The Collector | 18+

【26】Self-Sabotager

Ulrik

Life worked in a strange manner, forever unpredictable regardless of how much experience one might have. The situation I found myself in proved that beyond doubt.

I'd hoped that my behavior during my stay in New York would effectively push Miss Connelly away, putting an end to whatever had been growing between us. But I'd underestimated her resilience and dedication to her work, so now she was staying with me, invading my private space as much as she did my thoughts.

Instead of having pushed away the danger she posed, I had brought it closer, right at my doorstep—past it, even. At least, she seemed to loathe me to some extent, still pissed at me because of the way I'd treated her. Just not enough to refuse my offer to loan her items from my collection...

As we ate together, facing each other at the dinner table, I tried to envision what the next week would be like. There was still something between us, still some form of desire, a lingering tension. Something as potent as what we'd had couldn't fade away so easily; it would take more time to become a thing of the past, a distant memory. But if the last few hours were any indication, I worried my infatuation for her would only grow stronger with each day of her stay here.

I'd realized that the moment I'd seen her come out of the terminal's gate, actually. And then the way she'd halted upon seeing me, the displeased frown that had bent her delicate brows, had served as a bitter reminder that I'd insulted her, depriving myself of her smiles and flirty glances. After a brief moment where I'd regretted my actions, I'd remembered it was for the best, and that the thrill of the game wasn't worth its aftermath.

While I'd looked at her while she examined the collection, I'd questioned that decision, entranced by the passion that seeped through her, envious of the items for being the center of her attention, the objects of her passion.

But this was why I had to keep her away, to push her harder than the pull I felt toward her. This level of intensity could only bring troubles, and I needed none of that.

Silence surrounded us as we ate the delicious ramen Yuko had cooked for us, and I didn't try to break it with conversation so it was less awkward. I could tell she was torn. Despite my behavior, she still wanted me to some extent, and it wouldn't take much to get her to cave in. But as tempting as that was, I couldn't afford it. So, instead of being the charming man she'd met, the one I wanted to be around her, I would try to keep a barrier between us. And it would stay there, no matter how much I wanted to tear it down.

"It was my understanding that your family's collection extended to more than your Viking heritage," she pointed out, breaking the crisp quietness.

"It does. Blame it on genetics, but we've always been interested in traveling and exploring new worlds. The Westergaards have amassed countless treasures over the centuries."

"And where are those now?"

"I'm trying to repair our wrongs by having everything returned to their original countries. Museums all over the world have objects that still belong to me, but will be exposed and accessible to people who can appreciate their meaningfulness. I still kept a few pieces for myself—personal favorites—but ninety percent of the collection is now out of my hands."

"That's very commendable of you," she said, visibly appreciative of my enterprise.

"It seemed selfish to keep it all for myself."

"What of your Viking collection, then?"

A dry smile bent the corner of my lips before I could stop it. "I reserve the right to remain a little selfish."