Page 62 of Afraid to Hope

Natasha untangled herself from Bane and rose. “You’re right though. We don’t have all the information. I’ve allowed my emotions to shape my perspective instead of using my brain.” She faced him, her expression resolute. “Let’s do this.”

Bane stood, cupped his hand around her neck, and inclined his head. He kissed her slowly. Natasha slid her arms around his waist, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, leaving them both breathless.

“Later,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth drawing up into a sexy grin as he ran the pad of his thumb over her full bottom lip. “I want you too. Fuck, I always want you.” He nodded to the metal box. “Let’s do this.”

At first opening the safe-deposit box was anticlimactic. Only two items lay inside. The flat, smaller one was an envelope addressed to Tasha in Mémé’s handwriting. The second item was an unmarked, corrugated white box that took up most of the safe-deposit box’s interior.

Natasha glanced up at Bane. “This looks like an archival box. Envelope first.” She walked away from the counter and paced while reading the note. Natasha’s intake of breath was sharp. Her hand flew to her heart and she dropped into the chair they had occupied moments earlier.

“Tell me.”

Natasha bobbed her head and held a finger up as she read, wide-eyed, indicating she would fill him in when she was done. “Jesus.” Whispering did not mask her disbelief. Upon finishing, she handed the letter to Bane and turned her face away, but not before he noted the unshed tears and the anguish and disbelief warring in her expression.

Bane read through the letter and whistled before laying it on the counter. He squatted in front of Natasha. “Nat?” Silence. “Hey,” he said softly, his finger tracing the outline of her trembling jaw. “Talk to me.”

She shook her head and continued to look away, wrapping her arms tightly around her ribs and pushing back against the hard chair, clearly fighting for control, fighting to hold together the crumbling walls of her fortress.

“I’ll admit. It’s fucking unbelievable, like some crazy thriller.” He covered her hands with his, observing how their bone structure differed—hers fine, his heavy. “Need a few minutes?”

Bane had to strain to hear her yes. His fingers trailed over hers as he let go and stood. After several minutes of watching her and total silence, he pulled his phone from his hip pocket and texted Emmet.

Something has come up. Will contact soon.

“I thought I could distance myself emotionally.” Natasha’s voice shook but she faced him, clasping her hands tightly together. “Instead, I’m cracking. I have to keep perspective.” She dropped her hands and inhaled deeply, rising as she spoke. “As you’ve pointed out, my grandfather’s choices do not reflect on me.”

Bane gathered her into his arms. Natasha’s heart beat rapidly against his chest as he stroked her back gently. She softened into him and rested her head in the crook of his shoulder.

“That’s right.” He spoke softly into her lustrous hair before kissing it. “You’re strong, sweetheart. And remember, you have me for support. Don’t hide from how you feel, and certainly don’t apologize to me or anyone else for those feelings, okay?”

Natasha’s eyes shone up at Bane as she slid her arms around his waist, hanging on for support. “You’re good for me, you know that?”

“I most certainly do. I’m glad you finally accept that.”

She stepped back and popped him in the upper arm with her fist, grinning. “Cocky.”

“Yes.” He winked at her, heat simmering in his eyes.

Natasha cleared her throat and gave Bane a penetrating stare. Reaching into her tote, she withdrew a zippered pouch and, with a flourish, removed a pair of white gloves from a clear protective sleeve.

“What all do you have in that thing?” Bane chuckled, indicating her oversized tote. “It’s like a bottomless bag.”

“You might be surprised,” she replied sassily. “These are inspection gloves. I always carry some with me. They’re an extra layer of protection when examining artifacts, in this case the box’s contents. Fingers have natural oils in them. The gloves also provide friction to avoid an object slipping from my grasp.” She slid them over her slim hands as she spoke. “Let’s see what my grandfather left at the front desk of the hotel Asilah because his room wasn’t ready.” She pulled the flaps from the sides where they were inserted and lifted the lid. “Oh! Excellent.”

Bane’s eyes darted from Natasha to the thinly wrapped item. “What’s excellent?”

“It’s some kind of book, and this is archival tissue. Mémé thought this through. There’s a large tied organizer in the bottom of my tote. Can you get that for me and untie it? Roll it out and place it next to my hand. It has my tools. Yes, you may dig in my bag,” she answered in response to his raised brows.

He did as Natasha asked, then leaned his elbows on the counter and watched her work. She was mesmerizing. Beautiful. Confident. All earlier emotions and tension had vanished; she was focused on her task. She parted the tissue gently and gasped. Inside an unsealed bag was an ancient book.

“What is it?” Bane scowled.

“It’s a codex,” she whispered excitedly. “Remember when Emmet said there was rumor of another codex that disappeared during World War II? Give me my shawl please.”

“Uh-huh…,” he said guardedly, handing Natasha the colorful shawl pinned under her tote.

“I believe this may be that codex!” She formed her shawl into a supportive cushion on top of the metal counter and carefully placed the ancient book in the center of it, making sure there was ample room on all sides. Natasha gently slid the codex from its unsealed bag.

“Why would your grandfather have had it?”

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