse and better than the others. He didn’t enter me as deeply as before, but the upward way he fucked me made the head of his cock glide against my front wall with every thrust. And there was nothing I could do. I was helplessly stuck under him, both wanting more pleasure and fearing it. Fuck, I might actually miss my plane…

All the while he kept ravaging me, his lush mouth dropped to the tattoo between my shoulder blades, and he kissed it before dragging his tongue on the lines and details of it. Even now, as overwhelmed as I was, I wanted more. I wanted this man wrapped around me, every inch of my skin touching his.

It wasn’t lost on me how I’d completely surrendered control of our amorous moments. Passive wasn’t a word I’d use to describe myself when it came to sex, but his natural assertiveness and dominance had gotten the best of me. I was but a witness, a spectator of his grandeur, submitting to his will and letting him do whatever he wanted to me. And while I might have been able to reclaim some authority earlier, I was now incapable of standing up for myself. I was way too weakened for that. I had orgasm-brain—multiple-orgasm-brain—and that meant I couldn’t think properly.

Especially not when another climax was already gathering in my core. It would be the fifth one. Or was it the sixth? Fuck, I’d lost count already. It felt like ten, at the very least.

He had to follow me this time. I had to make him come with me, because it was the only way I’d get a break. Unless he remained hard, like before. No, there was no way he could. He was just a man, after all, and there were limits to what his body could do.

Deciding on the only course of action I could think of, I crossed my ankles and tightened my legs together as hard as I could. Because of our position, it added significant pressure between my thighs, all the way to my pussy where he was still plunging with intensity. Adding to it, I also squeezed my insides around him, which made him curse.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned.

Every working brain cell was focused on keeping that pressure, on pushing him to his own climax. To my disadvantage, it also added to my enjoyment of his ministrations, fast tracking my orgasm. But it was okay, because I could feel how hectic his thrusts were getting.

I was so focused that my release sneaked up on me, surprising me out of the blue. It made me lose control, but the clamping and writhing worked in my favor. Still lost in bliss, I felt him pull out, leaving my walls clenching and throbbing onto themselves.

In the corner of my mind, I worried he’d pulled out to regain control, to stop himself from coming, which would be disastrous for me. But as soon as I heard the snap of latex, meaning he’d ripped the condom away from his dick, I relaxed with a moan. Still prone to my own orgasm, I arched my back, offering him a stunning view of my ass and glistening folds. I smiled wide when I heard his animalistic roar, as well as the fleshy and wet sound of his hand jerking himself off.

Seconds after he’d pulled out of me, warm strings of cum splashed onto my lower back. He moaned with each of them, never halting the harsh pace of his fist fucking himself. Just like the first time, I could tell there was an insane amount of it, landing on my skin over and over for what felt like forever.

When, eventually, his moans ceased, as well as the warm spurts, I let my head fall back on the mattress, mischievously smiling to myself. I’d done it. I’d made him come. This break that I was about to get would be hella deserved.

Fuck, I hoped I’d be getting one, at least…

【55】Take Your Time

With a long sigh of utter contentment, Ulrik dragged the round tip of him against the softness of my ass, wiping the last drops of cum clinging onto him. He remained there for a moment, admiring what I could only guess was a stunning view. I could feel his essence slowly dripping down my skin. Some of it had jutted nearly all the way to my shoulder, the proof of how intense his orgasm had been.

“I thought there was nothing more enchanting than your naked body, but I was wrong,” he said in a raspy voice. “Seeing you covered in my cum is tenfold better.”

I moved just enough so I could glimpse at him, not hiding my proud grin. “Is it?”

He nodded, seemingly as satisfied as I was.

Using the very last bit of strength I possessed, I sent a weakened arm toward my lower back, where I could feel a thick drop slowly roll down my hip. There, I dragged a finger over it, gathering as much as I could. His eyes were locked on me as I then brought my index, glistening with his cum, to my lips. Because this was for my own enjoyment, I didn’t even look at him when I welcomed it in my mouth, curling my tongue around it to get it all.

Hmm… The man tasted good. Almost sweet, if I had to compare it to others.

“Fuck…” he grunted.

I was still beaming with delight when he lowered down on me. Resting his shaft between the mounds of my behind, he pressed a long kiss on the curve of my shoulder. Well, this time, I could tell that he was properly satiated, his erected length already softening. I pressed a little harder into it, just to make sure, and he groaned.

“Miss Connelly, you will be my fucking death.”

His lips were inches from my skin, his warm breath tickling it. I pushed myself on my elbows, twisting my face toward him.

“The feeling’s mutual, Mr. Westergaard.”

When I extended my neck his way, he gladly took my invitation and kissed me. It was slow and lazy, but still as poignant and amazing as when he was being intense and dominant. This fucking demigod of a man could really do it all.

He was the one pulling away first, leaving me wanting more despite my better judgment. Displaying an uncanny amount of strength given all that had just happened, he pushed himself off of me and then off the bed. He grabbed the discarded condom on the floor, as well as the one he’d thrown on the sheets. Not holding back a dreamy grin, I watched his perfect body as he made his way to another room. His tattooed back didn’t show any signs of my nails ripping it to shreds, so that was a relief. My gaze remained on the roundness of his ass as he walked away, greatly enjoying the way it moved with each step he took.

I guessed he’d disappeared into a bathroom when I heard water running. Hoping he might come back with something to clean his mess, I fought the urge to roll on my back and stretch my sore limbs.

As suspected, he was holding a small and wet towel when he returned, but also a tall glass of water. He settled the drink on the nightstand and sat by my limp body. At the first brush on my back, I closed my eyes to enjoy his sweet treatment. The warm cloth dragged against my sweaty skin, following the ropes of cum he’d ejaculated all over me. As I’d perceived, there was a lot of it, and it spanned from my bottom to my shoulder blades. Once I was all cleaned up, he dropped a kiss on the back of my arm, right on my dodo tattoo.

“Turn around,” he said softly.

I complied—painfully—and found him refolding the cloth to use a clean part of it. My legs spread on their own when he brought the warm towel to my core, and I sensed my face warm up as he took care of my overly sensitive folds. While he focused on his task, I tried to remember if a man giving aftercare was the bare minimum or a treat to cherish. Well, I would take it as the latter, since I was very much enjoying the fact that this divine man was taking care of me.

His attention moved from his work to my replete face, and I understood why instantly. The hand between my legs wasn’t as focused on cleaning me up anymore, but rather interested in teasing my clit.

“No,” I protested with a lopsided smile. “I need a break. Seriously.”

He kept doing it, though, mischievous. I sent my hand to his, grabbing his wrist and dislodging it. “I’m not kidding, Ulrik. I need to eat more than I need you. All I’ve had today was coffee.”

My last argument seemed to shake some sense in his thick skull, making him frown with disapproval. “You haven’t eaten?”

“No. I was about to when you arrived. My lasagna is still in the microwave.”

He clicked his tongue, clearly irked. “You should have told me sooner. I thought you were this feeble because you’re a lightweight, not because you’re minutes from starvation.”

My jaw dropped, stunned by how fast he’d gone from horny to concerned. “Not that you deserve any compliment after calling me a lightweight, but this is ninety percent your dick, ten percent low blood sugar,” I argued, gesturing at my weakness.

He mumbled something, unimpressed. Still holding the towel, he slid to the edge of the bed. “Here, drink this,” he ordered, handing me the glass from the nightstand. “I’ll go fix us something.”

Sitting up came with its own share of struggles, but I managed. I took the glass from him and brought it to my lips right away. I was parched. Barely three sips in, he was already out of the room, having thrown the towel back in the bathroom, on his way to the kitchen.

The glass was downed in one go, and I almost regretted there wasn’t more. Insanely good sex really makes you thirsty, doesn’t it?

Using my venture point, I finally took some time to discover his room. Two of the walls were floor-to-ceiling glass, and in the corner where they joined, there was a lounge area set up, with a designer couch and two assorted armchairs, as well as a coffee table. The bed sat in the middle of the room, majestic with its size, and there were a few consoles and chests of drawers cleverly placed along the walls. Paintings were hanging in places, and the fact that those were classical pieces, rather than modern ones, gave off a unique vibe. Even from where I sat, I could tell those were from renowned artists, probably valued at millions of dollars. Ulrik was a collector alright…

I sat there in silence for a moment until I couldn’t keep ignoring my bladder any longer. I needed to get up to pee and check myself out in a mirror. With a dramatic moan, I fell back on the bed. I surely couldn’t stand up, let alone walk. But nature was calling, and I’d rather not end up with a UTI because I was a “lightweight.”

With the graceless agility of a seal, I slid my tired frame to the edge of the bed, doing my best to ignore the pulsing still going on between my legs. He’d rearranged my insides alright, and my heart was now down there, somehow.

Once my feet were set on the heated floor, I took a deep breath and pushed myself up.

Ah, shit… Sore wasn’t even the word for it. I was ruined . I’d never believed the idea that pain and pleasure were two sides of the same coin, but if that wasn’t proof of it… I was aching, in a way that I would consider worrisome enough to go to the hospital if I didn’t know exactly where it came from. At that point, it wouldn’t even surprise me if I could still feel him down there in a year. That was how much impact he’d made on my pussy.

“Ulrik Big Dick Westergaard,” I mumbled to myself. Then, with a cocky little smirk, I added, “Knew it…”

Not parting with my grin, I wobbled my way to the bathroom. Christ, it was huge. Just like mine, the wall in the back was entirely glassed, offering a stunning view of the surrounding forest. The snow was finally sticking to the ground, coating everything in a cushiony layer of perfect white. There wasn’t much of it yet, and unless the weather got more serious, this wouldn’t be a problem for my departure.

My chest tightened at the thought, and I wished it could stop doing that. It was the deal. Sex—as much as we could give and take—and then back to London.

I shook my head, dismissing the unwelcome thoughts. “Get it together, Mimi.”

