Chapter Fifty-Six
I’m in Paris again. At another auction. At the same gallery where it all started. On Project MM2, ordered by my pain-in-the-butt mother-in-law, Alessa King, because Jaxon is off on a different job.
The fake Fabergé egg that Jaxon had left behind two years ago has now been replaced with a new Fabergé egg, the Mosaic egg. This one was Tsar Nicholas II’s Easter gift to his wife in 1914. After the revolution, it was purchased in 1933 by King George V as a birthday gift for his Queen Mary.
I shouldn’t be here in Paris. I should be in Philly, taking care of business there. But, unbeknownst to Markus, I’m a provisional member of the Unseen, working for both my boyfriend’s father and his mother.
Jo was booted off the team a while back, and Kavon got engaged and retired to the Caribbean. I was asked to fill in temporarily until Jaxon finds a replacement, and I reluctantly agreed.
Outside the gallery minding the getaway car is Collin. Inside, mingling and keeping a lookout, is Melanie. Standing outside the same door as two years ago, hacking the security monitor, is me.
The system has been upgraded since my last break-in, but so have I. Thanks to Markus’s labs and my newest gadgets, hacking and breaking in has never been easier. I feel invincible.
In seconds, I’m through the first door. I dodge the rotating camera and am through the second door in another minute.
Jaxon’s not behind door number two this time. It’s just me and the Mosaic egg. It’s gorgeously sophisticated. Extraordinary. Ingenious art.
Carefully opening the glass case, I lift out the egg, marveling at its beauty—the tiny diamonds, topaz, sapphires, rubies, emeralds, pearls, and garnets, artfully fitted into its intricate mesh.
I open the egg to check for the masterful medallion with portraits of Tsar Nicholas II and Tsarina Alexandra’s five children that’s supposed to be inside, and my heart skips a beat.
Crap.
It’s not there.
Is this a fake?
There’s something else inside that doesn’t belong there. A golden yolk. It’s reminiscent of the golden yolk that was inside the very first Fabergé egg—the First Hen.
Or…is this the original golden yolk?
Something’s seriously off here.
Gingerly removing the yolk, I set the Mosaic egg back in the case and delicately twist the yolk to open it. If there’s a gold hen with ruby eyes inside, I’ll know this yolk is from the First Hen…and some dimwit curator with zero knowledge of Fabergé eggs got the inner surprises of the eggs severely mixed up.
Sure enough, a gold hen with ruby eyes sits inside the yolk.
Carefully, I open the hen by its tail feathers, expecting to find a miniature royal diamond crown and a ruby egg pendant.
But…
What I find is a stunning, eye-blinding blue diamond ring with a narrow strip of paper sticking up from the band.
It says…
Marry me.
I stare uncomprehendingly at it, trying to process what the heck is going on. Then, I hear the beep of the door.
And I know.
It’s him.
Jaxon.
He arranged all of this.
He said he was on a mission for Markus, but he wasn’t. He was here, doing this.
For me.
My heart thump, thump, thump–ing in my chest, I slowly turn.
There, wearing all black, kneeling on one knee, is Jaxon.
He smiles nervously and holds out his empty palm.
I inhale a shuddering breath and say through an anxious laugh, “Classified, huh?”
I’ve never seen him so open and vulnerable. All his defenses are down. “So? Will you?” he asks softly.
I look at the ring, at his open palm, at his unguarded eyes. “I, um…”
This is so totally unexpected. I am literally speechless.
“Timber.” His eyes narrow, but it’s an attempt to conceal the panic I can see edging into them.
I clear my throat but only to keep the tears from coming. Tears of happiness. “You fool, of course, I’ll marry you.” On shaky legs, I walk over and place the ring in his open palm, and hold out my trembling left hand.
Grasping the ring, he closes his eyes and exhales a gust of relief. “Christ, I’ve never been this nervous about anything in my life.”
“You thought I’d say no?”
He makes a face and looks up at me. “Who knows with you?”
I stick my hand out and wiggle my fingers. “Shut up and give me my ring.”
Removing the Marry me note from the ring’s band, he takes my hand and presses a kiss to my finger before sliding the ring onto it. “I love you.”
I gaze down at my finger. At the ring on my finger. I can still feel his kiss there.
Good Lord. I’m engaged.
I’m…engaged.
As my lips begin to tremble, I tell myself no crying. I’m too badarse for that. I. Do. Not. Cry. I’m tough. I’m ingenious. I’m cunning. I’m—
Bloody hell. Engaged.
To Jaxon bloody King. My first lover…and my last love.
“I’m engaged…” I whisper hoarsely.
He bites back a smile. “Yeah. Me, too.”
“This is for real, right?” I couldn’t stand it if this is just a prank. “There’s not gonna be some big twist later on?”
“I’d never play with your heart, babe. Never,” he promises sincerely, planting another kiss to my finger. “I promise to guard it and protect it with everything in me. You’re mine, your heart is mine. Always. No games.”
Badarse, classified, top-secret worker and all, the tears come. Totally ruining my tough-girl image.
“Are you cr—?”
“Shut up,” I interrupt, letting the tears fall freely. These are happy, happy tears, so I don’t care. I tug on his hand. “Get up here and kiss me. They’re watching.”
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