I didn’t think it smart to admit that the words had been Henry Thornhill but the actions had been unabashedly mine. Stroking the smooth skin of her back, pressing my lips to her temple. My partner was in distress, and my first instinct was to soothe.
“No thanks necessary,” I replied. “I’m being taught by the best.”
Delilah turned away from me, like she was hiding a blush. “I didn’t teach you French or how to get a wealthy heiress to become enchanted with you. Or how to look impossibly handsome in a suit.”
“You think I look handsome in a suit?” I teased, almost unbearably pleased with her honesty.
“Victoria does,” she corrected. But she was still blushing—a deep pink was spreading up her throat.
“You make a very convincing fake wife, Delilah,” I said.
“And you’re a very convincing fake husband,” she replied. “And we haven’t even finished fighting over the fact that you forgot to take the garbage out again.”
I laughed—and she revealed a big, silly smile I hadn’t seen before.
“Everything that happened tonight,” I said, “you felt comfortable with? The touching? The…words?”
“Of course,” she said firmly. “We’re undercover. It’s like being an actor in a movie. I know you’re playing a role.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s it exactly.”
In the quiet of the empty office, my words came out sounding forced. There was a space—a momentary pause—where I thought Delilah was going to say something. But our phones chirped with a text from Freya.
Victoria is being honored tomorrow by the Bristol Foundation as Philanthropist of the Year. VIP event. Very fancy. Rooftop. Bust out your cocktail attire.
17
Delilah
“I love the city skyline this time of night,” Henry said, strolling up to me with a glass of wine.
The look of Henry Finch in a light gray suit—I was learning—caused a visceral reaction best ignored. Instead, I placed my elbows on the bar and watched the pink-orange rays of light glimmer through the skyscrapers. “Even though it’s still spring, it reminds me of long summer days as a kid. The way your days felt like forever.”
I watched the audience milling around us for a moment, searching for Victoria. But she was nowhere to be seen as of yet. I exhaled, tasted the crisp white wine on my tongue. Turned my body toward my fake husband, debonair in the coral twilight.
“You’re from Philly, aren’t you?” I asked.
He nodded, smiled. “It was an added bonus when Abe offered me the job. My parents live by Rittenhouse Square right over…there.” He pointed in the direction of the famous park. “They’re both tenured professors at Penn.”
“A genius family. Makes sense, Mr. Librarian.”
“We read constantly,” he said, staring down into his glass. “During meals. While cooking meals. On the weekends and every night. Every spare moment when I wasn’t sleeping. My parents had me arguing philosophical theory with them by middle school.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Really, though?”
His smile was almost sheepish. “Not well. But I tried.” He glanced back toward the park, slipping one hand into his pocket. “I actually have younger twin siblings. Joelle and Jeremiah. They co-own an organic coffee shop out in West Philly that also functions as a studio space for artists.”
My eyebrows shot up.
“They’re not brainy, like my parents and I. But they did force us to look up from our books. Dragged us to concerts or movies or anything fun and outrageous. I always wanted to be more like them.”
“Like how?” I asked.
“Charismatic,” he replied.
Behind us, a trio of finely dressed women was staring at Henry and pointing. Two of them giggled while one blushed.
“I don’t think that’s a problem for you, husband.” The endearment slipped out so easily I wouldn’t have noticed if not for Henry’s expression: something possessive or maybe primal curled his lips.
“Did you miss them in England?” I asked.
“Every single day,” he said. “Although traveling through Europe, living in England, hopping on a train whenever I wanted and picking a destination…it was every dream come true.” His eyes darkened. “Or I thought it was my dream.” I waited, let him chase whatever thought he was struggling with. “I think Codex is that dream now.”
“You think so?”
He shrugged, glanced at me sideways. “I guess it depends on how everything turns out.”
Philadelphia was a panorama of reflective metal buildings that glowed with the fire of the setting sun. Two rivers, bridges, New Jersey in the distance, the brick row homes and cobblestone streets and whimsical alleys. My heart was divided evenly between my love for the wild and overgrown forest I grew up in—and this city that shone all around us.
Henry and I stood and watched the sun dip—close, but not touching. Without Victoria’s scrutiny, he stayed back a respectful distance. I wished for her arrival, if only for the professional excuse to reach down, slide my fingers through his.
“Abe’s serious about self-defense training tomorrow, isn’t he?” he asked.
“Just a couple basics,” I promised. “Nothing to be afraid of.” I studied my fingernails and faked a sigh. “Besides getting your ass kicked, of course.”
“No warning needed,” he grinned. “I’ve been afraid of you since we met, Delilah.”
“Who, me?” I widened my eyes. “You’re joking.”
His dark eyes were teasing behind his glasses, body curving toward mine. “You know I’m not—”
“And what, pray tell, are you two doing here?”
Henry and I were both half-laughing when we turned and practically knocked over Francisco Abila, the head of the Franklin Museum.
“Sir,” I said immediately, straightening my spine. I was acutely aware of my tiny black cocktail dress, the ridiculously high stilettos Freya had convinced me to wear. “What are you doing here?”
