Jillian had taken a big risk leaving the ring in his hands. He could be on the wrong side. He might have given her a few items as collateral but, for all she knew, they could be worthless.

  She glanced at the golden trumpet. It didn’t look like a trumpet of angels, yet in its plainness was its power.

  Her desk phone beeped and the receptionist came over the intercom. “Ms. Whitmore,” she blared. “Dr. Crawford would like to see you in his office.”

  Jillian winced.

  She didn’t want to face him, but she had to. Her grandparents deserved restitution.

  “And it’s Doctor Whitmore,” she said, though the line had already gone dead.

  Hard work, plus a double doctorate in Art and History had earned her the right to that title.

  “Saved by the bell.” Denise grinned, at the same time her phone beeped with a text message. “I gotta get back to the lab. We’ll finish this discussion later.”

  Denise left and Jillian took a second to smooth her hands over her hair, checking her chignon, then pushed up her glasses. They were only for reading, and probably ruining her eyesight because she wore them all the time, but they’d become an indispensable part of her wardrobe. A prop she couldn’t go without.

  She stood at her desk, hesitating. She dreaded a confrontation with Jonathon, but it was long overdue. Out her window, she watched the traffic passing by on the street, the late afternoon sun reflecting off the cars. He’d taken everything she loved, he’d taken her life, and she was going to take it back.

  ***

  Would it have killed her to call him when she’d returned?

  Jonathon moved at a brisk pace through the hallways as he passed the museum’s administrative offices. The rich sound of his Italian leather shoes on the marble floors echoed off the walls and high ceilings—like an impending announcement of his presence. Even if he wasn’t seen, he was noticed.

  Jillian had been gone for hours. The detective had called him to let him know she was leaving with the ring. Where had she gone between the police station and the museum?

  He had to have the ring.

  Jonathon had to quit waiting and make his move. The planets were aligning and the Equinox would arrive in a few days. Time was running out. He hadn’t planned on taking so long to get the ring, but finding Jillian had been an unexpected surprise. Her beauty and pedigree, combined with her intelligence, made her a desirable match for a man of his high standards. He didn’t just want to take her, he wanted to lure her to his side.

  It was not proving to be a casual seduction, but a woman like her would be worth the wait. He would make her see how perfect they were for each other. How well their personal traits and habit for hard work would complement their union.

  Before he got to her office, he pictured her handing him the ring, her eyes full of somber resignation. Then she’d beg him for mercy, beg him to take her and keep her safe from the world.

  His protection came at a high price. One she would soon learn.

  Saturday night, during the gala opening, he would disappear with Jillian and all three rings and begin preparations for the ritual the following night.

  Then the world would be his for the taking.

  He barged into Jillian’s office without bothering to knock. He didn’t care if it upset her sense of propriety. It was his museum, and she was his employee. No one there cared to show him any respect, so he had to take what he was owed.

  He found her standing at the window behind her desk, facing out to Lafayette Street, the late afternoon sun casting a subtle glow over her slender figure. She appeared to be deep in thought. When she didn’t turn to greet him, he cleared his throat in annoyance.

  “What is it, Jonathon?” she asked absently, still staring out the window.

  The sunlight illuminated her blonde hair and soft skin, and it struck Jonathon just how beautiful she was. A century ago, her grandfather would have given her over to him in his Will, along with his other property. If he had known she would turn out to be so complex and fascinating, he might have tried.

  Instead she had the absurd notion that she should be running the museum. A woman. It was preposterous.

  He sat on the edge of her desk. “You haven’t answered my phone calls,” he said. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  He quickly scanned the notes and messages on her desk with furtive glances, looking for anything she might be hiding. Aside from her daily work, only the calendar on her desk changed with each month.

  “I had a last minute offer for the exhibit,” she said, turning from the window to look at him, her face lit by a smile. “The pieces are amazing.”

  “What pieces?” Jonathon didn’t like surprises.

  Not at the last minute.

  “Over here.” She walked around her desk and over to the sofa, where she picked up a piece of wood from the cushion. “I can’t believe we’ll really have a cross relic for the exhibit.”

  Annoyed immediately, he knew Jillian was too smart to fall for something that was obviously a fake. He’d been watching her very closely as she worked on finalizing the exhibit with a meticulous attention to detail.

  “Do you truly mean to pass off that fabled legend as truth?” he asked. “In your family’s museum?”

  “It’s your museum now.” Her smile grew wider, but there was no emotion behind it.

  The tension between them increased.

  “Did you get the ring back today?” He itched to get his hands on the ruby.

  It was the final piece.

  In only a few short moments, he would have the last of the three rings, and the Illuminati would take their rightful place on Earth, with him among their esteemed ranks. For centuries, the Order of the Illuminati—the Enlightened Ones—had been behind the scenes, dictating the fate of mankind. They controlled everything from world leaders, to war, to the food supply and weather.

