Page 35 of The Scarab's Game

Emmett frowned. “Can I have a moment alone with Jenn, please?”

Dante checked with me, and when I nodded, he left for the office.

I dropped my swab into the jar and folded my arms.

Emmett placed his small bag on the worktable and gripped my upper arms. He kept his voice so quiet Dante wouldn’t hear him. “I know you think this is ridiculous, but I’m worried about your safety. I’ve barely been able to think straight the entire time I’ve been here. Someone targeted you?—”

“Targeted?”

He let go of me, shaking his head. “That’s not what I?—”

“You said Rav called you paranoid?”

“He did.”

“And this is why? You said you’d walk me over this morning, but now you assume I’ll leave with you, even though I have a professional responsibility?”

Something flashed behind his eyes—something I’d never seen before. Worry? Fear? Panic?

No, Emmett Reynolds never panicked. He was always the picture of control.

His features softened, and he picked up the bag. “Why don’t we discuss this over lunch? We can walk to the Café de Paris, across from the hotel.”

I unfolded my arms and stepped closer to him, looking up into his deep brown eyes, full of faux concern. “Why?”

“Because I enjoy your company.”

Emmett had said I wasn’t allowed to stay in my own room.

Wasn’t allowed to stay with Jayce.

Wasn’t allowed to come to the gallery on my own or stay unless my quote-unquote bodyguard was there.

Going to lunch wasn’t about enjoying my company. It was about controlling me. Emmett was doing the same thing every other man in my life did.

I grabbed a fresh stick and a wad of cotton. “I’m in Monaco for work. I only have so much time to get this done. Going out for lunch is not a luxury I can afford right now.”

Was I overreacting?

Honestly, I hadn’t wanted to stay in my old room or even in a new one last night. Not alone. Having him in the next room was the only reason I’d been able to get any sleep at all.

Iwasoverreacting.

But so was he.

Emmett stared at the painting, fumbling with something in his left pocket.

Dante entered the room. “Is everything all right?”

As I nodded, Emmett said, “When do you expect you’ll finish?”

“When they kick me out.” I finished rolling the solvent on, disposed of the cotton, and pulled off another chunk, wiping away the dirt from the painting.

Dante said, “We close at eight.”

I tried not to look, but I could almost hear Emmett’s jaw tighten.

He reallywasworried about something. What was he not saying? “I’ll swing by and?—”