Page 107 of Johan.

We take a picture together to mark the occasion, the camera flash momentarily blinding us. The light lingers in my vision, creating a fleeting, dreamlike quality to the moment. As thebrightness fades, I see Sir Gregory approaching, his expression warm and proud.

“Congratulations on an outstanding presentation and press conference, Johan,” Sir Gregory begins, his voice filled with admiration. “You’ve really put this discovery on the map.”

“Thank you, Sir Gregory,” Johan replies, the appreciation clear in his voice. He stands a little taller, his shoulders squared with the acknowledgment of his hard work.

Sir Gregory’s expression shifts slightly, becoming more serious. The jovial atmosphere of the gathering contrasts sharply with the sudden change in his demeanor. He gently pulls Johan and me a bit away from the crowd, his eyes scanning the surroundings to ensure no one overhears us. His tone lowers to a confidential whisper, a sense of urgency lacing his words.

“The police have finally arrested Ludovic, and he is being interrogated as we speak,” he reveals, his voice barely audible over the distant chatter of the party.

Johan's brow furrows in confusion. “Where was he?” he asks, his curiosity piqued.

“He was here in England, just hiding,” Sir Gregory responds, his eyes narrowing as if recalling the complexities of the case. He pauses, glancing around once more before continuing. “The wife is in Morocco, and apparently, she informed their daughter that Ludovic was with them too, most likely as a cover-up.”

The revelation hangs in the air between us, a heavy silence filling the space. I can see the gears turning in Johan's mind as he processes the information. The festive ambiance of the event seems worlds away from the gravity of the situation Sir Gregory has just described.

Johan then adds, his voice low and contemplative, “Knowing him as I do, he knew the police were coming for him. I'm sure he's got everything figured out, lawyers, destroyed evidence…”

Sir Gregory’s lips form a thin line, a mixture of determination and resolve in his eyes. “Maybe, but we've got you guys,” he counters, placing a reassuring hand on Johan's shoulder. “Professor Amelia and Dr. Angela are ready to testify against him in court. He’s got his days counted.”

Johan and I nod in approval, a silent agreement that we will see this through to the end. Sir Gregory gives us a final, encouraging look before turning and making his way back into the crowd. The weight of the situation lingers, but so does a renewed sense of purpose.

Johan turns to me, a hint of frustration in his eyes. “Well, if this isn’t odd that Nina’s in Morocco exactly when the police arrested her husband.”

“Maybe I should speak to Astrid and try to make amends. Then she might tell me the truth about her involvement in her dad’s scheming,” I suggest, feeling a pang of uncertainty.

Johan shakes his head, unconvinced. “Don’t worry, baby, this is between the university, the prosecutors, and the Goschens. Nothing to do with us anymore.”

Before I can try to convince him, Johan takes one step closer, pulling me against him. The suddenness of it causes me to gasp. He leans in, his voice a low whisper that sends shivers down my spine. “I’m gonna have to go and mingle a bit, but afterward, we can go somewhere…”

His words, laced with promise, make me feel warm all of a sudden. I nod, unable to speak, the anticipation building within me.

Johan’s eyes hold mine for a moment longer, a silent communication passing between us, and then he releases me, turning to engage with other guests. I watch him move through the crowd, his charisma drawing people in, and I feel a mix of admiration and longing.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady the rush of emotions. The room around me buzzes with excitement, but my thoughts are tangled with Johan and the unresolved issues with Astrid. The persistent voice urging me to understand her side remains, but for now, I let it rest.

As I move through the exhibition, admiring the intricate artifacts and engaging in light conversation, I keep glancing at Johan. Each time our eyes meet, the connection between us feels electric, charged with unspoken words and promises.

Johan moves to speak with other faculty and donors, his charm and intellect drawing them in. I watch him, feeling a wave of desire. His confidence and the way he holds himself make my heart race. I bite my lip, memories of our intimate moments flooding back.

Finally, the event begins to wind down, and Johan makes his way back to me. He takes my hand, his touch sending warmth through me. His fingers intertwine with mine, a silent promise in his grip. The lingering scent of champagne and polished wood adds to the ambiance, the murmurs of guests fading into the background as the room empties.

“Ready to go?” he asks, his voice soft but filled with intent. His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel a thrill run through me.

“Depends where…” I respond, a teasing smile playing on my lips. The anticipation crackles between us, tangible and electric.

He steps closer, his body heat radiating towards me. “To a place where I can make all your wishes come true…” His words are a whisper, a promise that makes my heart race. He leans in, his breath warm against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Tell me, sweetheart, what do you want?”

I bite my lip, feeling the rush of desire building inside me. “All I want is to feel you.”

His eyes darken with desire. “You always know how to make an archaeologist lose his composure,” he replies, his voice huskyand full of longing. He leans in even closer, his lips brushing against my ear. “Let’s go, then.”

He takes my hand again, guiding me through the dimly lit corridors of the museum. The sound of our footsteps echoes off the marble floors, each step heightening the anticipation. The soft glow of the overhead lights cast shadows that dance across the walls, adding to the intimacy of the moment.

We reach the archive section, a secluded room filled with rows of ancient texts and artifacts. The scent of aged paper and leather fills the air, creating an atmosphere that is both mysterious and alluring. Johan pulls me close, his hands sliding around my waist, drawing me into the warmth of his embrace. Our breaths mingle as we kiss passionately, his lips soft yet insistent. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, a magnetic pull that draws me closer. His hands trace the contours of my body, sending waves of electricity through me. The friction of our clothes adds to the intensity, each touch and caress heightening the connection between us.

His fingers find the small of my back, pulling me even closer, and I can feel every curve and muscle through the fabric. The scent of his cologne, woodsy and rich, fills my senses as his lips travel down my neck, a gasp escaping me. The sensation sends sparks of pleasure through my entire being. My hands roam over his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. The tension of the day melts away, replaced by a consuming desire that takes over every thought.

Johan’s touch is both tender and urgent, his hands exploring as if memorizing every inch of me. I can feel his heart beating against mine, a steady, comforting rhythm amidst the storm of our passion. His breath is warm against my skin, and every kiss, every touch, ignites a deeper yearning within me.

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