  Now the Supreme Vision was in motion, about to be realized. Everything was in place, and they were ready to unleash the Dark Lord from his prison. He would make them powerful, immortal, just as they deserved.

  Jonathon brimmed with anxious excitement. He was so close to grasping his dream.

  “I did get the ring,” she answered. “And I’ve traded it.”

  He couldn’t have heard her right. “Excuse me?”

  How did she not have the ring?

  “Well, I know how dedicated you are to the museum because you loved my grandparents so much, and I decided to show my appreciation by getting you a couple of pieces that will make the exhibit really stand out.”

  Jonathon rose from her desk. “Where is the ring?”

  The time for indulging Jillian was over. He’d been more than patient with her whims. He could have had Detective O’Malley simply take the ring and give it to him, but he’d wanted to see Jillian come to him, ready and willing to place their future in his hand.

  “Where is the ring?” He clenched his hands at his sides.

  If he had his tools he’d get the information he wanted. Imagining her tender flesh under the cool steel, the red rise of blood, his excitement warred with his anger.

  “I traded the ring to Mr. Smith for the cross relic, and this.” She lifted the golden horn next. “It belonged to the angels.”

  “You were to bring the ring directly to me. Why would you trade it to Mr. Smith?”

  “He expressed his interest in the ring yesterday when I showed him the exhibit.”

  Jonathon had a feeling the man was a threat, and letting him get to Jillian had been his second mistake.

  “Can’t you see these pieces are fake?” he raged, unable to believe she’d been so overcome by stupidity. “You can’t expect to put them on display as anything other than conjecture.”

  “Actually, that was my idea. I thought we could have a special display at the end and let people choose what they want to believe. It will add a sort of mystical element, don’t you think?”

  Jonathon could only stare at her, his temper raging beneath the surface. “What happened to the practical, logical Jillian I knew? Two days ago you never would have considered cheapening your exhibit with mysticism.”

  “What if it’s true?” She held up the golden horn. “What if the angels really did blow this trumpet before they destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah? Why did they destroy the city? It got me thinking, and I want people to leave the exhibit with something to think about. The ring is nothing compared to this.” She set the trumpet on her desk.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Jonathon should be holding the ring, his role serving The Order completed, not listening to how Jillian had traded it for worthless junk. Either she didn’t know the true value of the ring, or she was lying.

  It no longer mattered. The real threat was Winston Smith.

  “Did Mr. Smith say why he wanted the ring?”

  “I assumed he wanted it for his collection. He has some amazing pieces.”

  “He showed you his collection?” Jonathon didn’t like where this might be heading.

  What else had he shown her while they were alone in his house?

  It wasn’t right. Jillian was his woman and, when she finally gave herself over to him, her surrender would be a thing of beauty. A woman with her qualities was worth the extra effort.

  But it was time to take a different tactic. The rules had changed. Jonathon was simply going to have to take what he wanted. The ring, Jillian, and then the world.

  Chapter 10

  For the first time since she had known him, the cold, stark Jonathon Crawford looked truly unstable. His eyes flashed darkly and he vibrated with mounting anger.

  Jillian worried she might have taken her role too far. She’d wanted a reaction from him though, to see if her suspicions were right.

  Boy, were they ever.

  Jonathon radiated a chilling darkness she’d never before encountered. It gave her a sick feeling deep in the pit of her stomach and she almost couldn’t look into his eyes.

  “I’m very disappointed in you, Jillian.” His calm voice belied his anger.

  “I was only trying to make the exhibit better,” she insisted.

  “Screw the damn exhibit!” He slammed his fist down on the top of her desk, startling her.

  He walked towards her, and she wanted to back away from him, but she wouldn’t let him see her fear. She stood her ground as he brought his face only inches from hers.

  “I want the ring,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “It belongs to me.”

  Jillian swallowed past the lump of fear in her throat. “I’m sorry, I thought I was helping. I don’t think Mr. Smith will take the pieces back.”

  The apology seemed to calm him somewhat and he relaxed his shoulders as he retreated a step. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix this. I’ll take care of everything.”

  He smoothed his manicured hands over the black lapels of his designer suit jacket and craned his neck to the side. Rolling back his shoulders, he took one last, frightening look at her before he stormed out of her office.

  Jillian let out a long breath.

  What a relief.

  Knowing he might have gone so far as to kill her grandparents didn’t bode well for her future. And though her life was routine, boring, lonely, she had dreams of running the museum, traveling the world, and falling in love. They were good dreams to have and, without a world, they would all fall apart.

  For that reason she had to keep the ring out of the wrong hands. It was a daunting task, and she prayed Mr. Smith would prove to be trustworthy.

  Her cell phone started ringing and vibrating from the desk. A New York number and Mr. Smith’s name showed up on the screen and, in the box where his picture should be, there was a big, black question mark.

  Yep.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “I told you to call me as soon as it was over,” his husky, accented voice came smooth and deep over the phone.

  “He just left my office. I was going to call you.”

  “Next time, call me immediately.”