Following a challenging stop on the toilet, I walked up to the double sink where a wide mirror was set up. Well, I looked… thoroughly fucked. Tiredness showed on my features, my hair was a mess, my skin remained flushed all over… But somehow, I was still gleaming. My puffy lips, my shiny eyes, the color in my cheeks… I looked remarkably decent for someone who’d just died and gone to heaven what, six? Seven times?

Just because I was a little vain like that, I fluffed my hair and splashed some water on my face so I’d look my best. Thank God I hadn’t been wearing makeup, or Ulrik would have ended up with a sweaty raccoon toward the end.

He still wasn’t back when I returned to the bedroom, so I flopped onto the bed, drained. Because the air of the room felt cold on my humid skin, I then crawled my way under the soft duvet. I was torn between eating and sleeping, and if Ulrik wasn’t back in five minutes, I’d probably doze off. Leaning on the side, I pushed my face into the pillow. A familiar fragrance had my senses tingle, so I inhaled it deeper. How could this man smell so good? Was this because all his money could buy the best products out there? Or was he genetically this perfect?

“There’s no way I’m letting you sleep,” his deep, sensuous voice declared. I opened my eyes, glimpsing at him returning with a large tray, still entirely naked.

Yes, he was genetically perfect, no one could deny that…

“You’ve exhausted me,” I complained.

“You’ll sleep on the plane or when you’re back in London. There’s no time for rest until then.”

When he settled his offerings on the bed, I forced myself to sit up with a pout, not minding my exposed chest. Food was a good start for my recovery, but I’d have to sleep as well if I didn’t want to pass out at some point.

He’d brought many, many things, and I now understood why he’d spent so long out there. There was not only my lasagna but also a bunch of other stuff, like slices of the amazing lemon cake Yuko had baked, bread, cheese, fruits, charcuterie, smoked salmon… And even two tall glasses filled with thick purplish pink smoothies.

I grabbed the plate of lasagna first, as well as a fork, and quickly dug into it. Ugh, it was so good to be eating… I promptly sliced myself another piece and put it in my mouth.

“You should take your time, kjære .”

A little confused, I glanced up at him. He was watching me with amusement, sitting on the other side of the tray. “Why?” I asked, masking the content of my mouth with my hand.

“Because I’m fucking you again as soon as you’re done eating.”

My eyes rounded at the threatening promise. Shit, yeah… I should eat slowly…

I savored my dish, taking small bites and chewing on them for ages, admiring the spectacle of him. I couldn’t get over his tattoos. How could ink be so hot? What was the logic in this? Even just watching him make himself a buttered toast with salmon on it turned into an erotic show. The way his muscular arms moved underneath the tatted skin, or how the drawings flattered the bumpy plane of his stomach… I could almost imagine him a thousand years ago, fighting among his ancestors and swinging an ax, looking so fucking hot and sexy I’d probably melt in seconds.

“If you keep looking at me like this, I’ll fuck you again before you’re done eating,” he warned.

There was no point in denying that I had been eating him up as much as my lasagna, so I shrugged my shoulders. “Stop looking so edible, and I might.”

“Alright, I’ll be the meal, then.” He gestured toward my plate, having in mind to take it from me, but I held it out of the way.

“Back off, Westergaard,” I countered, holding my fork like a weapon. “You’ve come in the way of me and my lunch enough as it is.”

He chuckled, making me shamelessly ogle his stomach. In the best of worlds, I would be eating the lasagna off his abs. It sounded messy, but God had given us a tongue for a reason.

We ate in silence, because what could we even say? It was supposed to be just sex, and now wasn’t the time for bonding and getting to know one another. Things were complicated enough as they were. No need to make it even messier.

When he accepted my offer, I handed him the rest of my plate, grabbing a piece of cheese instead. I’d drunk half of my smoothie already, but I’d probably keep the rest for later, as it might be too much. We would undeniably have sex again, and it wasn’t something I wanted to do with an overly full stomach.

“All good?” he asked once he was done with the plate. After one last look at what was left, I nodded. He plopped a grape in his mouth before getting up.

He was so nonchalant with the way he took the tray to settle it on a chest of drawers, I almost thought he’d changed his mind about more sex. Just in case he had, I pulled the duvet over my shoulders, to not tempt him with my breasts.

How naïve of me…

The instant his eyes settled on me when he turned around, I knew I’d been wrong. Something carnivorous had ignited in him, and I was in for another thorough dicking.

“Wait,” I tried to negotiate, giggling when he pulled the duvet from my feeble grip. He joined me under the covers with supple ease, grinning like an idiot. “Ulrik—”

My protest was swallowed by his eager lips, his hands drawing me to him with desire. “You—Ahh… Your stamina is ridiculous,” I managed to say, struggling to focus, given the way his hand was now molded against the space between my legs.

“You make it that way. I’ve just fucked you for an hour and a half, and I still want more.”

The fact that I actually processed this information was a damn miracle. “Wait, what time is it?” I asked, pushing against his broad chest.

He let go of me to extend a hand to the nightstand, where he flipped a clock our way. “Almost four.”

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” Frenziedly, I snaked my way out from under him. I was reminded of my southern condition when I stood, which made me grimace. But there was no time to cater to my aching intimacy.

“What’s happening?” he asked as I looked for my clothes.

“I need to go shower. I have a bus in forty minutes.”

He sat up, still perplexed. “Didn’t you say your plane was at nine?”

“Yeah, but I’m going to Trondheim first, to drop off Reggie at a shelter.”

“So you’re leaving now ?”

“That’s the plan, yes.” Where the hell was my sweater?!

“I thought we had more time,” he argued again. The disappointment in his voice made my heart twitch. I would have loved more time as well…

I finally located my top, hidden under his clothes, and snatched it. Just as I straightened up, Ulrik’s broad hand clasped my wrist. “I’m not done with you, Mila. We were supposed to have a few more hours.”

“I’m sorry, I should have told you. But you’ve been keeping me rather busy, and I forgot. But everything’s set; the shelter is even waiting for us.”

“Forget about the damn cat for a second, will you? You can’t go right now, it’s—It’s too soon.”

“I don’t have a choice,” I explained with a pained expression, trying to wring my wrist out of his hold.

“What if I handle Reginald? I’ll drive you to the airport at the last moment, and at some point next week, I’ll bring the cat to Trondheim.”

“You would?”

“If it means you don’t have to go right this instant, yes, I would.”

I stilled, genuinely considering his offer. If I could help it, I would rather stay with him as well. As much as I complained, I wanted more of him, more sex, more moments in his bed… My biggest issue was Reggie, but if Ulrik was fine with handling him…

“Are you sure?” I hesitantly asked. Since I was willing to listen, he released me.

“Certain.”

“You promise you wouldn’t just kick him out and abandon him to fend for himself in the woods?”

“I’m not a monster, Mila. I just don’t like cats.”

“It’s one and the same.”

He let out a single chuckle, his mouth bent in a lopsided smile. “I promise I’ll take good care of him. You give me the shelter’s name and I’ll be there on Monday with the little fucker.”

“See, you calling him that makes me dou—Ah!”

Apparently, the negotiations were over. At least for Ulrik, because he pulled me back into the bed with him, trapping me under the covers against his powerful body. I looked up, getting lost in the blue depth of his eyes.

“Okay, I’ll stay,” I agreed, gently grazing his temple, arranging a rogue strand of his hair. “But on one condition.”

“Anything you want, elskling .”

“We can have sex again, but you have to let me rest afterward.”

“Anything you want but that.”

I giggled at the humor I could hear in his tone. “We haven’t all inherited super genes from our ancestors, Ulrik. I’ll need a break.”

He capitulated with a sigh. “Alright, you’ll have half an hour to rest.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, moving to claim his lips.

As we rolled together under the fine sheets of his bed, I realized my mistake. He’d granted me half an hour whenever we were done fucking, but there had been no mention of just how long this would last. Knowing how greedy and stubborn he was, I couldn’t put it past him to keep us busy for a solid hour, if not two.

Well, you live and you learn.

As he’d said, I could always sleep on the plane, and then in my bed in London.

My very empty and very cold bed.

【56】Make it Count

Waking up from a coma probably felt the same as when I came back to my senses. Ten hours might have gone by since I’d fallen asleep, as much as five minutes. I was completely and utterly lost, disoriented, and confused.

It was the sensation of heat lingering between my legs that brought it all back. Ulrik . I’d fucked Ulrik. Or rather, he’d fucked me. Many times.

Still half into slumber, I moved to ease the discomfort at my core. As soon as I did, I realized that I was plastered all over his side, my cheek resting on his chest while I had a leg hooked up over his. My eyes fluttered open, landing on the intricate drawings tattooed on his torso, which rose and fell with his deep, peaceful breaths.

I did my best not to wake him as I tilted my head up. He looked serene—more than I’d ever seen him before—and content, even in his sleep. Looking at him like this, I was brought back to the first time I’d met him. He’d looked so proper and dashing in the Viking gallery, with his perfectly tailored suit, his impeccable haircut, and his distinguished manners. Back then, I would never have guessed his tattoos, his dirty tongue, his insatiable appetite… Although, the heavy flirting and his cocky assurance had quickly betrayed his substantial libido.

Feeling so damn lucky to have ended up in bed with him after all, I pressed a kiss on the solid pec underneath my cheek. He didn’t even flinch, still deeply resting. Well, he was exhausted too, no matter what he’d pretended. Maybe he could have kept it up the entire afternoon, but clearly, resting was welcomed on his side as well.

Still as discreet as I could be, I moved from my comfortable position and turned to the nightstand. Another glass full of water was waiting for me there, courtesy of my host, so I sat up to down it. My eyes drifted to the clock when I settled it back, and the time on it sent a little shock through me. Shit, we’d overslept. Instead of half an hour, we’d dozed off for more than one, stealing away some of the little time we had left. He would be as disappointed as I was when he’d realize.

I turned back to my lover for the afternoon, using his unconscious state to admire his perfection. The covers were down to his hips, low enough for me to enjoy his powerful upper body, as well as the deep V framing his lower abs. If I’d had my phone with me, I would have snapped a picture of him, just so that I would never forget how damn gorgeous he was. I wanted to engrave those fucking tattoos into my brain, so that I could see them every time I closed my eyes.

