by Angela Foxxe
Gabriel stood in front of her, waiting for her to move. “You alright there?”
She nodded and took his hand, holding it for the first time. His hand was a bit cold, she noticed. It must’ve been because of tonight’s low temperature…
She walked in and took a breath. The place was well-decorated, minimally so, but it was beautiful. There were heavy black curtains, and large windows all over the place.
“Mr. Ramsey, welcome back,” a server greeted him, “this way please.”
Had he brought other women here before? They had a table reserved across a wooden finish wall, with a unique chandelier above them. She stared at it for a moment, before realizing that he was waiting for her to sit so he could move the chair for her. She dutifully sat down.
“Sorry, I feel like such an ignoramus,” she admitted. “This is my first Michelin star rated dining experience.”
He smiled at her. “Order anything you want.”
She shook her head, feeling flustered. “Please, order for me.”
And he did. The four course meal was a delight to the senses. Different tastes mingled in her mouth, all pleasant. He also ordered white wine, and she dared not know about the price tag. Money apparently, wasn’t a concern.
“Do you always come here?” she asked him.
“Not really.”
“On special occasions?”
“Like this?” he smiled, showing a set of nearly even white teeth, except for his incisors that looked like cute little fangs.
She shook her head and gave an embarrassed, tiny smile. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, this is a date. Don’t let your introversion get the best of you.”
“How did you know-?”
“I’ve been around long enough to know,” he said in a cryptic manner. “Tell me more about yourself.”
She took a breath. “I think you already know about me. I was a bit talkative the other day, surprisingly.”
“Well, I’m sure there are things I still don’t know about you. Like, are you an only child?”
She nodded. “I am. I wish I had siblings.”
Me too. “Why are you here for an internship? America’s got loads of great museums.”
“You’ve been in them?”
He shook his head. “I’ve never been to America. All over Europe, yes. South America, yes. Asia, yes. America, never.”
“I hope no American beat the hell out of you.”
“No, I don’t think I’d allow my Union Jack pride to be crushed in a fist fight. America just hasn’t interested me much. So why are you here on an internship again?”
“I earned it,” she said impishly.
“An overachiever, are you?”
“I just liked what I studied and practiced. A lot.”
“With honors?”
She nodded, seemingly shy. “A few.”
She’d graduated with honors from high school despite losing her parents at a young age, and was set to graduate with honors as soon as she ended her internship. It wasn’t that she studied like crazy, she just retained information and enjoyed practicing her craft. She had been a painter, like her grandmother (her father’s side), so it was a fusion of art and history that led her into archaeology and conservation.
He had researched about her a little. Just a little. She had been featured in a few scholarly magazines, almost always mentioning her father and mother’s achievements before their untimely passing. She was about to be a trail blazer in the archaeological and conservation world herself, and she probably didn’t even realize it yet.
“So art conservation is painting over old stuff?” he asked.
“In a way it is. It’s more than that, though. There’s so much detail and care. You have to check these artifacts, too, which will take weeks or months before you can begin to reconstruct or repaint over them.”
“I’m a little bit into art conservation.”
Her eyes brightened as soon as she put down her glass of wine. “How so?”
“I have a habit of funding for repairs. I like collecting old houses, well, saving them would be the better word.”
“For someone who belongs in the modern world, you actually like creepy, abandoned homes?”
He shrugged. “Well, I guess I have an old soul.” Far older than you’d ever think. “I don’t want to see relics go to waste. Even if they’re just houses.”
“And that’s it? You save houses and never live in them?”
“Well, the British government takes care of it. Some serve as museums; others buy it the moment they realize it’s actually been a beautiful property all along.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the guy the news mentioned a week ago or so.”
“Which property?”
“Somewhere off of Worcestershire.”
“Oh yes, I personally funded that.”
“Wow,” was all she said, remembering the news giving a pretty large sum for those renovations.
“Why is it wow? It’s a hobby of sorts.”
“It’s ostentatious. For a hobby. Well, not that I’m judging you, but…wow.”
He laughed after sipping his wine. “It isn’t always about the money. Although, I’m grateful to have been born into this family name. It’s a good distraction.”
He recalled his mother had loved their manor so much, and it had taken root in him. Every time he restored a manse, he put things his mother would have enjoyed, maybe some old school wallpaper, maybe a rug or carpet, maybe a chandelier that reminded him of his old home.
“I hope I don’t come across as conceited,” he told her, “although I do want to impress you as best as I can.”
“The mere mention of conservation has already impressed me.”
“Great. It has gone according to plan.”
She laughed, a laugh that was candid and easy, a laugh that almost sounded like Lily… he blinked and focused on the woman in front of him. He had to see if the gemstone was with her. He still couldn’t shake off the idea that it was the same pocket watch lost many years ago.
“Can I visit you at work?” he asked.
“The museum is open from 10 in the morning until 5:30 in the afternoon.”
His brow rose. “You know what I mean.”