Francisco appeared haggard around the eyes and permanently aged from when we’d seen him a little over a week ago. “I am here as a guest of Victoria Whitney, my board president. And you still haven’t answered my original question. I would like to know why Codex agents are having a date night while I am paying you for an extremely high-profile job.”
My cheeks burned but I kept my chin lifted. “Codex agents are undercover.” I dropped my voice as low as I was capable. “Your board president knows us as the Thornhills, and I’ll trust you not to blow it.”
Francisco looked ready to snap. “Abraham has had you continue pursuing Victoria even with my very legitimate doubts?”
“Yes, he has,” I said.
“While the police and the FBI are combing this city for hundreds of suspects, you’re still on this ridiculous quest to go after a woman who garners this kind of community reputation?” He indicated the hundreds of people surrounding us, here to celebrate a woman who gave away so much money she was being awarded.
His words poked at the tender edges of my worst fears—that I’d led Codex on a wild goose chase for nothing; that this case would amount to nothing more than a heap of misread clues and misunderstandings.
But instead I said, “You pay the contract. We find the book. This isn’t up for discussion.”
“And after I pay the contract and you don’t find the book, Codex’s reputation will be ruined. Permanently.”
Francisco stormed off and I took a shaky breath.
My worst fears were forever intertwined with Mark and the firing. Abe always trusted my gut instincts, even though he knew what had happened at the police department. That trust had been epically vital to me when I joined Codex—it was the life preserver I needed to pull myself out of self-doubt.
“He’s right,” I admitted, feeling queasy.
“Delilah,” Henry warned.
“You know he is.”
“Victoria Whitney has admitted to us on two separate occasions that she knowin
gly purchases stolen goods.”
“She has not admitted to having stolen one of the rarest books in the world from a museum weeks before its exhibit,” I argued. “She might buy a stolen Bradbury but is Victoria Whitney into thefts that are this high-profile?”
I set my wine down, placed a hand on my jumpy stomach. The audience began to ripple with awareness and applause—it was Victoria, looking glamorous in a red gown, taking the short steps to the stage. Cameras popped and flashed, capturing the heiress in her classic proud pose. Behind her, a presentation kicked up: photos of children, books, classrooms, and happy, smiling teachers. It was all for Victoria. She was beaming with a sweetness I’d never witnessed in her before.
The tip of Henry’s finger landed beneath my chin. He slowly tilted my head up, until I was focused on him.
“After I confronted Bernard, I ran to our board president, Louisa,” Henry said. “I told her about the theft. I told her that Bernard was planning on framing me with forged letters. I told her a very large guard with a very large gun had appeared in Bernard’s flat to threaten me.” His finger left my chin and I wished it hadn’t. “Louisa told me it was absurd. Sure, she’d known Bernard for twenty years. But she and I had also had a close professional relationship the entire time I’d worked there. Guards, guns, forgeries, thefts… Of course it was shocking. It’d be like…like if someone appeared right now and told you the Easter Bunny was real. I was shocked as hell, furious, scared, confused. But Bernard’s reputation carried so much weight, Louisa thought I’d made up the story on the spot.”
He waved behind us—at the high-society event where once again Victoria was the star. “People will go to great lengths to ignore what is right in front of them. Denial is a powerful currency. You told me that.”
I let out another breath—less shaky.
“I believe Victoria Whitney is a criminal hiding in plain sight. And I believe you, Delilah.”
18
Delilah
I believe you.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice was saying, “it is my sincere honor to introduce you to our Philanthropist of the Year. A woman whose generosity has changed the lives of so many here in our great city. A woman who truly needs no real introduction: Victoria Whitney.” The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, but I was still staring up at Henry, absorbing his words.
“Thank you,” I said as the crowd continued to cheer.
“You don’t have to thank me. And we should probably watch Victoria,” he said softly.
“Oh, right.” I turned around awkwardly, Henry moving behind me. Victoria was staring out at the audience with a serene, happy expression.
“Are we officially the Thornhills now?” he asked. His lips brushed my ear.
“Uh…yes,” I nodded, pretending to clap enthusiastically for the book thief on the stage. “Back to holy matrimony.”
I heard his low chuckle. Then his palms landed on my bare shoulders. Squeezed. Just a husband and wife, enjoying a VIP cocktail event together. I could feel his body heat but didn’t dare lean back. Those strong fingers stroked down my arm to my elbow. Down my elbow to my wrists and all the way back up again.
“Is this okay?” he whispered. Another teasing stroke.
“Yes,” I managed, swallowing the moan that threatened to escape.
One lingering caress and Henry had me practically purring in a room filled with hundreds of people. Francisco, Victoria, the Copernicus, the case…all of it faded away as his thumbs smoothed around my shoulders. I’d never experienced such an automatic reaction to physical touch before. The mere suggestion of Henry’s breath near my skin brought forth an urgent desire.
