Page 61 of Afraid to Hope

Natasha and Bane were at the bank as soon as it opened and were ushered into a banker’s office. She presented her credentials to access the safe-deposit box, and the gentleman confirmed that the account had passed to Natasha when Josette Allamel died, per her will.

“Please,” he said to the two of them, indicating the chairs across from him on the other side of his desk.

Bane waited for Natasha to sit before lowering himself into the chair next to her.

“Can you tell me when the safe-deposit box was last accessed?” Natasha asked.

The banker pulled up the account on his computer and swiveled the monitor to face Natasha.

She leaned forward and placed her elbows on his desk, then started skimming the entries. Mémé had added Natasha as a co-lessor when Natasha was twenty-one. Pépé had accessed the safe-deposit box the day before his death. Mémé had taken Henri Allamel off as co-lessor mere weeks after he died and also accessed the safe-deposit box. Images of Natasha’s signature card and Pépé death certificate were attached to the file.

“Nothing after that?” she asked the banker.

“No. It would be in the record,” he said. “Do you wish to access it now?”

“Please.”

The gentleman rose and led Natasha and Bane through the security door and a room with walls of safe-deposit boxes, then inserted the bank’s key and Natasha’s and turned them at the same time. There was a muted click, and the exterior door of the compartment holding the box released. Natasha’s nerves were on edge as the banker pulled forth a steel-colored metal box, roughly ten by twelve inches and five inches in depth.

Bane squeezed her shoulder and his breath caressed her as he whispered, “Breathe, babe. It helps tremendously.”

She inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly.

“I’ll leave you now. Please take as long as you need. Ring the buzzer next to the door when you are done and I will return,” the banker said before giving Natasha her key.

“Thank you,” Natasha and Bane responded in unison before the man exited, closing the door softly behind him.

“Ready?”

Natasha’s key slipped from her fingers and clinked on the bar-height, stainless-steel counter next to the safe-deposit box. “Why am I so nervous?”

Bane stepped behind her and massaged her shoulders. “Maybe because you’ve had one shock after another? Or maybe because the clues left for you by your grandmother gave you no idea what you are about to see?”

Natasha closed her eyes and bowed her neck as the tension eased out of her shoulders, her mind returning to last night. And this morning. Bane gently worked her neck, his touch lighting her blood on fire. Her pulse went into overdrive, skipping and skittering.

He softly kissed the back of her neck. “Damn, baby.” He sighed.

She faced him. “Not here.”

“I know. I just have a hard time keeping my hands to myself when I’m around you.” His eyes held hers.

“Always direct, aren’t you?” She smiled.

“You like direct.”

“I do.” She grinned, then inhaled deeply, pivoting away from him and dropping her shawl and tote onto the chair next to where she stood. Natasha reached to lift the lid on the box, then pulled her hands back as if it had burned her. “What if it’s a Pandora’s box?”

“Come here.” He guided Natasha to one of the utilitarian chairs in the stark room, sitting first so that he could gather her in his lap.

Bane pulled Natasha closer, inhaling the heady combination of honey and lemongrass he had come to love because it was hers, tenderly running his fingers through the tendrils of hair that had escaped her messy bun, wishing things were different. He ached to make it all okay for her, but he had no idea in hell what the safe-deposit box held. Bane lifted her hand and rotated it, kissing her tattoo and palm gently before intertwining his fingers with hers and setting her hand back in her lap. “Your grandfather’s office was rifled through. You discovered a secret compartment in his office with incriminating documents. We don’t know the whys.”

“It’s surreal. How could my grandfather, of all people, be involved in the network we’re trying to destroy?”

“Emmet has analysts going through everything we gave them. We need to get as much information as possible before we assume anything. We also need to bear in mind that things aren’t always what they seem.”

“True,” she acknowledged quietly.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each enjoying their closeness and contemplating the next possible twist.

---