He laughs, which only adds to my irritation. “According to old journals I managed to find—”
“You mean the museum site you were able to hack?”
“Which impresses you more?”
“Honesty.”
“Then we’ll stick with the honest route. If the journals are real, there should be a hidden compartment somewhere on the estate. But on the estate website, nothing is mentioned, so either it doesn't exist, they don’t want the public to know, or it does exist but hasn’t been found.”
I roll my eyes. “There’s no way it hasn’t been found,ifit exists.”
“Regardless, I should like to see for myself,” Liam says, pulling off the main road and down a private lane.
I sit back, my gaze drawn outside to the English summer. The sun is shining through the oak trees. Something glints in one of the trees, but we pass before I can make it out.
I study the next tree and see it again. “There are cameras along this whole property.”
“Don’t worry. They should have just gone down.” Liam smiles, clearly pleased with himself.
“So, no one will be trying to kill us here?” I brush the gun through the light fabric of my dress.
“Guaranteed. I uploaded some altered photos to one of my dummy accounts, showing me in Versailles.”
I don’t know how he does it. How is a man that good-looking so smart? Not that they can’t exist in the same human, but it irks me that he’s just…sogood. At all of it. Why does he have to use it for selfish purposes?
We pull up in front of the estate. Only a few other cars are in the lot.
Despite myself, a little thrum of excitement buzzes along my skin. What if we do find a treasure? It’s ridiculous, I know, but the way Liam takes this so seriously has me yearning to believe it like he does.
There’s a little office inside the main entrance Liam enters. He purchases two tickets and asks the attendant questions he no doubt knows the answer to. The woman lights up as he flirts in his obnoxiously curious way.
“Collette and Finnick Moore built this place, correct?” Liam asks.
“Yes. Finnick was one of the kindest of his day.” The woman speaks as if she were alive at that time. “After his terrible son, Cillian, ran off, the parents decided to use their wealth to help others, and housed, fed, and taught more than a hundred parentless children who would have died on the streets.”
“And the son never returned?”
She tsks. “If he did, he was confined to the gardener’s house out back, so his ways would not rub off on the children.” She hands Liam a brochure with a map of the property.
“Thank you.” He nods to her then turns to me. “Shall we, my love?”
I plaster a phony smile on my face. “After you, Buttercup.”
He takes my hand, leading me straight out the back door. “I think you wanted me to go first, so you could enjoy the view of my backside, and I have to say, I do not mind being objectified by you.”
I ignore him, which is always the safest course of action when it comes to Liam Hawthorne.
Unsurprisingly, he goes straight to the garden house.
“Nothing is hidden there,” I say, adjusting the top of my stupid dress. I’m not comfortable without a bra. But the corseted top is surprisingly supportive. The dress is almost…almostpleasant. It’s light and airy, and I feel… pretty. It’s the shoes I take issue with. Flats that, should I need to run, will only impede me by causing me to slip or feel every rock underfoot.
I pat the side of my thigh to confirm my gun is still safely strapped there.
“There could be nothing here. Or… we might find a key to the treasure. Shall we place a wager on it?” Liam asks. “The first one to find the compartment?”
“No.”
“Come on, Cruz, live a little.”
