I’m so tired, and I wish I could believe him. I let my head rest on his shoulder as four words run on a loop in my mind.

No one but you.

* * *

Daniel

Gemma is utterly silent as I drive. Using my teeth, I tug off my thin leather gloves and reach over to cover her hand with mine. But she flinches and pulls back. “Don’t.”

The word escapes on a whisper, and I cast a quick glance at her. “I…can explain—bugger it. I’m an arse, Gemma.”

“You lied to me.”

“I did. But not about my feelings for you. Never about that.”

“Oh no? Why did you first challenge me to a chess game?” Her voice is stronger now, and she balls her hands into fists on her thighs.

“To get close to you. To pump you for information about the security surrounding the Lewis Chessmen. I had a buyer for them. But…then I got to know you, and—”

“And you decided fucking me would just seal the deal? Wooing me with a stolen painting, plying me with expensive wine, seducing me with all those beautiful words.” Tears spill onto her cheeks, and she turns to stare out the window.

“No!” I snap, louder than I intend. “The first day we met in person, I knew you weren’t simply a mark to me anymore. Everything between us after that…was real.Isreal.”

“You’re an art thief, Daniel. And I work for the British Museum. We can’t have anything real.”

Silence fills the car, so thick I feel like I’m choking on it. But she’s been through too much for me to argue with her tonight. After I finish what I started with Tatiana, perhaps she’ll understand. If not…my heart may never be whole again.

* * *

She letsme help her up to her flat, even allows me to draw her a bath and help her into the tub, never once looking me in the eyes. After she’s wrapped in a fluffy robe with a mug of tea and tucked in her bed, she meets my gaze. “Did you steal the Chessmen?”

I won’t lie to her again. Even though she could destroy me. “Yes. When I called you, I’d just left a forged set in their place.”

She nods, running her fingers over the rope welts on her wrist. “I want you to leave now.”

“Gemma, please—”

“No. No more excuses. I’ll keep your secret. Though once my boss sees me looking like this, I’ll probably end up the prime suspect.” Gemma swipes at a single tear that races down her cheek. “Don’t contact me again. The door is self-locking. Pull it closed on your way out.”

She looks so small and broken under the blankets. So vulnerable. So…sad. But her eyes hold fierce determination, so I nod. “I...I am sorry. For everything.”

The click of the door locking behind me is the final blow to my heart, and as I start the car, I wonder if I’ll ever feel anything again.

Gemma

Three days later, I muster the courage to go back to work. After Daniel left, I hid from the whole world. Didn’t turn on the television, didn’t answer emails. Left my boss and my professors a message that I’d been hit by a car and needed time to recover.

I don’t have many friends in London. I’ve always been too busy with work and school to socialize. But two of my coworkers came knocking yesterday. I ignored them and hid in my bedroom, crying.

Getting dressed takes me an hour, and by the time I’m done, I think a car accident would hurt less. My ribs are covered in bruises, my cheek is a deep purple, even with several layers of foundation, and the welts around my wrists itch like crazy. At least I managed to fix my glasses.

A little before 9:00 a.m., I limp up the steps to the museum, my heart hammering in my chest like it’s about to explode. I can’t go more than five minutes without thinking of Daniel, and that’s the worst pain of all. Knowing he betrayed me. Knowing I fell for it. And him.

Patrons mill about, a bit of normalcy I needed more than I thought. I sniffle more than once on my way to my office.

“Miss Gemma!” Charles calls as I pass the antiquities room. I don’t want to go in there, but thankfully he rushes to the edge of the room, so I don’t have to cross the threshold. “Mrs. Savoy said you’d been hit by a car. You’re okay, yeah?”

“Healing.” I glance over at the podium where the Chessmen should be—only to see them. “Did anything…happen while I was out?”