The sword was the single most beautiful weapon in Quin Black’s vast collection. In the six years Annie Pontin had been the recluse’s personal assistant, she had never seen him acquire an item more elegant, nor treat another possession with such delicate care.
“I’d trade all the rest of it to keep this one item,” he’d said after he’d hired her. He caressed the bejeweled hilt like he would a lover, his long fingers tracing each stone, then curling around to cradle it in the palm of his hand. “I’d even trade my own life to ensure it was always protected.”
Personally, she thought the pronouncement a tad extreme. As a historian, she loved artifacts, too, but this was still just a sword. The kind of focus Quin demonstrated bordered on mania. Another person might have reconsidered taking the job at that point, but Annie had worked too hard to get Quin’s attention in the first place. She wanted this. She wasn’t going to pass it up because her boss had an unhealthy attachment to one of his possessions. After all, she told herself, people did it all the time. At least he was rich. When poor people developed fixations, they were called crazy. The wealthy were just “eccentric.”
The object of this particular eccentricity was a Roman relic. The blade dated to the first century, and while its polished construction held a simple beauty, it was the crusted guard that demanded attention. Rubies, each no larger than a teardrop, coated the thick metal. They glittered with very little illumination, scattering shards of scarlet across any available surface. Annie would even go so far as to say that under certain light, the jewels glistened as if they were fluid rather than gemstone.
Moments like that, she could almost understand Quin’s obsession. The sword evoked fantasies of different times, reminding her of all the reasons she’d fallen in love with history in the first place. When her friends had been talking about boys and fashion, Annie had buried herself in books about the past. She loved the neverending stories, how easy it was to get whisked away to another world, how inspiring and terrifying people could be all at the same time. History wasn’t a timeline. It was a web of interconnected events where the past influenced the present and the future could be anticipated if when people learned the lessons of their ancestors.
She liked to think of herself as an excellent student. But nothing had prepared her for falling in love with Quin.
Sighing, Annie tucked a loose curl behind her ear as she closed the storage room door shut behind her. She was becoming maudlin in Quin’s absence. Better to crack down and focus on what she’d come in here to do.
Under Quin’s instruction, she polished the sword every other day. Normally, cleaning was a task assigned to someone in the housekeeping staff, but from the beginning, this had been her responsibility.
“Nobody else will treat it the way we would.” Quin replied when she asked him why. His piercing eyes, a brown so dark they looked obsidian, had held her transfixed, as his hand rested on the glass case that housed the sword. “You’re the only one I trust to care for it as it deserves.”
How could she shirk her responsibility when it was justified with such passion?
As she finished laying out her cleaning supplies, the muffled ring of her phone vibrated from her back pocket. She smiled when she saw the caller ID.
“Why is it you always manage to interrupt me in the storage room?” she teased.
“It’s the only room in the house I can guarantee nobody will walk up and interrupt my time with you.” Quin’s baritone warmed the line. “How is your day going so far?”
“Oh, the usual. My boss is a tyrant.”
He chuckled. They had long ago crossed the borders from employer to friend, then from friend to intimate companion, in spite of the fact she still got a paycheck from him. “He’s also running late. The auction got delayed. I won’t be home until after you’ve gone to bed, most likely.”
“Oh.” Annie was glad he wasn’t there to see her pout. She didn’t get to see him nearly as much as she wanted to, but for the sake of appearances, she kept a brave face. “Well, maybe you can wake me when you get in then. Or better yet, I’ll stay up.”
“No, you’ll try to stay up. And then I’ll find you with your head on your arms at the desk, with creases on your cheek and drool ruining the book you were pretending to read while you waited for me.”
“I don’t drool.”
“But you can’t argue you won’t fall asleep.”
Annie sighed. “Well, no, you’ve got me there. So you’ll wake me up when you get in?”
“In the best way possible.”
Her skin heated at the husky promise in his voice. They had been lovers for nearly two years, but each time he touched her was still like the first. “Maybe I’ll wear that black teddy you got me last year. Didn’t you say you liked how that one felt against your skin?”
Over the line, Quin groaned. “Now that’s just mean. I have to sit here for at least four more hours. Do you know how uncomfortable that is with a hard-on?”