Adamant to make the best of it and not waste another second, I plastered my front on his side again. “Ulrik,” I gently called before caressing his chest with soft fingers and kissing it. He didn’t even stir. “Ulrik, wake up,” I tried again, louder.

Because he made me greedy like that, I began a sensuous exploration of his torso with my lips. My tongue followed the lines of his tattoos, my desire for him already rising from its ashes. A little offended that my ministrations weren’t enough to pull him from his dreams, I mischievously bit on his skin.

That did something, and he mumbled my name, moving under me. “Wake up, Norseman. We slept too much.”

“Fuck… we did?”

“I’m afraid so. We need to leave in fifty minutes. And I’ll need half of it to be spent showering. I feel filthy.”

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Did this mean he’d planned on watching me the whole time? Flattered by the idea, I offered him a naughty smile. My hand slid under the cover, following the path between his defined abs. “Well, you’re up now.”

My fingers reached the base of his dick, and I boldly wrapped them around him, delighted to see he was already swelling. “Hmm… Yes you are.”

Using his arm around my shoulders, he brought me closer to him, demanding a kiss. I indulged him while massaging his length, working it to a splendid erection. His urgency matched mine when he sent his available hand to my crotch. As soon as I parted my legs to grant him access, he deftly worked on my own arousal.

Tangled together half under the covers, we stroked and grazed, writhing in each other’s embrace as we prepared ourselves for what would be our very last embrace. Time didn’t allow for more, especially not more of his version of sex.

I had grown sleek around his fingers, drenching them in my juices, and when he easily thrust three of them deep inside me, I decided I was ready enough. He certainly was, thick, long, and pulsing in my palm. With an impatient moan, I ripped myself away from him and rolled toward the nightstand again. From its drawer, I extracted another condom, which I ripped open right away, using my teeth.

His hands assisted me as I straddled him, as eager as I was. We both watched as I rolled the latex down his massive erection, managing despite the trembling of my fingers. The instant he was sheathed in it, I rose on my knees and aligned myself with him. Using my hand, I guided the round head of his cock to my weeping entrance, and then lowered. The stretch that came with his size still surprised me, as if I hadn’t had over two hours of him inside me already. I closed my eyes to focus on the sensation, to feel it all, to memorize it. My hips rolled slowly, languorously, pushing down on him a little further each time.

By the time I took all of him, pleasure was already building up in my pit, making my nipples pebble in the cool air, the hair on my skin rising. “You feel so good,” I moaned, unmoving on top of him.

“You too, skatt . So fucking good…”

Something in the raspiness of his voice compelled me to open my eyes again. The sight of him, so broad and so and uncannily attractive, almost made me regret not taking charge sooner. As much as I had adored his relentless ministrations, I also loved being on top. Not just because it left me in charge of my own pleasure, allowing me to do what felt best, but because I always felt so powerful riding a man, like a pagan warrior from olden times. And with this man? Oh, I felt like a pagan goddess.

While he held my hips with a tight grip, I bent over to press my open hands on the muscular roundness of his pecs. Our gazes remained locked together as I initiated the slow, lascivious swaying of my hips. It took a couple of tries for me to find what angle worked best, so that I could not only press my most sensitive parts on him, but also so my pussy could take all of him each time.

The dominant part of him had completely vanished, replaced by a docile and worshiping demeanor. Because yes, he worshiped me with his eyes, his words, and his hands. It was such a stark contrast with the sex we’d had before. When he’d been in charge, I’d never felt more helpless and puny in my life, but now… I felt like I could conquer the entire world, like I was the most formidable woman to ever exist.

It was all so amazing that I never thought of checking on the clock. I was enjoying myself way too much to worry about time. Before long, though, my thighs were burning from the efforts, my throat aching from the cries, my hands clenched over his chest… From below, he still managed to heighten everything, thrusting up against my shoves so I’d be impaled on him even more, twisting my nipples, saying naughty, praiseful things to me…

When I finally came, he pulled me down to take my lips. Topping from the bottom once more, he fucked me from below, stretching my climax to impossible ends. It was soft but long, leaving me gasping for air and moaning into his mouth. My body trembled and jolted, my walls pulsing as though to milk him dry. Even as distracted by my climax as I was, though, I knew he wasn’t coming with me. No, per usual, he would do his best to make it last, to take more than I thought I could give.

But not all of us had showers in our planes, and there was no way I’d step out of this mansion reeking of sex. I needed to make time for a long shower, if not even a bath, to relieve my sore everything .

When I had gathered myself enough, when my brain was working again, I gave him one last brush of my tongue before pressing my hands on his torso to sit up. I glimpsed at the clock, which confirmed my worries. Twenty-eight minutes left if I didn’t want to be late, and that included finishing up my suitcase and stopping by the reserve one last time to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything.

Knowing what needed to be done, I looked down at him, almost getting distracted by his amazing eyes. “You have three minutes to come,” I told him. “If you don’t, I’ll leave you high and dry to get ready.”

Clearly displeased by the idea, he checked on the time himself. Upon reading the hour, his face turned sour, his gaze dark. He didn’t have a choice, and he knew it.

To make up for his obvious disappointment, I decided to make those three minutes as fun as possible. He hadn’t gotten to try my mouth yet, and this was the only opportunity he had for it.

Just as I was about to dislodge him from my core and lower to wrap my lips around his shaft, he sat up with energy. His solid arm hooked my waist as he moved us around, and before I knew it, he was sitting by the side of the bed. When he stood with remarkable ease, my limbs clung around him, worried I might get dropped.

“Ulrik, wha—”

“Your shower or mine?”

“Oh…” Well, that was an option I hadn’t thought of. But if all he had to do was to finish, then it wouldn’t take too much time away from the actual cleaning part. “Uh, mine. I’ll need my shampoo and conditioner.”

He gave me a dry nod and, still holding me with an arm behind me and one below, he moved toward the door. I couldn’t hold back my entertained smile as he walked us up the corridor. My door was still open, so he entered the room uninterrupted. Still carrying me, still inside me, he went to the large shower and turned the faucet on, standing in a strategic spot that prevented us from being doused in cold water. As soon as it was hot, he brought us underneath the jet, pressing me against the marbled wall.

“Okay, you now have five minutes,” I conceded.

“That’s all?”

“Make it count,” I whispered right before ravaging him with a deep kiss.

He did, in fact, make it count.

After several minutes of maddeningly intense shoves, I came again, which I wasn’t expecting, and he followed me within seconds, keeping me tightly pinned on the wall as he came with guttural moans, his forehead pressed on the crook of my neck. My fingers toyed with his wet hair as he came down, soothing his overwhelmed mind.

Many seconds passed until the stall became completely silent, aside from the water running. The atmosphere was suddenly heavy, charged with uneasiness. That was it. We were done. Our afternoon of sex had reached an end, and now came the second half of our deal.

Me leaving.

Slowly, he pulled out of me and helped me down. I was thankful for the wall behind me, because I might have lost my balance without it, my knees having turned to jelly. My eyes avoided his as I tried to figure out how to navigate the tension that weighed the surrounding air.

Ulrik handled the condom, tying it as he exited the stall.

What now? Was that it? Would he just leave?

My chest was painfully tight as I watched him throw it in the garbage can by the toilet. Everything in me wanted to ask him to shower with me, but I bit my tongue to fight it. It was over. We’d had our fun and now had to move on.

But instead of heading for the door, his feet brought him back my way. A relief grin claimed my face when he reentered the stall, my heart much lighter already. And when he greedily brought me his way for a kiss, I felt light enough to fly.

We barely spoke, since there was no need for it, but it didn’t prevent us from being intimately close. With soapy hands, we washed each other, ridding ourselves of our afternoon of passion.

“Is this one recent?” I asked, grazing a round tattoo he had over his right shoulder. It was an intricate sigil, clearly Viking, but unlike anything I’d seen before.

He gazed at it, frowning slightly. “No. Why?”

“It feels a little bumpy, like it’s not fully healed,” I explained, dragging my index over it to feel its irregular texture.

“I guess the quality isn’t great. It’s actually the first one I got.”

“Really? How old were you?”

He grimaced, which only made me want to know the answer more. “I was a kid.”

Now, that was vague… Could have been eleven as much as it could have been nineteen. Once more, it piqued my curiosity even further. “Did you get a tattoo underage?”

“It’s a story for another time, love.”

The curiosity within me faded, replaced by a tight knot in my stomach. There wouldn’t be another time. These were our last moments, our ultimate encounter. And he knew that perfectly, which meant he was blowing me off, done entertaining my questions. Why should he bother answering me, since we were done and would part forever in a couple of hours?

It really was over, which was tearing me apart. Melancholia made tears gather in my eyes, and because I refused to let him see them, to show my weakness, I moved under the jet, hiding my sorrows in the warm water.

I’d promised to him, as well as myself, that I could do no-strings-attached. Now was the time to prove it. No matter how excruciating it would be.

And I was about to return home, to have my emotional support Gigi back.

I could do it.

【57】Walk Away

Ulrik

A fucking idiot. A bloody moron. An utter twat…

Those were three of the many ways I would describe myself in that very moment. And something told me that Mila had a few more in mind that I hadn’t thought of yet. She’d certainly had the time to find them, since we’d been sitting in complete silence for the past hour and a half.

The speed at which we had gone from being lost in the throes of passion to this uneasy tension was uncanny. If anyone had seen us right now, they could never had guessed we’d just spent most of our afternoon fucking, thinking instead that we couldn’t stand each other. But this was for our own sakes. At least for mine.

I observed her in the corner of my eye, admiring her profile like it was the last time—which it might be. Her hair was still wet from our shower together, her clean scent tickling my nostrils. Her computer bag was on her lap, her arms holding it tightly as though to shield herself with it.

For the tenth time, I scolded myself for falling asleep earlier, like an imbecile. My mistake had stolen some precious minutes from us, which I’d regret for a while. But even with that extra half-hour, even if we hadn’t napped at all, it would still have been too early for her to go. I needed entire days to get my fill of her, to satiate my need for her. Not mere hours.

