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.”
Henry stared at me until I felt a flush work its way up my neck. His palm gripped my thigh tighter, and I was tempted—so fucking tempted—to spread my legs for him on this damn stool. Allow that desperate, urgent desire to crest beneath fingers that kept coaxing me toward sin.
Because I was a rule breaker too. I’d done it once, with Mark—I’d broken the rules as surely as Victoria and Bernard.
“I made a series of unforgivable mistakes in the month leading up to Bernard going missing. I doubted my instincts. Didn’t believe what I saw. And instead of going to the police, I thought confronting Bernard would make him…” He chuckled derisively. “I thought I could get him to confess to me and change his ways. That’s how naive I was, Delilah. Where does that place me? Good? Evil?”
“You feel guilty about that?” I asked, because I didn’t really know the answer to his question. He leaned away from me, removing his hand from my leg. I almost snatched it back.
“Constantly,” he confessed.
“Bernard is a criminal mastermind. You just got in his way. He was going to end up underground whether you confronted him or not.”
“Or he could have been arrested that night if I’d made a different choice.” His jaw tightened, a deep line etched between his brows. “But I genuinely believed I was doing the right thing.”
Tentatively, I reached for his hand. Brushed his skin in what I hoped was a soothing gesture.
“I understand why you did what you did,” I said and meant it. “I believe you.”
The echoed statement hung between us in the perfumed air. We stared down at our joined hands—I caressed his palm, entwining our fingers together.
If Victoria saw us now, what would she see—tenderness…affection…trust?