She props her elbow on the table and leans in, while I hold the edge of the map down so that it doesn’t curl back.
“Anything?” she asks.
“Nothing about tunnels, caves, or voids,” I say, scanning the document.
She double-checks. “I don’t see anything, either.”
“Just a note about bedrock depth and drainage.” I tap the page. “If Geoffroy knew about the underground fun house, this survey wouldn’t be here.”
“True.” Her shoulders loosen just a fraction.
We keep going.
Another twenty minutes, and I find a slim folder of sketches. Geoffroy’s handwritten scrawls fill the margins—measurements, angles, landscaping ideas. Everything focuses on foundations and access roads.
I pass her the folder, our fingers meeting again.
“Here’s another clue,” I say. “If they’d started digging for this hotel, they would’ve hit the smuggling route within the first week.”
Eva studies the page, then leans back, holding it. “He didn’t know.”
“No.” I meet her eyes. “He didn’t.”
She breathes out slowly. “That’s something, isn’t it?”
“Definitely,” I say.
And I mean it. As much as I hated the man, finding evidence that he wasn’t knee-deep in contraband or worse,treason, makes my future brighter.
We stack the three pieces of evidence together, clip them, and drop them into a folder marked for Von Dietz.
“Dinner is in twenty minutes,” Eva says, pushing her chair back.
I stand.
We gather loose papers into neat piles.
“I’ll walk you up,” I offer.
We head for the door. The corridor is empty, our footsteps muffled by the old carpet.
Halfway to the stairs, I stop. “Will I see you later tonight?”
I hope my voice sounds casual, but my stomach knots.
She feigns surprise, eyes laughing. “What for?”
“Eva,” I say, tilting my head.
Her lips curve. “I’ll sneak into your room around eleven.”
I try not to grin like a maniac as we keep walking.
I fail.
Eva’s curled against me,skin warm, hair spread across my shoulder. The sheets are a tangle around our legs. I stroke lazy lines along her back, feeling the faint rise and fall of her breathing. We’ve been kissing in that slow, lingering way that says neither of us wants to move just yet. Her hand rests on my chest, fingers curled as if anchoring herself.
The sweet, quiet intimacy of this moment is almost as good as the sex we just had… until thoughts of tomorrow’s verdict intrude. If Derek’s right—and he usually is—it’ll land in my favor. That could shatter whatever fragile thing Eva and I have been building. Unless…