Even though her departure had been ever present the whole time, looming over us like a relentless threat, we’d somehow managed to ignore it. I’d deluded myself into thinking it would be enough. With any other woman, it would have worked, at least to some extent. But not with her. She’d flipped the script, changed the stakes, and ruined my resolve. I couldn’t remember if anyone else had ever obsessed me as much as she did, just like I couldn’t remember sex being ever this spectacularly great either. But maybe it was because of all the buildup, the weeks of agonizing desire that had led us to it.

Yes, that must be it, I told myself, adding another layer to my delusions.

It was easier to fool myself into believing that than to accept the truth. In fact, I denied myself any introspection, refusing to dwell on all those feelings and thoughts clawing at me from inside my head and chest.

I knew better than to listen to those, so they would remain ignored. Time had been a cruel teacher, but no matter how stubborn I was, I’d learned my lesson. My life didn’t allow for a complication like her in it.

“How much longer?” she asked, distracting me from my thoughts.

It was her first words since her small “thanks” when I’d settled her suitcase in the boot. Since then, she’d been sitting in the passenger seat, gazing at the snow falling in the night. When I turned to her, I noticed she was still angled away from me, her attention on the darkness outside.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes. You won’t miss your plane.”

“Great.”

Silence filled the car again, and I let it happen. It was easier that way.

Maybe I should have put on some music to alleviate the tension, but it was now too late for that. I’d been too preoccupied to think of it when we’d left. The same question that was still plaguing my mind had tuned out everything else. What the fuck am I doing?

And, to be honest, I still didn’t know what to answer to that.

She deserved better. Infinitely better. Mila deserved that I apologized, that I fell to my knees and begged for her to stay. She deserved devotion and praise; she deserved someone emotionally available, someone who could give her every single thing she could ever want. I’d met my fair share of amazing women in my life, but most of them paled in comparison to her. Her passion, her wits, her stubbornness, her entire mind… She was too uniquely herself, too refreshingly new. The novelty of her was my biggest weakness, the hardest thing to resist. Nothing surprised me anymore, but she did. Constantly.

I sourly ruminated my thoughts for the rest of the drive, calling myself every name under the sun. An odd mix of relief and disappointment struck me when I pulled into the airport’s lot.

Minutes…

We were down to minutes left together.

Because I was a fucking idiot who couldn’t make up his mind, I drove abnormally slowly, delaying the moment I’d reach the drop off area. But there was only so much I could do to extend my last few moments with her, and we arrived at our destination before I was ready to let her go.

A talk. We needed to have a talk, even though I wasn’t sure about what. Maybe—Maybe I could call on her next time I was in London. Maybe we could meet up then, and—

And what? Fuck some more? What purpose would it serve? This afternoon had only proven that it wasn’t it. It wasn’t enough, not what I truly wanted. Unless we were ready to commit to more, there was no point in meeting again. Even the fantastic, mind blowing sex wasn’t worth the risk. The more I’d see her, the harder it would become. No, a clean break was for the best. It would send us on our respective ways and reset everything, leaving us with nothing but memories.

It seemed she was of the same mind. The instant I cut the engine, she unbuckled her belt. Seconds later, she was making her way out of the car and into the cold night, not even granting me a glance. My hands tightened around the steering wheel when she slammed the door, and I fought the urge to throw my forehead onto it.

“Nå må du faen meg ta deg sammen,” I groaned to myself. Fucking get it together.

The boot opened behind me, so I gathered myself and exited the car as well. She was pulling her suitcase out when I joined her, and before I could assist, she settled it on the humid ground and deployed the telescopic handle.

For the first time since our shower together, she looked up to meet my eyes. Her face still bore the traces of our hours in my bed, but her expression contradicted it. She was closed off, almost aloof, even with her warm brown eyes planted into mine.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” she said, forcing a polite smile onto her face. It sounded rehearsed, so I guessed she had been thinking of what to say on our way here. “Please, thank Yuko as well. Tell her I’m sorry I didn’t get to see her one last time.” This, I could tell, was genuine. Yuko’s kindness and gentleness had won her over, just like it had for me so long ago.

Clearly uneasy, she fidgeted with the zipper of her computer bag, which hung on her shoulder.

“Did you get enough time to explore the reserve?”

She winced a little, scrunching her nose. “Everything but the glassed room. I’ll email you a list of all the pieces I’ll need for my exhibit when I’m done with the selection. Thank you again for allowing me to borrow from your collection.”

“A deal’s a deal, love.” The words escaped me before I realized their second meaning: our deal this afternoon and its unavoidable ending.

“Right… Well, thank you anyhow. I’ll have Haakon’s sword sent to you in January, as agreed.”

“Perfect.”

There wasn’t much that could be said beyond that, so an uncomfortable silence settled itself between us. The surrounding activity from the cars, cabs, and travelers wasn’t enough to distract us away from it, to lighten the tension.

I didn’t know what to do. Everything in me wanted to reach out to her and hold her tightly, to kiss her goodbye and wish her a safe return. But if I got a hold of her, there was no telling if I’d let her go.

She figured it out before I could, extending a professional hand toward me. “Thank you for everything, Ulrik.”

When I slipped my hand inside hers, those electric shivers tingled my palm and fingertips, spreading to my forearm. “It was my pleasure, Mila.”

Reluctantly, I released her once we were done shaking hands, swallowing away the words that wanted to crawl their way up my throat. This was for the best. It was what I had to do.

As soon as it was free, she promptly shoved her hand into the pocket of her warm jacket. “Good bye, then,” she said.

“Have a safe flight.”

She nodded, glancing up at me with another forced smile. Her very brief and discreet hesitation wasn’t lost on me, but whatever thought she’d had, she didn’t act on it. Instead, she grabbed the handle of her suitcase and turned to the airport’s entrance.

As I watched her slim silhouette walk away, I kept my feet planted on the wet asphalt, stopping them from going after her. I’d learned my lesson, and I didn’t need another reminder of why I couldn’t do relationships.

I stayed there until she disappeared behind the automatic doors, and then some more afterward. The fact that letting her go was so fucking hard was exactly the reason why I had to. Being so far gone in so little time was never a good sign. It could only get worse from there.

“Just walk away,” I mumbled to myself.

My body came through, doing what my mind couldn’t, and I ended up opening the door and entering the car again. The engine came to life with a push on the Start button, and after checking my mirrors, drove to pull out my spot.

But instead of that, I slammed my foot on the brake pedal, not even two seconds into it. The fuck was I doing?

Was I really that afraid of falling in love again? Was I so desperate to preserve myself that I’d throw away my chances with her ? Mila fucking Connelly, the historian extraordinaire who’d flipped my world upside down like only a handful of others had.

She could be worth it. More than anyone else, she could outweigh everything else. All I had to do was give in, stop fighting it, just let go…

Which I did.

Before another thought could form in my head, I turned the car off, grabbed the keys, and jumped out of the door. As I ran my way toward the airport’s entrance, an employee shouted at me that I couldn’t park there, but I ignored it. As soon as I entered the hall, I looked left and right like a maniac, looking for her. Even at this hour, the place was busy enough to make it hard for me to spot her navy blue jacket. With hastened steps, I walked toward the security gates, hoping with everything I had that I wasn’t too late.

Not too late to catch her before her plane took off, but too late for her to accept my stubborn ass. I was a fucking idiot, and she had every right to send me my way. God knew I deserved that after treating her so poorly.

I didn’t find her. She was nowhere between the entrance and the security check area. And from my elevated vantage point, I couldn’t have missed her. Had she passed the gates already?

When came closer, trying to see if I would spot her in the terminal, the security guy turned his attention to me. “Your boarding pass and ID, sir,” he asked in Norwegian.

“I don’t have one. I just need to get to someone who’s over there.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but you’ll need both those things.”

“Damn it.”

Looking around, I searched for the departures panel. Her plane’s boarding started in fifteen minutes, which meant I still had time to get on the other side of those metal detectors.

“I’ll be right back,” I told the man.

I pulled out my wallet from my pocket as I walked to the desks. Since I only had my ID card with me, I couldn’t purchase an international ticket. But domestic would do just fine. All I needed to do was to get on the other side of those damned gates. There were three people before me, and I fought the urge to negotiate a quick passage to the desk. This wasn’t some romantic movie, and I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself.

In this day and age, one would think purchasing a plane ticket or checking in on one would be an easy and quick task. It fucking was not. Five minutes went by until the first person was over with the airport clerk.

After all, maybe I should have done a grand show to explain that I needed to get a ticket right this instant, so I could run after a woman I’d let go. Like a moron.

I was honestly considering it, instead of questioning what the hell I was doing here, when her voice, confused and uncertain, came from behind me.

“Ulrik?”

Fuck! What do I say now?!

【58】Umpteenth Chance

Ulrik

My heart was hammering in my chest, so hard I actually wondered if I could be having a heart attack. She was right there. Not in the terminal, not boarding her plane… but right there behind me.

I couldn’t chicken out of this. Not again. She was too spectacular, and another man, more deserving than I was, would eventually win her over. I needed to get my shit together, and I needed to do it now .

Because I was so busy trying to think of what to say, too preoccupied by what she’d think, I forgot to turn around. “Has something happened?” she asked, with that damned sweet voice of hers.

Finally I turned, finding her standing a few steps away from me with her suitcase, holding an untouched bottle of water and some sort of academic magazine with a longship on the cover.

“I thought you’d gone through security already,” I said, my voice hoarse. Fuck, why was my throat so dry?

She shook the bottle in her hand. “I was thirsty, so I thought I’d get something first.”

Because I was still struggling to recompose myself and not moving, she stepped closer to me. She was really here. There was still a chance. Well, unless I blew it, which I was rather good at, it seemed. First, I needed that fucking lump in my throat to go away.

“Is everything okay?” she wondered again, her eyebrows getting closer to one another as her worries increased.