“It’s work. I don’t know if you can. Classified stuff.”
“Nothing like the MI6 would like to know about, right?”
“Nothing like that.”
“Great.”
“But you don’t work there,” she began.
“I’ve contributed heavily to the museum,” he finished. “Well, me and the companies my family owns.”
“What?”
Gabriel smiled impishly. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”
“It’s almost like you own everything that’s old in England or something. Seriously?”
He nodded. “My family’s foundation. We’ve been patrons of the arts since the 1800s.”
“Damn,” she murmured, feeling embarrassed. Here she was, talking to some silent multi-millionaire (or most likely billionaire). He was almost like her boss. He probably funded their excavations and exhibits.
“Please don’t think different of me.”
“I don’t think we should be even having dinner together.”
“No, no, please don’t say that. I really wanted to get to know you better in the most respectable way possible.”
“We’re – well, you shouldn’t be seen with me.”
“I’m not a rock star, nor am I in succession for the British throne,” he reasoned. “I’d like to be honest with you. I haven’t gone on a date in quite a while. Seeing you made me change my mind.”
Her eyes narrowed, weighing the sincerity of his words. “How many women have you taken here?” she didn’t care that she sounded quite abrasive now.
He blinked, surprised at her question. “You’re the first.”
“How can I be the first?” she whispered, “with your looks and charm
--”
“Glad to know you think I’m attractive.”
Isla frowned, her cheeks reddening. Ah, that blood rush to her face made her seem more human than ever, made her seem like Lily who almost always blushed whenever she thought she’d said something too forward.
“Well,” she flustered, “I think you know it.”
“If I did, would you have seen me any differently?”
“I’d stay away.”
“Then I’m glad I’m not that kind of man.”
“Sorry, I can’t help but think this is all too weird. Too… nice of you.”
“I think you think I’m after something,” Gabriel surmised.
“No, it’s not what you think,” her face blushed some more, although she did think about it a few hours ago. Intimacy was something she wasn’t too well versed with and she had wondered if he was.
“So, can I see you at work? I’d like to look at your work.”
“Don’t you have your own work to attend to?” She thought she sounded silly. He was too rich to even work, right?
“I can spare a few hours. Besides, I usually go there past three, after the morning bedlam.”
“I’ll have to ask my superiors…” her voice faltered. The idea of him looking over her shoulder while she worked was beginning to get unbearable.
“I’ll ask them myself.”
It was nearly ten in the evening when he drove her back to her flat. He opened the car door for her again, much to her embarrassment.
“Forgive me, I’m a little old school,” he admitted as he held out his hand to help her out.
Isla took it, his hand still a bit chilly, or maybe her hand was just plain warm, flushed with excitement from her first actual date in years.
“I enjoyed tonight,” she said, mustering the courage to say it.
“So did I. Sleep well,” and he kissed her hand lightly.
Her eyes widened and she felt her cheeks burn again. She was glad the lights on the streets weren’t glaringly bright. He waited for her to open the main door before he started his car. She gave a feeble wave and he waved in return then left. Isla walked up to her flat with a broad smile on her face, a smile only she could know about.
Gabriel drove away, wondering if he was pitting Isla against the memory of Lily. It wasn’t fair, right? Isla was her own person, who just so happened to look startlingly like Lily, the woman he had loved and killed. He couldn’t wait to see Isla again, though. He could see how she worked, and perhaps check if the watch she had mentioned was indeed Lily’s.
It had been a fairly interesting night, and he saw how Isla was, a human who was self-assured and unpretentious. Psychological or physical, whenever he felt warmth, he would latch onto it. Even an open fire wouldn’t make him feel that kind of warmth. It did kill him and his kind, though, and it burned even more painfully if it came from something with silver. It was important to him; a human who exhibited those traits made him feel a certain warmth he couldn’t really have.
He returned home, driving slow, pausing to stop in front of Highgate cemetery’s gates. He didn’t need to get in, he felt quite relaxed.
All in all, he could say he wanted to see her again…
CHAPTER FIVE
There were two large flat monitors in front of her; she was searching for watchmakers from the 1850s, until the early 1900s. She also had a stack of books. Isla hadn’t told her superiors or colleagues about the stone she had found in it, nor did she note it down.
It had to be something of significant value, whether sentimental or not. She didn’t want to call in a gemologist yet, wanting to discover it for herself. Isla worked under the pretense of the dress buttons they had found. She had found three buttons, two of which came from one dress or shirt. She couldn’t quite trace the other button. She spent the earlier part of the day partially studying Victorian dress patterns and styles whenever Ravi, Greg or Sarah came in.
“Anything on the watch yet?” Ravi asked her before lunch.
She shook her head. “Work in progress.”
“We’re eating out for lunch, and you need to get food into your system.”
“Let me just finish this.”
“You just might be the first to die of starvation, working in a museum,” Rory butted in.
Ravi shook his head. “Don’t let this fellow stop you from eating lunch with us,” he said, his voice dropping into a whisper.
