The Collector | 18+

【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.