Page 46 of The Art of Obsession

Sometimes, I find myself tracing the wax lacework. But much has begun to dry and fleck. It leaves behind reddened lines.

“How did you do all of this?” I finally ask, gesturing to the room before he slowly, tenderly offers me an oyster from a half-shell.

Wincing at first, I take a deep breath and part my lips, accepting the aphrodisiac and swallowing. I taste the aftermath of the salt and oil, sighing in appreciation. It reminds me of the oysters I tried along the French Quarter in New Orleans when my boss commissioned me for an abandoned chateau in the bayou.

Oh, god. My boss! How could I have forgotten?

Before I can ask, Acheron nuzzles his nose along my cheek. “I spared no expense. As you mentioned before, I am very well-connected. And I wished you to be comfortable, more than comfortable. I wished for you to beenamored.”

Mission accomplished!Cherry and I say in tandem. It happens sometimes.

I won’t let my defiance keep me from eating. It’s such a cliche to refuse to eat or throw the food in my tormentor’s face.

Oh sure, deny your feelings, but don’t deny yourself that third dark chocolate-covered strawberry. Priorities, babe.

I facepalm her.

She huffs, blowing a raspberry.Rude much?

I sample strawberry bruschetta with basil, followed by the salmon pesto pasta.

You’re chewing like you’re trying to drown out the sound of your feelings. Spoiler alert: it’s not working.

Ugh. I shove her into a closet in my mind with her laughing the whole time.

“Acheron…I was supposed to be on my next assignment…” I lower my chin, regret washing over me.

He clears his throat and then produces a holographic image, a subtle ringing. He’s calling my boss?!

Tilting his head, Acheron opens his teeth on my jaw and coos, “Make it sound good, Little Quill. Or there will be consequences. I know you don’t wish the payments to your parents’ living accommodations to end.”

My heart clenches, but I barely get a chance to stiffen before the familiar voice says, “Hello, Elliot Carlysle here.”

“Um…hi, Elliot. It’s Everleigh.”

“Everleigh!” he exclaims, so loud, I have to clap one hand over my ears. “My dear, how could you not tell me?”

“Tell you?” I flick my eyes to Acheron’s, noting the amused glint in those tinted pupils.

“The internationally renowned artist, Acheron himself, privately commissionedyoufor a series of historical artifacts he intends for auction. He’s also pledged to donate a significantamount to the Smithsonian.” He lilts enthusiastically. “I am so proud of you, Everleigh. And he could not have chosen a more suitable historian. While I will miss having you for the next six months, I’m certain your time will be worth its weight in gold! I look forward to your progress…and what finds you will research and catalog. So proud, Evie. So proud…”

I can’t deny the rush of warmth in my chest at Elliot’s words. I manage to nod my gratitude, assuring him I will connect soon. But once the call is done, two words are all I can think about. Six months. Six months trapped here.

Swallowing the hard knot and remembering his other words, I turn to eye Acheron and ask, “Is it true? Will I actually be cataloging things? Researching?”

He cups my chin, rubs his lips against mine, strengthening the warm flutter inside me. “Of course, Little Quill. I would not dream of imprisoning you here without something to do. Your curiosity was already heightened. I will seduce that curiosity more.”

My nerve endings thrill at such a project. Normally, I know what I’m going into. I have a site in advance. But Acheron…he’sastonishedme. The thought of poring through those antique books and researching every other item in this room…it tantalizes me.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve spent an exorbitant amount of time in one location.

Once Acheron lowers his fingers from my chin, I help myself to the dark chocolate cake with raspberry sauce. My cheeks grow hotter, and I swear he can smell my pheromones.

“Tell me, again for research purposes, what do you look forward to cataloging most?”

I contemplate his question while helping myself to the stuffed lobster. “Probably the writing desk and then all the books.”

“If you were unaware, I left a plume quill on the desk for your convenience.”