“Yes, I—” I cleared my throat, hating how pathetic I was. She intimidated me so much that I’d turned into a babbling coward. How could I even start with this? There was too much to atone for. I’d been a dickhead to her, as she’d called me many times now, and the little good I’d shown might not be enough. “I was thinking of how you didn’t get to see what was in the glassed room, and there are some really amazing pieces there. And—”

Hearing myself, I stopped talking at once. The fuck was I doing? This wasn’t the way. I needed to stop hiding behind pretenses and excuses. Time for me to open up and be honest, to earn her the right way.

“Would you stay with me a little longer, Mila?”

She was confused, her plum lips parted and slightly puckered, her eyebrows lowered on her lashes. “You want me to stay so I can get to the room I’ve missed?”

“No, I—Fuck.” My hand nervously flew to my hair, passing through it with frustration. Why was this so hard? I hadn’t done it in ages, and it felt new and nerve-racking all over again. But she was merciful, waiting for me to speak and find my words, rather than chastising me or urging me to get to the point.

When finally, my thoughts aligned, and sentences came to me, I met her eyes. “I want you to stay because the idea of you leaving is tearing me apart. I want you to stay because I can’t get enough of you and I haven’t felt like this for an eternity. I want you to stay, because if you get on that plane, I’ll fly to London first thing tomorrow morning, just so I can beg you to forgive me for being such a dense imbecile.”

Her shock was impossible to miss, and it betrayed just how low her expectations of me were. How could she not have realized yet that I burned for her? How could she doubt my affections, when I’d been so damn entranced by her from the start? I’d hidden it too well, it seemed. Well enough for her to need several seconds to process it all, to digest my words.

Still bewildered, her eyes fluttered, the line between her brows deepening. With uncertain eyes, she looked around, avoiding my gaze. While I hoped for the best, I braced for the worst. Why on earth would she stay after everything I’d put her through? She had every right to refuse me, and I would have to accept it.

When she’d finally sorted through her conflicting thoughts and emotions, she turned to me again.

“Only tomorrow morning?”

Her facetious question made me release a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Shaking my head, I chuckled, nervous and relieved altogether. She wasn’t too mad at me. Thank fuck.

But I wasn’t out of the woods just yet. Not with the wariness I could still read in her eyes.

“Just because I don’t have my passport with me, elskling . Otherwise, I’d board that plane right along with you and plead my case to you for the whole three hours.”

Yet again, my response surprised her. Still frowning, she sighed. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Yes, I realize. But I plan on getting better at not infuriating you.”

“Talk about a Sisyphean task…”

Even as pissed as she was, she still found a way to make me laugh. How could I ever think life would be better without her in it?

A short melody chimed in the vast hall, and a man spoke soon after to announce that Mila’s plane would start boarding soon, both in Norwegian and then in English. It tore a little chunk of my heart to see that she was hesitating, her eyes lost somewhere on the floor by her side as she pondered.

“Please, just give me a chance,” I said, hoping it would be enough.

“I’ve given you so many chances already. What tells me you won’t push me away again? That you won’t change your mind and hurt me for the umpteenth time?”

“Because I’ve finally accepted that I don’t have what it takes to let you go. I’m not strong enough to fight this.”

After a long moment of silence, she met my eyes again with her glistening ones. “Maybe it’s better if I go back to London tonight. Just to let things simmer for a bit. We can—We can talk about it in a few days, if you still want to. But right now, I just… Everything is so raw, my emotions are all over the place, and I can’t think straight.”

The idea of letting her go felt wrong, for so many reasons. If I gave her some time, a few days, to think things over, she’d unavoidably reach the conclusion that I wasn’t worth it. She’d realize a dickhead like me shouldn’t be worthy of her. I couldn’t let that happen, which might have made me a manipulative jerk, but fuck… If the alternative was losing her for good, I’d accept that label with open arms.

“Sir?” a feminine voice called behind me. I spun around, only to see that my turn at the desk was up. Shit, I hadn’t moved from the line, even though I didn’t need a ticket anymore.

My brain found a use for this, though, and as hope surged inside me again, I walked the few steps separating me from the clerk. “When’s the next flight to London?” I asked in our native language.

Following a quick nod, the middle-aged blonde typed something on her computer. “We have one leaving in thirty-seven minutes. The boarding will start in a moment, but you should be able to make it.”

“No, not this one. Is there another one later?”

She looked into her computer again, just as Mila was joining me by the counter.

“Ulrik, what are you doing?”

“I have one that leaves at eleven,” the airport agent offered.

Perfect!

“One moment,” I told the blonde. Turning to Mila, I fought against my desire to touch her, knowing I needed to give her the space she needed. “Give me two hours. We’ll just talk, nothing more. You can ask me anything, and I’ll answer it. By the end of it, you decide what you want to stay or leave. If you want to return to London, then I promise I won’t fight you. I’ll let you go.”

I’d never wished I could be in someone’s head as much as I did for the following few moments. As she considered my request, I would have given anything to catch even just one of those thoughts I could guess were bouncing all over her mind.

“I don’t think I can change my ticket again. Not so close to the departure.”

“It’s alright, I’ll buy you a new one.” Anything .

That wasn’t entirely enough to win over her reluctance. “You’ll answer my questions honestly?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll really let me go if I want to.”

“As hard as it will be, yes. I’ll let you go, sweetheart.”

She took her time thinking, scanning my eyes to gauge the truthfulness in them. The person behind us in line coughed—a forced, annoyed cough. Right… There I’d been, complaining about people taking forever at the desk, and we were taking longer than all of them.

After a quick, apologetic smile to the person, she turned toward the clerk. When she spoke to her, with flawless Norwegian, her words unleashed a long, alleviating shiver in my entire body. “Hi, I already have a ticket to London, which is supposedly changeable? I’m not sure it still applies, though.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Can I have your booking number?”

As they handled it, I stood there, so impossibly relieved I might burst. She would hear me out. For two hours, I’d get to talk to her, to win her trust back. Like she’d said, she’d given me many chances, and I’d blown them all off. This, I was certain, was my last one. It was a miracle that I even got to this point. An independent and strong-headed woman like her knew she didn’t need an asshole like me in her life. But for some ludicrous reason, she was willing to listen. One very last time.

Already, I tried to think of what I could tell her. One couldn’t bullshit his way into Mila Connelly’s good graces, and I didn’t want to do it like that, anyway. I’d have to be truthful and open, more than I had ever been with her, more than I had been in forever. If we were to build something real, she needed to know the real me. As much of it as she could handle, at least.

“Ulrik?” My name coming from her amazing voice would forever feel grand.

“Hmm?”

“It’s too late to change the ticket again. And the second plane lands in Heathrow instead of Gatwick, so it’s a bit pricier,” she explained with a slight grimace.

I quickly slipped my credit card out of my wallet, which I was still holding, and handed it to the blonde.

“I’ll see what the accountant at the museum can do to reimburse you,” Mila then said.

“No, don’t bother. Paying for it is the least I can do. I have a lot to atone for, after all.”

She raised an eyebrow at me, and the way she still didn’t fully trust my intentions was hard to swallow. I’d really been an absolute dick to her.

With her focus back on the clerk, she smiled sweetly. “While we’re at it, would you mind upgrading the ticket to first class, please?”

The blonde’s gaze went back and forth between the two of us, waiting for me to approve or refuse. But Mila’s temper was quite entertaining, so, wanting to see more of it, I didn’t come to the clerk’s aid. Christ, how I adored her saltiness…

“Oh no, don’t worry, it’s fine,” Mila insisted before I could say a thing. “He owes a lot more than three thousand kroner if he wants to make up for all his nonsense.”

Still a little wary, the woman gave me another hesitant look. I offered her a single nod, allowing her to proceed.

Once the ticket was booked, with the option of canceling it if needed, I was seven thousand kroner poorer, but more content than ever. Together, we walked away from the desk, heading toward an empty space nearby.

“What now?” she asked, slipping her new ticket into the front pocket of her computer bag.

“Well, we can go to the airport bar to grab a coffee. There’s a fast food place, too, I think.”

If we’d had more time, I would have taken her somewhere outside, with a more romantic atmosphere, something to charm her. The neon lights of the airport didn’t exactly scream “take me back.”

“Fuck,” I cursed, remembering the car.

“What?”

“I left the car in the drop off area. I just need to handle it before we settle somewhere.”

“Well, it’s not like you don’t usually do it,” she caustically pointed out, reminding me of when I’d picked her up here, nearly two weeks prior.

“I didn’t negotiate beforehand this time. Shit.”

“Let’s go check. If they are already towing it, maybe you can stop them by throwing wads of bills at them.”

As determined as ever, she grabbed her suitcase’s handle and left me standing there to head for the door. She didn’t even wait for me, walking with purpose. A silent chuckle shook my shoulders as I watched her walk for a moment with an incredulous grin. I’d almost let that witty little thing leave…

“Chop, chop,” she shouted, not turning back.

I swiftly trotted to her with long strides, a smirk lingering on my face. “I know you’re being all catty to keep me at bay, but it’s actually turning me on, so if you could stop…”

She tried so hard to hide her grin, but I still caught it, her profile brightening, her lips twitching.

The cold air outside gushed under my jacket as soon as we stepped out, snow still falling, dancing in the artificial light. My car hadn’t been towed, but a ticket was waiting for me, slipped under the wiper. Well, it was much better than I’d feared.

I was collecting the ticket when I realized Mila was by the boot. When I joined her there, she was holding her suitcase up, waiting for me to open the car.

“You want us to go?” I asked.

“We have two hours. Might as well go somewhere less… busy.”

God, I could kiss her… “The town nearby has an amazing pizza place, if that’s fine with you.”

“Yeah, perfect.”

I grabbed her luggage, making our hands touch maybe a little more than needed, and opened the boot. Once it was in there, she added her computer bag and magazine, keeping the water with her.

As she stood there, looking so gorgeous in the poor light, I looked at her with uncontainable wonder. She was here, instead of boarding her plane back home, and I couldn’t remember ever feeling this lucky.

The urge to grab her, kiss her, and let my adoration for her loose was strong, but I held it back. It was her mind that I needed to conquer, not her body. And until she’d made her decision, I had to surrender all the control to her. She had to be in charge, so she’d know she could trust me, so she could see just how hard I was trying.

