Page 8 of Booked for Theft

“Clearly, you are starved, and I must do my sacred duty as the man of the household, beating my chest and providing supper after a long and fierce battle with my prey.” Bradley snickered, beat me to the elevator, and pressed the up button. The doors opened, and he stepped inside, making certain to keep his foot in front of the sensor so I could enter at my leisure. “I battled an uncooperative cell phone, but I emerged victorious.”

One day, I would get fed up with Bradley’s phone and chuck it off the balcony to the street far below, where its days as an annoyance would come to an end. “What did it do now?”

“Apparently, it has lost the ability to stay charged for longer than twenty minutes. We will be going to the store tomorrow. I could tolerate the rest of the problems. Twenty minutes on a charge is unacceptable.”

Finally. “We could both get new ones, and my old one can become a spare.”

“Your old one is not very old,” he reminded me.

“But we can be phone twins.” Well aware he liked matching, I challenged him with a raised brow. “Are you going to walk away from such an opportunity? The old phone can get a new number and live here. It’ll be the cellular version of a landline.”

“And as I refused to get a landline but have complained bitterly over the lack of a landline, your suggestion has great merit. All right, we shall venture forth and visit the phone store tomorrow after we handle all those work things we would rather not.”

I laughed, well aware that Bradley had thrown himself back into his business affairs with childlike delight after our return from California. The same glee infected me, and I’d twirled and danced my way through my first day back at work, much to the alarm of my co-workers.

They remembered the me from before my kidnapping and operation, unable to walk without pain.

The new me had found a renewed lust for life, embracing the moment with a joy I hadn’t been able to experience for so long.

In addition to ten thousand steps a day, I attended dance class three times a week with Bradley, and we made a point of going out and experiencing the world when we weren’t attempting to solve the mystery of how our government had fallen so far.

The why of it we understood.

Absolute power corrupted absolutely.

Tomorrow, I would make a point of revisiting old articles and stories about the various senators and representatives resting in their graves. Every time I snooped through the media reports, I learned something new.

Some had fallen prey to vigilantes, or so we believed.

Others had fallen prey to mysterious forces nobody was willing to speculate over—at least in public.

Once on the top floor, I considered Bradley through narrowed eyes.

“You have thoughts, and you don’t like them,” he observed, tucking my box under his arm long enough to unlock the door. “How many pennies will I need to pay for them?”

“I’ll accept removed clothes as currency later,” I informed him in a solemn tone. “After we deal with these wretched thoughts, I will need a distraction. I’m sure you can provide.”

“I am prepared to sacrifice my body for the cause.” Once we were both inside, he put on a show of locking the door. “Are you in the mood for tub, candles, and romance or a struggle?”

Bradley enjoyed both modes of evening indulgence, so I took my time considering my options. “Can we explore both? Tub and candles as a precursor for a struggle?”

“We certainly can. So, what sort of old books did Senator Thaddens gift to you? You are clutching that box as though it contains a priceless treasure.”

“These, sir, are two codices written during Emperor Hadrian’s reign of the Roman Empire, detailing all of his architectural exploits. There are blueprints of his buildings in here, sir. And Senator Thaddens is going to email me copies of all the pages so I can try to build models of everything.” I engaged him in a staring contest. “Sir.”

Bradley’s eyes widened, and his gaze fixed on the box. “You’re surely joking.”

“I am not. I even know how much he paid for them, and we’re going to have to take out an insurance policy for them.”

“Dare I ask?”

“A million per.” I hugged the box close. “A politician loves me, Bradley. They’re quite possibly the most beautiful things I’ve touched in my life, and they are mine.”

“Do you even know how to build models?”

I shook my head.

“Well, I guess we’ll discuss how to build models over dinner, and then I will reward my librarian for a job well done. Is there anything I should know?”