  “Geez, what is it with you men? I understand you want to know what he said, but—”

  “I wanted to know you were all right, Ms. Whitmore.”

  “What if I wasn’t?” she challenged, sticking her hand on her hip. “You couldn’t get here fast enough to be of any help.”

  “I could get to you in an instant if I had to.”

  Could he?

  “Now, how did our boy react to the news?”

  “Not too good.” That was putting it mildly. “He got pretty upset and said he would take care of everything, then he just left.”

  “We’ve rattled him. All we have to do is wait. You made it clear that I had the ring?”

  “Quite clear,” she said. “I don’t think he likes you very much.”

  “Good, we need him to act on his emotions. It will make him sloppy.”

  “He’s definitely emotional.” A cold shiver spread through her as she remembered the furious look in his eyes. “What do we do next?”

  “What time does the museum close?”

  “Five-thirty, why?”

  “Leave as usual,” he instructed. “Go home, don’t change your routine. Lock all your doors and windows, and call me if anything happens.”

  “And then what?”

  Was she just supposed to sit at home?

  “Go to work in the morning. I’ll come down to the museum.”

  Jillian couldn’t deny she’d like to see him again. Kiss him. Feel his hands on her, heavy and warm. What was he like in bed?

  Her fantasies took a wicked, sinful turn, right into the bedroom. Heat bloomed in her chest, spreading out. She could have had sex with him earlier that afternoon. Right on top of his desk. In a room full of golden, heavenly treasure.

  No.

  Stay focused.

  She still wasn’t certain Mr. Smith could be trusted.

  And how would they have sex when they weren’t even calling each other by their first names?

  “The museum opens at ten,” she said. “What time should I expect you?”

  “What time do you get in?”

  “Eight-thirty.”

  “When does Jonathon get in?”

  Her fantasy took a turn right back into everyday reality. He wasn’t coming to see her, he was coming to see Jonathon.

  “He gets in at ten,” she said, deflated.

  The angle of her keyboard looked off and she moved it around on the desk.

  “Does he ever come in early?”

  “No, never.”

  “Good. I’ll meet you at eight-thirty,” his voice was low and smooth. “I want to search Jonathon’s office, and that will give me plenty of time.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “We are looking for anything that might tell us what he’s up to, or who he’s working with.”

  “You want me to help you?” Jillian had never broken into anything before.

  “I was under the impression that we were partners.”

  “We are.” And she meant it.

  He was a good partner to have. Handsome and brave. Strong.

  And a total mystery.

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Jillian smiled faintly, wondering what he would be doing tonight while she sat alone in her apartment, worrying about the end of the world.

  “And Ms. Whitmore?” His deep voice rumbled her name.

  “Yes?”

  “Wear something black and sexy tonight. I want to think about what you would look like while I’m resting in my bed.”

  He hung up.

  She was glad he had, because her whole body flooded with hot, heady desire, leaving her unable to speak. She pictured him wearing much less to bed and knew her fantasies wouldn’t do a man like that justice. He was intense, masculine, sexual.

  And it appeared he had some fantasies of his own.

  Chapter 11

  Several hours later Jillian opened the door to her loft apartment and stepped into the tiled entryway with a heavy sigh. She tossed her purse and keys onto the half-moon table by the coat closet, opened the closet door and hung her bags of dry cleaning inside, then she shut and locked the front door behind her, glad to be home.

  Her apartment was dark, silent, and she flipped on the light overhead. As she pulled off her black high heels a flash of sadness filled her, and the lonely silence rang in her ears. Every night she came home to an empty house, shuffled into her bedroom to change, opened a bottle of wine, ate something for dinner, watched television while she called Denise, then went to bed. The same routine was getting boring, but it was necessary.

  Doing the same thing to yield the same desired result calmed her, and that was a good thing, because most of the time she felt like she was on the verge of letting go and she didn’t quite know what exactly it was she had to let go of.

  Unpredictability was her enemy. A familiar, established pattern grounded her, kept her focused and in control.

  When had her life changed, becoming nothing but one long, endless routine?

  At twenty-eight, Jillian wanted something more, and she didn’t even know if the world would last long enough for her to start any kind of new venture. By that way of thinking, her self-imposed sabbatical from life didn’t fit so well.

  How much more time would she waste stuck in limbo?

  After Kevin had so cruelly manipulated her, twisting her words and her thoughts, making her doubt everything, even herself, she had closed out the world. Now, she felt like she had the strength to let it back in again. Maybe time really did heal all wounds.

  Jillian had just been waiting to find inspiration from life, someone or something to make her want to step out again. To open her heart to love.

  Enter Mr. Smith. His timing was impeccable. The irresistibly sexy man had appeared out of nowhere like the answer to a dream, charging into her life on a white horse, sword raised, ready to protect and defend her. Like a damn fairy tale.

  He was either the answer to a prayer or a practiced liar. Jillian wanted to believe in love and dreams coming true, in destiny, but she might be out of time.

  Could the world really end?