But when she looked up at me with her almond eyes and long lashes, it became nearly impossible to resist. “May I kiss you?” I softly asked.

Her eyelashes fluttered, her lips parting with surprise. But she quickly got a hold of herself and scowled slightly with a shake of her head. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Ouch…

Her rebuttal was like a punch in the gut, but deserved. I had a lot of groveling to do before I could earn having my lips on hers again.

And by God, I’d do as much of it as needed.

【59】The Agony of It

Ulrik

The drive to Stjørdal was silent and full of tension, like our trip to the airport. But the atmosphere wasn’t charged with the same energy this time. Instead of gloomy regrets, it was now full of hopeful dreams.

We reached the place I had in mind within minutes, and I found a spot to park near it.

Walking side by side, we still didn’t exchange a word, all the way to the modest restaurant. It didn’t look like much, but it served the best pizzas this far north of Italy. The Sicilian family who owned it had brought their generations of knowledge with them, and one could taste it with every bite. Which was why I came relatively often, any time my busy flying schedule allowed a stop.

As soon as I entered, Giorgia, a sturdy middle-aged woman two feet smaller than me, opened her arms with a broad smile. “Benvenuto, signor Ulrik. Non ci vediamo da un po’!” We haven’t seen you in a while.

“Apologies, Gia, I’ve been rather busy lately,” I replied in Italian.

“It’s good to see you! We were starting to worry.”

“No need to worry for me, carissima . I’m just a very busy man.”

She only seemed to notice then that I wasn’t alone, and after a quick glimpse at Mila, she gave me a very approving look. “Are you here for a date, then?” she asked, still using her native tongue. I was thankful for it, because it meant Mila wouldn’t understand my reply.

“You could say that. I’ve wronged this lovely lady, and I need to win her back. I thought your husband’s cooking might help.”

“It will, caro . They say the way to a man’s heart is through their stomach, but it’s the same for women! Look at me,” she added with humor, grabbing her protruding stomach. “My husband’s been feeding me for thirty years, and I’m still there, no matter how annoying he is!”

I laughed low at her words, hoping she was right about that. If it was what it took to keep her, I’d feed Mila day and night.

“Right, let me settle you two,” she promptly said, having switched to Norwegian.

She grabbed some menus from her stand and invited us to enter the dining room. There were a few people there, as always, and we slalomed among them to follow Giorgia to a retreated corner. There wasn’t as much light over here, and I knew for a fact she called it the “Lovers’ spot.”

Mila sat before I could help with her chair, which frustrated and amused me. She wasn’t giving me any room to be a gentleman, making my task at charming her harder.

Georgia handed us our menus, as well as the wine one, and rested her hands on her wide hips. “Rosa will come in a bit to take your order,” she explained. Then, when our eyes met, she offered me a cheeky wink, as though to wish me luck.

Since I knew it well enough, I didn’t even check on my menu, already knowing what I’d get. Mila was much more interesting to look at. A shame she didn’t feel the same way, preferring the laminated pages instead.

“I didn’t know you spoke Italian,” she eventually said, not halting her exploration.

“A little bit, yes.”

“It sounded like more than a little bit. It seems you come here often?”

“At least a couple times a month, I’d say.”

“Hmm…”

As much as I wanted to give her space, I only had so long to win her back, and the seconds were ticking in the back of my head, as if I’d swallowed a clock. “So, Miss Connelly, what will be your first question?”

She fidgeted with the busted corner of her menu, her eyes obstinately locked on it rather than me. I never stopped looking at her, wishing she’d be comfortable enough to gaze back. But we’d get there. I just had to earn it.

“The most obvious one, I suppose,” she decided. “Why are you so scared of relationships?”

Well… She didn’t beat around the bush, did she? Straight to business, like the strong-headed woman she was. Since I’d promised her honesty, I took a moment to assemble my thoughts and find a way to put into words my reluctance to love others. I knew exactly why, but I had to make it make sense to her.

“I’m not scared of relationships. In fact, I’m splendid at relationships; I’ve had countless of those. So, before you assume that I’m disconnected with myself and emotionally constipated… It’s not that. I can love—I tend to do it deeply, actually. But I don’t let it happen by avoiding it like the plague.”

“Why?”

“Because throughout my life, everyone I’ve ever loved has had the bad habit of dying on me. And trust me when I say that outliving everyone you’ve ever truly cared about leaves a mark.”

I could tell she hadn’t expected this answer. How could she? I hadn’t given her much of myself, gatekeeping my emotions, granting her the tiniest peeks at what lay inside my thick skull. But my treatment of her wasn’t due to whatever shallow excuse she’d expected from me. It was born out of genuine trauma, not superficial fears. I’d refused to risk loving her because it was too painful. Not the love itself, but the agonizing emptiness it left behind.

“You mean your parents?” she asked, finally meeting my eyes to give me a look full of compassion.

“Losing my parents is part of it. But they aren’t the only ones; I’ve lost people who were dear to me. And I lost my wife, too.”

Of all the shocks I’d given her so far today, this was the biggest one yet. Her eyes went wide, her expression one of pure surprise. It was like dropping a small bomb on her, which I knew it would be. I never spoke of my late wife, and aside from Yuko, no one in my life even knew about her.

Mila was still processing that information, still struggling to grasp what it meant. As we sat there in silence, I questioned my decision, wondering if I hadn’t made a mistake mentioning this. Yes, I ought to open up and tell her things, but starting with big ones like this wasn’t very clever of me. Maybe my approach was a little too straightforward, but it was too late to take it back.

Well, now that the cat was out of the box, might as well make the best of it.

“We were young, idealists, and madly in love,” I explained, hoping it would help. “It was a long time ago. It’s almost like it happened in another life, somehow. Some days, it feels like the man that I was then never even existed.”

“What…What happened to her?”

I could read how troubled she was, but also genuinely curious and interested. She wasn’t taking it poorly, but still proceeded with caution.

“She got sick, and there was nothing anyone could do. God knows I tried it all.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through this, Ulrik,” she said with a compassionate smile. Her menu was down on the table, her entire attention on me now.

“It is what it is… I’m not hung up on her—this isn’t why I’m telling you about her. Thinking of her stopped hurting long ago. I just needed you to understand that I have learned what it’s like to lose someone, the agony of it, and that’s what compelled me to push you away. I don’t fear commitment or love, I fear loss.”

She nodded mindlessly, bobbing her pretty little head slowly with her eyes on an empty wine glass. “It’s bold of you to assume that you’d outlive me,” she noted with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “You’re like, ten years older than me, and as a woman, I have the advantage where lifespan is concerned.”

A deep laugh emerged from my chest. Per usual, her reaction was one I couldn’t have predicted. “Well, forgive my boldness, but so far, the odds haven’t been very good.”

She scrunched her nose, forced to admit I was right. When she picked up her menu, I thought the topic would be over with, but she had more questions—like a true historian. “How long were you married for?”

“In the grand scheme of things, we barely had any time together. But she still made an impact. It’s like a scar that has long healed. The scar is there, the reminder of it embedded in flesh. It remains ignored most of the time, but it exists. And every once in a while, something might bring up the memory behind it, the trauma that stemmed from it.”

“Did I bring back those memories?”

“With brutal vivacity, yes. But it wasn’t her that weighed on my mind. It was the anguish of experiencing all that pain with you.”

“I have no intention of dying, Ulrik.”

“That’s good to know.”

She pressed her lips together, trying to stay serious despite smiling. The moment was heavy, which I hadn’t intended. But I could understand why Mila would think so much of it. She was young, and things like these were meaningful.

“It’s—very weird of me to ask,” she hesitantly began, “but was she—was she amazing, and perfect, and everything you’d ever dreamed of?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does, because if she was all these things… I’m not sure I have what it takes to compete with the memories you have of her.”

Ah… I wasn’t used to Mila showing signs of weakness like this, to see her lack confidence in herself. Knowing I ought to thread carefully, I gave myself a second to think of my reply.

Rosa, the owners’ daughter, arrived at our table before I could, though. “Evening, guys,” she saluted us. “It’s been a while, Mr. Ulrik.”

“Yes, I’ve been busy.”

She was holding a bottle of wine and something to open it with. “Mama told me to bring you this bottle—on the house.”

“That’s very sweet of her,” I thanked her with a smile. While I normally would have argued that it wasn’t necessary, I didn’t. All I wanted was to return to Mila and her insecurities, but it would delay that. I would make sure to tip enough to cover the cost of the bottle, though.

Once Rosa had opened the wine, she poured some of its ruby content in my glass. I drank it and then nodded before the taste had even reached my brain. She filled our glasses, after which I told her we’d need a little longer to decide on what we wanted to eat.

“It’s not a competition, Mila,” I said with softness as soon as we were alone again. “You are you, and she was who she was. I’m not going to make comparisons, but I’ll say that I clearly have a type.”

“So, I remind you of her?”

“Yes, and no. She was strong, like you, and pigheaded too. And she didn’t take shit from anyone either. But she went through a difficult upbringing, which came with its own share of issues. She could be selfish, because she had to put herself first since she wasn’t used to anyone doing it for her. Your wittiness and humor are something she never had—she was always a little too serious for her own sake. You’re more… free, more independent.”

I stopped myself, realizing this wasn’t getting us anywhere. “But none of this matters because, once more, this isn’t a competition. It’s not about you or her. It was her, and now it’s you.”

Although she nodded, she was visibly still disconcerted. “May I ask her name?”

“Jasna.” The name, so familiar once, now felt foreign to my tongue.

Hopefully, Mila would believe me when I said it wasn’t a competition, or that my late wife wasn’t, in fact, any sort of obstacle. Jasna was far into my past, and if I had a say in it, Mila would be my whole future.

With a delicate hand, Mila grabbed her glass of wine and brought it to her lips. “I’m glad you told me,” she said after a long sip. “I won’t lie. It’s weird knowing that you were married before. But it would be even weirder not knowing, and then learning about it later on.”