Isla sniggered.
“You’d better stop annoying her,” Ravi told Rory.
“I’m not. I’m just being nice.”
“Creepy, you’re being creepy,” Ravi insisted. “Shall we bring you lunch?”
She nodded. “Whatever you’re having, Ravi.”
It wasn’t that Isla avoided company, but every time she held onto the watch, it was as if she didn’t want to let go, or stop working at least. And what was supposed to be plain work now had become an obsession for her. She waved them goodbye and waited until she heard their talk fade away.
She smiled and shook her head, staring at the drawer for a full minute. Should she take it out now? Now was the perfect time. So she could hold onto it again, it held some strange sort of unseen power for her. Then she took a breath and just as she was about to hold onto the drawer handle, someone came in.
“You paint a pretty picture in a lab coat,” he said calmly.
The sound of his voice almost sent shivers down her spine, almost. He stood by the door wearing dark jeans, a button down shirt with folded long sleeves, and there was an ‘employee only’ ID hanging on his neck. He looked like a hot archaeologist, looking for his next big discovery. That certainly wouldn’t be her, right?
“How did you--”
“Rank has its privileges.”
“Downright abuse, if you ask me.”
“It means I get to see you while you’re working.”
Her cheeks were splayed with pink. “Do you really have to? There’s nothing of interest here. It’s just old stuff.”
“Stuff that I’ve had a penchant for. Remember, I like restoring old houses?”
“It isn’t you. You just bring in the necessary funding.”
“Still an interest,” he told her, striding closer to her. “So, what are you working on?”
“Buttons,” she quickly said.
He grabbed a seat and put it across from her. It made her feel awkward, like she didn’t know how to use her instruments any more.
“Does it have to be sort of sterile?” he asked her, leaning in closer.
She nodded. “For some items, it has to be. But these are just buttons. Gloves will do. And as long as I don’t put any of my DNA on this.”
“So you have all these magnifying lenses to find out the make of the buttons?”
She smiled a little. “You could say that.”
“I’ve never been inside a lab like this before, even though we’ve been funding the museum for a while now.”
“So you can pull in favors whenever you feel like it.”
“I’ve only used it today,” he grinned.
“Surprising.”
“Why?”
“You’re so charming, even men will follow your lead.”
He laughed aloud. “It wasn’t so years ago. Although I did paint the town red in my younger days.”
She looked at him quizzically. “You’re not that old.”
“I’m not. Just an expression. Let’s just say years ago, I used to be quite irresponsible.”
“How irresponsible?”
“I didn’t care for the havoc I wreaked.” He chose his words carefully. “But I’m glad I got over that phase in my life.”
“What phase are you in on now? Restoring old homes?”
“I’m into this Isla Morgan phase.”
“A what?” she laughed a short laugh, then turned serious. “What did you just say?”
“I’d like to kiss you.”
“Seriously--”
“You heard me,” he said, walking close to h
er.
She backed away but he took another step, closing in the gap. She looked at his eyes and saw something so briefly menacing that it almost scared her. It was his warm smile that rooted her in place. She couldn’t move away from it.
He held her face with both hands, staring into her grey eyes. And he took her mouth onto his, his tongue explored her lips slowly, sensually. He licked and bit her lower lip softy and she let out a quiet gasp. It was an open invitation and then he felt her tongue mating with his.
Isla’s initial hesitancy had begun to fade away. Her face and body began to feel warm, such a delicious warmth – he wouldn’t wait to have more. His hands moved down from her face to her neck; her breathing quickened and her breasts heaved against the lab coat she was wearing. He slowly began to fumble on her shirt, unbuttoning it.
She was responding faster now; her tongue fervently intertwined with his. As he continued kissing her, his hand found her brassiere. He couldn’t contain his excitement, seeing the simple grey lace she wore underneath that lacklustre uniform. Without warning, he hoisted her up to a wooden table, sweeping away her paperwork carelessly. The papers fluttered to the floor.
He kissed her again and held one breast and squeezed it softly; Isla let out a low moan. He pulled the bra down and found one nipple already taut. He squeezed it harder this time, and she gasped, a gasp cut short as he began to lick her left breast.
She found it was impossible to keep herself form moaning. She hadn’t been touched like this, ever. It seemed as if he wanted to possess her; wanted every inch of her body to be as close to his as possible. His eyes had grown dark as she trailed hot kisses down his neck. He could feel her blood rushing all over her body. Her pulse raced and Gabriel closed his eyes, allowing himself to surrender to his urge.
She nearly thrashed, but he held both of her arms down with one hand, dragging her bra down to her waist. He sucked on her exposed breasts and she writhed beneath him. His hand slowly reached down for her, all the way down. She gave a loud gasp, feeling his fingers play with the folds of her sex. Her panting was getting louder, even if she tried to stop herself.
“Shh…” he whispered into her ear. She was wet and eager, as eager as he was. He watched her as she closed her eyes, pleasure stealing through her.