“Good evening,” Victoria said in her clipped, boarding school accent. “It is truly an honor to be here this evening with all of you, receiving an award I already know I will treasure for the rest of my days.” The presentation clicked by. There were photos of her reading books to children in classrooms, gifting giant checks to worthy charities. “I am known for being a lot of things in the city of Philadelphia. But not many people know that I am a bookworm, through and through. Literature was held in the highest esteem in my family, and it was expected that my siblings and I would understand and appreciate the greatest authors of our time. Later, as I grew older, this esteem grew to include art, history, music. It’s why I dedicated myself to building my private collection.” She smiled angelically. “I cannot bear to part with something as beautiful as a book.”
There was a ripple of appreciation in the audience. Henry’s expression was completely unreadable.
“It’s why literacy programs are vital in this city. Reading gives us worlds we never thought we could reach for. Literature can take us to the moon or send us to the core of the Earth. Literature turns us into dragons and sea monsters, princesses and peasants. Books are the key to everything, I believe. So when the Bristol Foundation comes calling for donations for libraries, they don’t have to ask me twice. It’s more than my responsibility. It’s a privilege.”
She gazed out into the audience like she was delivering the State of the Union. “They were not aware I would be doing this, but tonight, in front of all of you, I’m committing to another five million dollars in funding for libraries and literacy programs in our great city over the next five years.”
More camera flashes popped as the audience cheered their appreciation. The Foundation’s director was on the verge of grateful tears.
To the far left of the crowd, Francisco clapped as if his life depended on it.
Then stopped to shoot daggers my way.
I didn’t balk from his anger—even as Victoria’s speech made my skin itch. Was this really the same woman who had so casually admitted to us she knowingly broke the law? In my years as a police officer, my moral compass had developed a rigid sense of right and wrong—and there was no room for a thief who donated money to charity.
The director presented Victoria with an award, who placed a hand to her chest in a show of modesty. More cheering, more applause, and she was descending the steps back into the crowd. She was immediately mobbed.
“Let’s go sit,” Henry said. He placed his hand on my lower back, guiding me to two open bar stools. Heat lamps warmed the spring air, and golden twinkle lights were strung overhead. We perched on the stools—and I searched the crowd desperately for Victoria.
“You’re sitting very far away for someone who’s supposed to be madly in love with me,” Henry said. I turned back to him, distracted. He was leaning against the stool, legs spread in front of him. Suit jacket unbuttoned, relaxed smile on his face. I suddenly felt like the blushing women I’d caught spying on him.
“I guess you’re right,” I mumbled.
My fake husband reached forward beneath my bare legs and gripped the ledge of the stool. Both of us looked down. His arm was a single inch from brushing the backs of my legs. He pulled me over until our knees touched. “That’s better.”
Victoria was moving through the crowd, but I wasn’t sure if she’d spotted us. My hands were in my lap. Henry took one, turned it over. Traced his fingers down the palm to the inside of my wrist.
“Just in case Victoria’s watching,” he said hoarsely. His index finger moved in precise circles right over my pulse point.
“Of course.”
“Delilah,” he murmured. “You still seem a little out of it.”
“I’m a little nervous about Victoria. I don’t want her to think we’re stalking her, especially after what I said to her last night.”
“Which is why we don’t address her unless she comes to us, right?” He was repeating the plan we’d worked on with Freya this afternoon.
I nodded, straightened my posture. “I became a police officer to punish people like her,” I said. “In the scales of the universe, she’s wrong. But here she is doing something that’s right. It’s making me feel…a little off.”
“Off?”
I bit my lip. “Okay. I feel like my head’s about to explode.�
�
He rubbed his jaw, looking out over the skyline. The stroking of his thumb was inciting an answering pulse between my legs. Only my hand blocked that thumb from stroking the bare skin of my inner thigh. I recrossed my legs—taunting and teasing something I absolutely knew I shouldn’t. The motion disrupted the placement of his hand. And when I resettled, his palm landed on my thigh, two of the fingers slipping beneath the edge of my dress.
Now who was disrupting the scales of the universe?
“Do you remember what Victoria said to us last night? About human beings giving in to our base craving to own things that no one else can have?”
“I do.”
Henry’s eyes flicked down to the juncture of my thighs, where his fingers gripped me hard. Like he was stopping his hand from gliding beneath my dress. “I’ve seen Bernard give hundreds of lectures in our time working together. And if he said that once, he said it a hundred times.”
“He told students that?”
“No, he told them the exact opposite. ‘As humans, we must always stifle the compulsion to hoard beautiful things just for ourselves. Libraries and museums exist to let the world in, to expose the world to that which is truly magnificent,’” he quoted.
“What a fucking liar.” I shook my head.
“That’s it, though,” he continued. “I don’t think he was lying. I think Bernard actually believes in that concept. I became a librarian for those exact reasons. I became a librarian for the exact reasons Victoria mentioned. Because I believe books are magic. And everyone should have access to that magic. I’m starting to believe that Bernard exists between these two worlds fairly easily. Victoria does too.”
I shook my head—even as I was forced to confront the potential evidence right in front of me. “Good. Evil.” I held out my hands to indicate the two choices. “Victoria and Bernard go in the evil category. They broke the rules. They’re breaking the rules.”
Behind the Veil Page 12