Later on… The two words, thrown so meaninglessly, made my heart miss a couple of beats. It meant she was considering a “later.” The possibility of it wasn’t so ludicrous that she’d dismiss it altogether. There was hope, after all.

“Yeah, I thought you deserved to know,” I said, before drinking some wine.

“That you are, despite all appearances, husband material?”

She was hiding her crooked smile behind her glass. Her playfulness was a great sign, so I welcomed it. Decided to encourage it, even.

“That at some point in time, a woman was mad enough to accept being tied to me for life. And, believe it or not, she never regretted it.”

My attempt at humoring her failed, alas, and she turned serious again. Distractingly holding her glass, she stared at me, full of conflicting thoughts.

“I’m sure she didn’t, yeah…” she almost whispered.

For the first time since I’d convinced her to hear me out, I genuinely felt like I could succeed. I could win her over, after all. But I needed patience and a gentle touch. I also needed to bare myself to her and answer her worries.

But most of all, I needed the little time we had to be enough.

【60】Ask Away

What a turn of events…

I would never ever get over it. One second I was holding back my tears, trying my best to remain composed and ignore the ache in my chest, the next Ulrik was right there, begging me to stay.

Before that, I had been intent on letting him go, on getting into that plane and spending the next few weeks getting over him. I’d learned over time that someone couldn’t be forced into a relationship. It never worked out, and both parties were usually left off worse than before. So, swallowing back my desires, I’d committed to leaving him alone and not trying to make something happen.

But while I’d been under the crushing weight of my turmoils, he’d been having his very own doubts and questions. Enough to come after me in an airport, leaving his car behind and all.

Seeing him in line by the desk had been so unexpected, I’d thought I was imagining it. And then, hearing his heartfelt plea, I’d wondered if I hadn’t slipped and knocked my head at some point. Being out of consciousness somewhere was more plausible than Ulrik opening himself up as he had.

By now, though, I had accepted that all of this was true. I was, in fact, sitting with him in this quaint little restaurant, drinking this delicious wine, and genuinely enjoying his company.

And so far, he had answered my questions, seemingly honest and genuine in his answers.

The talk about his late wife had been difficult to hear, and in all truth, it had made me feel terrible about myself. Like an imbecile, I had assumed that his refusal to let himself care for someone came from a fear of commitment, an “alpha male” decision to never be stuck with one woman.

Never in a million years would I have imagined he’d endured so many great tragedies in his life. First his parents, and then his wife? No wonder he came with emotional baggage… Losing your beloved partner so early on had to be rough and leave traumas that were hard to overcome. And because I was an idiot, I’d just assumed he merely wanted to keep his options open, to keep swimming in pussy instead of committing to one.

In my defense, though, there was no way I could have ever guessed. Not with the very little information I had about him.

But I was getting more and more of those, and it was like drinking after a week stranded in the desert. Finally, my thirst for knowledge about this man was getting its fill. Or at least, it was on its way to get it.

The waitress had returned to our table, and because my mind was too scattered to think properly and inspect the items on the menu, I’d asked for Ulrik’s recommendation. According to him, I should try the speck and gorgonzola pizza, but most of all, I had to leave room for Nonna’s tiramisu.

I watched as he placed our order, wondering if he knew about his interlocutor’s crush. Rosa, who was fairly pretty and around my age, was obviously attracted to him. I’d spotted her when we’d first arrived, so I’d noticed how she had since let her hair down and spread a layer of gloss over her lips. But she was never hostile or rude to me, nor was she flirting with Ulrik, so I didn’t mind it. Especially since I held no claim about this man. Not yet, at least.

Honestly, I could only understand her infatuation. Anyone who was into men would be all over that . Especially when he spoke Italian—an ovary-bursting discovery I hadn’t recovered from yet.

Also, that black knitted turtleneck was getting to me hard. I was tempted to grab the small candle in the middle of the table and set his sweater on fire. But then, I’d be forced to stare at his tattoos, and that would be even worse for my resolve.

On his side, there was nothing but politeness for her, which, while being the bare minimum given his ongoing endeavor, was appreciated. Ulrik must have been used to women fanning over him, maybe to the point where it completely went over his head and he easily ignored it.

Once we were alone again, his attention returned to me, undivided and intense. “You’ll see, the pizza is…” he said, doing the Italian hand. His love for good food was amusing to me, almost like a little quirk he had.

“With a body like yours, no one could ever guess how much of a foodie you are.”

He shrugged his shoulders, dismissing the hidden compliment behind my words. “I have good genes and I enjoy exercising. Food is an easy pleasure in life, so why deprive myself of it?”

“It’s only easy when you have money,” I corrected him.

“Or when you live with a chef.”

I smiled at the mention of Gigi.

Oh, shit!

Straightening up at once, I looked for my phone in my jacket, which was hanging on the back of my chair. Once I found it, I quickly opened my chats with her. “Sorry,” I told Ulrik with a wince. “I forgot to warn Gigi about the change of plans.”

“Ah, right…”

Since it would be faster, I pressed on the voice message button, quickly coming up with what I should say. I spoke into the phone as low as I could. “Hey babe! My plane’s being delayed, so I’m not sure when exactly I’ll get home. Don’t wait for me. I’ll keep you posted.” While it was sending, I added a quick

ily

with a heart emoji.

With a sigh of relief, happy that I’d remembered, I settled the phone on the corner of the table. “Alright, all good.”

But when I met Ulrik’s gaze again, it wasn’t “all good.” Despite his attempt at hiding it, he was…sad, almost crushed. His mood switch made no sense until it suddenly did.

“I haven’t decided yet, Ulrik,” I told him with honesty. “I’d rather be sure when I tell Gigi I won’t be getting on that plane at all.”

He brightened up instantly, which told me I’d been right about his worries.

In all truth… My mind was eighty percent made up already. I’d always found him charming and hard to resist, even when he wasn’t trying to woo me. But now that he was? Christ, I would never be able to resist him. This opportunity to get to know him was too great to pass, though. And we had to work on the twenty percent of me that would rather call it a day and put an end to our messy relationship. It would be hard, but still easier than giving it a go and having to end things later on.

“I still have a few questions before I decide,” I continued.

“Ask away, darling.”

“If I were to stay… What would we become? What do you have in mind?”

“I’m not going to assume how things would evolve down the line, but for now, we would give it a go, get to know each other more, test our compatibility… Then, if it goes well and you wish the same, we would enter a monogamous relationship, built on trust and affection, where we could rely on one another. Partners in life, if you will.”

“Would it be public?”

“When you’re comfortable with it, yes.”

It just occurred to me what it would look like, were we to do this. People at the museum would assume that I’d spent weeks slacking off with my lover, instead of working as hard as I had. On a professional level, this looked bad for me. A little nobody like me, a simple historian, ending up with the museum’s biggest contributor? It was fishy, for sure. We were mismatched in so many ways… People would look down at me, think of me as a gold-digging opportunist.

“I would prefer if we could keep it private at first,” I explained.

“Then we will. But you need to know that in the long run, I won’t settle for a relationship in the shadows. I’m a very private person, so not having it plastered everywhere works for me, but I won’t be some secret that must be kept.”

“Yes, I can understand that.” I agreed with him on it, but before things were out, we needed to be sure. “How would it work, with you here and me on the other side of the North Sea?”

“Well, we’ll need to find a way to make things work. I’m not opposed to coming to London more often, and if your schedule allows it, you can come spend time in Norway. I might take residence in my flat in Oslo, as it’s a little closer and would make transits simpler.”

“You’d leave the Westergaard Estate?”

“If that’s what it takes, without hesitation.”

“I kind of like your place here,” I argued with a frown. I loved Oslo, but living in a megalopolis as I was, the serene air of the countryside was more appealing.

“Then I can stay here. I don’t mind either way, so you decide, Mila.”

Once more, it was disconcerting to see how compliant he was, so adamant to meet my every demand. I wasn’t used to that from him, and I didn’t know what to make of it. Just so I could have a little more time to think of what I could say, I took a long sip of my wine.

“Are you really willing to make any concessions?” I questioned.

“Not all of them, no. But you haven’t asked for anything I disagree on yet, so I haven’t had the chance to refuse.”

“I want an open relationship,” I tried, sensing it might be one of his hard limits.

But he was too clever for my mind games, easily figuring out my plan. “That’s perfect,” he agreed. “I’ll get to keep fucking anyone I want.”

The image was a painful one, so I scowled at him, perfectly aware that he’d merely returned my own jab. “I was serious when I said monogamous, Mila. I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

Heat bloomed between my legs, born from his possessive and authoritative tone. The idea that I might become his—which was fine as long as he became mine—was even more appealing than I had thought. Belonging to this man and owning him in return had to be one of the biggest privileges ever.

“You’re willing to share your collection with me.”

“I don’t like sharing what’s mine when it’s precious, then.”

Ugh, he had to stop being so damn charming. I was about to burst. I could still feel him in my core, our excesses from this afternoon lingering. It was insane to think I was actually making him work for it, even though I wanted nothing more than to give in and accept his apology.

“I’m that way too,” I admitted, once my mind was clear again. “I was only trying to get myself a refusal.”

“I gathered that much, yes. There isn’t much that I am not willing to do to make this work, but there’s some. Like separate rooms, seeing other people, keeping it a secret…”

Well, I agreed with those values so far. Our needs and expectations were quite aligned, it seemed.

“What’s behind the door in the reserve?” I asked, very glad to have thought of that one.

“You and that door… Why are you so obsessed?”

“Because I know you lied about it. It isn’t brooms and detergents.”

“What do you think it is, then?”

“I have no idea, which is why I’m asking. Whatever’s in there might be a deal breaker for me, and I need to know.”

“How about this: you tell me what would be a deal breaker for you, and I’ll let you know if you’re right or not.”

I opened my mouth to object, but changed my mind. This was the closest to an answer I’d ever had, so I wasn’t letting go of this opportunity. “Is it a sex dungeon, with floggers and cuffs and chains…”

“It’s not. Would that really be an issue, though?”

