Obsidian Jewel (Enemies to Lovers Romance)
By Angel Lawson
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About this ebook
Professional thieves, competitors, and occasional lovers, Maya Clarke and Malcolm Kent, must work together on the job of a lifetime and try not to kill one another while doing it.
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Book preview
Obsidian Jewel (Enemies to Lovers Romance) - Angel Lawson
There are things in life that require no explanation. One of them is that green shag carpet only belongs at Graceland, immortalized on the walls and ceilings of the Jungle Room. Anywhere else it provides a sense of desperation. Suffocation.
Malcom Kent considers this as he tries hard not to touch anything in the room other than the slick vinyl seat he’s waiting in. If anything can be surmised from the decor it’s that the setting doesn’t bode well for the meeting he’s been asked to attend. Anyone that knows Kent is aware that this is not how he conducts business. Not in a government waiting room, straight from another decade—no century. From the wood paneled walls, to the puke green, vinyl-covered chairs, it’s like a time capsule of tacky-terrible furnishings.
While sitting in one of the aforementioned (yet surprisingly comfortable) chairs, Kent keeps one eye on the receptionist and another assessing the room. At least, he notes, the phone and computers mounted on the desk are from this decade. He does keep his attention focused away from the chair adjacent to his own. Not that it matters.
Are you really planning on ignoring me? Or, like, not even ask me why I’m here. Or why we’ve both been called here?
Maya Clarke asks from her seat across the room. Since he is ignoring her, he then ignores her comment. He checks his watch, wondering why they asked him here for a 9 AM meeting and haven’t called him in by 9:05. Unprofessionalism is a sure sign of failure as far as he’s concerned. Which, according to the plastic fern sitting on the end table, seems an appropriate assessment.
Persistent as ever, Maya continues, I’ll take that as a yes, then. Real mature. I’m glad that you’ve decided to take the high road here.
Kent stands and walks across the room to the receptionist’s desk. The sleek lines of his suit accentuate his broad shoulders and fit body. He arranges his face into his most charming one. Hi,
he says, glancing down at the name plate, Nicole. Do you have any idea how long it will be before I can go in? I have another meeting at ten and want to be able to give Agent Carson my full attention.
Nicole’s cheeks flare red, flustered like all women at Kent’s good looks. She pushes a stray hair behind her ear. Let me go find out what the hold-up is all about.
Thank you,
Kent says, with a smile. His eyes remain glued to Nicole’s backside as she knocks and enters Agent Carson’s office.
You’re such a cliché.
The muscle under Kent’s eye twitches. Barely, but it happened. Twice even, and he considers a retort. Something that will make Maya shut the fuck up. But he’s here to work or whatever it is they’ve asked him here for, not bicker with a two-bit, hacker thief.
Thankfully, Nicole opens the door and gives him a dazzling smile. Agent Carlson will see you now.
Thank you, Nicole.
She glances behind Kent. You too, Ms. Clarke.
Kent swings his head and makes eye contact with Maya for the first time that morning. She’s got on her standard fits-like-a-glove sweater, black stretchy pants and heeled-boots that go up, over her knees. Add all that to her dark black hair pulled up in a smart pony-tail and dark brown eyes that match her even darker brown skin. She’s gorgeous. And strong. Through the sweater he can see the lean shape of her muscular arms. From the outside she has the presence of a goddess. On the inside, Kent knows too well, she’s got the mind of a techno-wizard. A genius.
That two-bit, hacker thing may have been a bit unfair.
He grimaces. Yep. Looking at her is a bad idea. It makes him have feelings. Kent has spent years refusing to deal with feelings.
So you finally figured that one out, eh?
she asks, striding past him. A gust of delicious smelling perfume wafts in her wake. We’re both going in for the same meeting. Good thing we got our stories straight.
Shut up, Maya.
I mean, there’s no reason at all for the FBI to call us both in here. Together. None at all. We have absolutely nothing to worry about, right?
Maya—
Kent—
Jaw tight Kent follows Maya into the office, passing the middle-aged man, dressed in a cheap department store suit and tie. Talk about cliché. Government stooge, Kent mused, eyeing his pathetic shoes and receding hairline. For the millionth time, Kent appreciates his job and the lifestyle it affords him.
Ms. Clarke and Mr. Kent.
Agent Carlson pauses and looks between the two of them. Oh, I just noticed that—
Yes, together our names are Clarke Kent. Hilarious,
Kent says, dropping into a seat. "Let’s get straight to business. What did you ask me, or rather, us here for today. It’s not every day two professionals of our caliber are invited to the FBI office."
Maya’s eyebrows shoot up when Kent calls her professional. That’s a first.
Are you aware of the Obsidian project?
Yes,
Maya replies.
At the same time, Kent offers an aloof, Should I be?
Jackass,
Maya mutters under her breath. "It’s the name of the project to locate pieces of artwork stolen during World War II. You know, like the movie Monument’s Men. Did you see that?"
I only watch porn,
Kent replies, scanning the room for something that resembles a bar or cabinet that contains liquor. Even a bottle of cheap whiskey would take the edge off this increasingly annoying meeting. His survey comes up empty. Fucking government.
Of course you do.
Maya rubs her temples, which elicits a smug grin from Kent. Toying with Clarke is one of his top five favorite things to do. Two other of his top five favorites involve her as well. But with substantially less clothes.
Agent Carson ignores their exchange and continues, "Ms. Clarke is correct. Although a specialized team with the Allies located the majority of the artwork at the end of the war, the Nazi’s were able to successfully hide a handful of priceless works of art. With the fall of the regime and Hitler’s death, the Army stopped officially searching for the remaining pieces, satisfied with what they’d found. Occasionally, though, we will get a lead on a piece. Usually these