My everything warmed up, erotic images flashing before my eyes. Shit, he was right… It definitely would not repel me. “Are you secretly a serial killer, and it’s a tiled room with everything set up to be easily clean, so you never get caught?”

“Where do you get these ideas?” he asked with a frank laugh. “It’s nothing gruesome, illegal, or sexual.”

“Then what is it?” I said, almost whimpering with frustration.

“It’s… mementos of my past. That room is filled with things I’m not ready to let go of, things I keep with me to remember.”

Oh… Well, that was anticlimactic, but it made so much sense. Now that I knew more about him, it was understandable that he’d have his own secret garden, his safe space where he could reminisce and pay homage to the ones he’d lost.

“Neither of us are ready for you to enter this room, elskling ,” he continued. “But if you decide to stay with me, I promise that I’ll let you in there one day.”

Fair enough. While demanding that we didn’t keep secrets from one another was reasonable, I couldn’t refuse him all forms of privacy. He was entitled to his past, and as long as it didn’t affect our potential present together, I ought to accept it.

“So, you really aren’t a serial killer?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I didn’t say that.”

It was my turn to laugh softly. A comfortable silence settled between us, and I listened to the surrounding hubbub for a few moments. Today had been draining in every possible way. And it wasn’t over yet, with a little more craziness on the horizon.

Had he not come after me, I’d be on my plane by now, already in the air and on my way home.

【61】Nerve-Racking

“What made you change your mind?” I asked, meeting his amazing eyes.

“I don’t even know. One moment I was forcing myself to leave, and the next I was rushing into the airport. Sense just struck me like lightning. It’s as if I could endure the idea of losing you, up until the very point where it was happening. It became unbearable, and I realized the momentous mistake I was about to make.”

“I’m not that much of a catch,” I felt compelled to counter, troubled by the devotion in his tone. “In fact, I’m far from being perfect.”

“Well, I’m not perfect either.”

“Yes, we have established that—in great lengths.”

He laughed again, and I decided right then and there that it was the best sound in the world. “This. This is what matters,” he said with a grin from ear to ear, pointing my way. “It’s not about fitting some pre-constructed idea of what perfection is. It’s all in the eye of the beholder. And as always, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

“Are you calling me trash?” I asked, pretending to be appalled.

“In my eyes, you’re certainly a treasure, skatt. “

The wordplay got to me, making me bite my lower lip. That clever tongue of his would be my doom…

“I’ve not been doing very good so far, have I?” he frustratedly let out, scolding himself internally.

“You’ve been doing… adequately,” I said, attempting to reassure him.

He was exposing himself to me, opening his soul up for me to gauge and judge. It ought to be terribly intimidating, and yet he was willing to go through it. In all truth, he was doing great. At least compared to the man he’d been before, the closed up enigma who refused to let me in, he was doing splendidly.

“I can’t recall the last time I was this nervous,” he confessed. “I even have sweaty palms, for God’s sake…”

His hands turned on the table so he could open them, palms up. I didn’t even think before reaching out, wanting to check if it was true. When my fingers grazed the rough skin inside his hand, tiny sparks tickled my fingertips. It was a little sweaty, yes, but I barely paid attention to that. Instead, I looked up at him, fighting the urge to press my hand into his. Everything had always felt so right with him, but also so wrong.

Earlier this afternoon, I’d felt more free in his arms than ever before. I’d felt like myself, like I was home, like I’d found where I belonged. But while our bodies were perfectly in tune with one another, our personalities struggled to harmonize. Would that change, though, if his intentions were now different? Would we butt heads again? This internal tug-of-war he’d been fighting the whole time… Had it truly come to an end, or would it return eventually?

My gaze fell back to our hands, where his fingers were now softly caressing my palm from beneath. I longed for this man like I’d never longed for anything else in my life. But the pain he’d inflicted couldn’t be so easily dismissed.

I was lost in the moment, lost in his eyes again, when Rosa suddenly appeared by our sides, holding two large plates with fuming pizzas on them. My hand whipped back to my side of the table, embarrassed by the weakness I’d just displayed. Even for him, it was unfair to give him the wrong signals. Not when I wasn’t entirely sure of what I wanted yet.

He also removed his hand, fisting the one I’d touched for a brief instant, before turning his attention to the newcomer. Oblivious to what she’d just interrupted, she settled our plates in front of us, wished us a buon appetito , and then left again.

The pizzas were particularly appetizing, especially mine, with fresh arugula and crushed walnuts. And its aroma… it nearly sent me to heaven. I hadn’t even realized how hungry I was, too distracted by his company. It came at a perfect time, since I needed a moment of quiet so I could recenter my mind. Once I’d cut myself a slice and eaten it, I felt ready to continue my interrogation.

“If I decide to stay and things get more serious, would you be willing to move to England for good?”

His reluctance wasn’t missed on me, his face grimacing with disapproval for a brief second. “It’s something we’d have to discuss. I’m not opposed to it, but I’m too attached to my heritage to leave altogether.”

“I’m not leaving my job at the museum, Ulrik.”

“I realize that. But there are museums here too, with Viking collections ten times as big as the one you’re currently dealing with. You could find a job even more rewarding than the one you have now. You could join digs, academic research, university positions… Like I said, it’s something we’ll have to discuss when the time comes. But I’m willing to make compromises if need be.”

He kept giving me perfect answers, which almost made me doubt their sincerity. Somehow, he’d done a complete one-eighty and had gone from being a dickhead to being sensible and considerate. The duality of him now made sense. He had been this perfect man all along, but he’d tainted it by building a facade of assholery, hadn’t he?

“What would we do about Yuko? Would she know?” I wondered after I’d swallowed a mouthful of cheesy perfection.

“We could try being discreet about it, but that would only work for so long. That woman doesn’t miss anything, so she’d guess soon enough.”

“That’s what I feared… She’s been rooting for it to happen so much, she’d pick up on the smallest clues.”

“She has spoken to you, too?”

“Oh, yeah… She always advocated in your favor, even when you were being a complete jerk.”

Being reminded of his past actions made him wince. “Well, she’s been calling me a baka a lot lately.”

“What does it mean?”

“Depending on the context, that I’m an idiot or a fool.”

I giggled, my love for Yuko growing a little more. “This woman is full of wisdom, isn’t she?”

“It comes with age,” he agreed with a self-deprecating grin.

For the reminder of our dinner together, his flawless attitude never wavered. I had to force myself to think back on all the ways he’d hurt me, since it was so hard to remember. The man in front of me couldn’t possibly be the same one who’d blown me off so cruelly, the one who’d made me cry more times than I was comfortable admitting.

But it was the same man, and for some reason, it all made sense. He made it make sense.

At some point, he checked on his watch, frowning as he read the time. I grabbed my phone, curious as well, and noticed Gigi had replied to me. Forgetting about the hour, I opened my messages with her instead.

Another delay?! Sweets, are you secretly having so much fun in Norway that you just refuse to come back home?

And then, five minutes later,

Stop ignoring me. I need attention, and your cats are not giving me any

. Another ten minutes went by, and she’d sent,

Nvm, Vick just arrived.

“We need to speed things up a bit,” Ulrik explained out of the blue. “Or you might miss your plane.”

My heart tightened at his last words, and I was confident his did too, given his somber mood. I had yet to make a final decision, even though the balance was tipping in his favor. By a lot .

He signaled the waitress, who was quickly with us. Despite his advice, I had no room left for dessert. I insisted it was fine, but Ulrik refused to let me miss out on the best tiramisu I would ever eat. So, upon his insistence, I agreed to take one to-go.

Rosa’s grandma, the cook’s mother, made it from scratch daily, Ulrik explained to me. He also added that, as a coffee lover, the experience would be life-altering.

The check arrived quickly, and without even looking at it, he threw a generous bundle of bills on the little plate that came with it. Rosa had also brought a clear to-go box with a generous serve of tiramisu, which she handed me with a smile.

My legs shook a little as I stood, pressure slowly building up on my shoulders. That was it. We were reaching the end of the time he’d demanded, and I would have to choose. My decision, no matter what, would influence the rest of my life. It was one of those critical moments, a pivot of sorts, where a simple yes or no would change it all.

It was nerve-racking.

For him as well, it seemed, since he had grown tense all over, his gestures sharp and almost robotic. Before I could handle it myself, he helped me with my jacket. The way his hands gently squeezed my shoulders, like a final, silent plea, made me close my eyes tightly. My heart was racing, my mind overflowing.

What should I do? Stay and give him, us , a chance? Risk my sanity over what he might do in the future? Or Should I go back home, take some time to heal, and forget him? Then maybe one day, I’d meet the right guy, one who would never emotionally torture me, one who would never be so damn complicated. But could anyone be as magnificent as Ulrik fucking Westergaard?

The walk back to the car unfolded in dead silence. I held on to the tiramisu in front of me, doing my best to sort through my emotions. Why was this so difficult? My mind and my heart refused to cooperate, and it was hard to pick one.

I kept peeking at him, hoping it would strike me at once like it had for him. The night was particularly cold, and the snow was still falling in large flakes. He didn’t have a coat or even a jacket with him, but it didn’t seem to bother him. For a Norwegian like him, this wasn’t quite cold yet. He was dashing in his dark jeans and wooly turtleneck, and part of me knew most women would give a kidney to be in the position I was in. Hell, they would have taken him back at the airport, not needing him to grovel for it.

Like a proper gentleman, he opened the door for me. I offered him a timid smile as I climbed into the SUV. The few seconds that I got alone, from the moment he closed my door and came through his, didn’t help me one bit. And being in the confined space with him only added to my disarray.

Still silent, he started the car.

Seconds passed, three, five, ten… And eventually, he spoke, his voice crushingly vulnerable.

“So, where to, Mila?”

I forced myself to turn his way, and the hope, the plea that I read in his eyes wrecked me. Just then, staring into his soul, reading his deepest desires and dreams, I knew what I wanted. In fact, I’d known for a while—since before the pizzas had arrived.

Deep down, I’d always known.

“Drive me to the airport,” I asked, my voice so small I worried he might not have heard me.

But given the way his face crumbled with defeat, it became clear he had.

---

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