Dagger of LUST
Alexandra Maxwell
Copyright © 2020 by Alexandra Maxwell
www.romancesisters.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names of characters and incidences portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
The author has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracies of the URLs for external or third-party Internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee any content on such website.
This book is written for the romance genre and contains some explicit scenes. It is intended for those 18 and over.
Love, love, love my baby sister Kara Maxwell
My partner in mischief and forever best friend
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
About the Author
Also by Alexandra Maxwell
Meet My Sister Kara Maxwell
By Kara Maxwell
Free Gift from Alexandra Maxwell
1
Tara Samuels couldn't think of any other place she'd rather be than walking around the venerable Museum of Vintage Arts in New York City. As the youngest female curator of the prestigious institution, her job filled her with purpose. She was a fast-rising star, but at this point, she felt lucky to have a job at all.
The stately rooms of the museum hold elaborate collections painstakingly culled from the most sought-after collections from all over the world. The ability to view such magnificent objects, paintings, and sculptures gave Tara an unspeakable sense of pride that most people would never understand. Her heels clicked softly across the marbled floors as she approached the exhibit room with an enormous ‘Coming Soon’ banner draped across the entryway.
A security guard, Charles, stood unmoving next to the banner with his steely glare surveying the hall where Tara stopped to eye the empty space of what used to hold a six hundred-year-old vase from China. Flashes of the incident wracked her mind as she cleared her throat, hoping for some conversation from the guard to humanize the moment and break her discomfort.
“Good morning, Charles,” she nodded and stood next to him. She fidgeted in a way that made standing still look awkward without a single idea of what to do with her arms or hands.
“Morning, Miss Samuels,” Charles returned the polite pleasantry with an aggravated sigh.
Tara was well aware of how the staff felt about her after her recent blunder. She'd been deemed too cheerful for New York City mornings. Now she felt like a replaceable cog in the museum machine. Yet, she tried.
“I think it might rain today,” she volunteered to the guard who simply grunted in reply. She pressed on, “If it rains, I’m going to order lunch from the ramen place. Would you like to have lunch? I can get you something too. We can talk about this new exhibit…”
"No, thank you," Charles told her abruptly, cutting her off and redirecting his gaze from her to the empty space beyond her.
Rejection churned in the pit of her stomach. It was eerily quiet. There wasn’t anyone in the museum. Most mornings were reserved for throngs of high school and middle schoolers on field trips. Her incident marred the museum’s policy to grant access to groups of students under the age of 16.
Inept and unwanted are the only words Tara could find to describe the emotions consuming her, threatening to keel her over at the waist with a full-blown panic attack. It’s mornings like this where her father’s voice echoed in her head, ‘You need a real job, Tara. Stop staring at paintings and statues all day. It’s a useless pursuit after all the money we spent sending you to school.’
She took several deep breaths, away and out of Charles’ sight, to regain her composure. “I need this job. I want this job. I love this job. I can do this job," she mumbled to herself, unaware of nearby ears.
“I’d certainly hope so,” a voice from behind her responded to her self-proclamations.
Dr. Barrett, her brilliant but ornery supervisor and Director of MoVA, stood a few inches taller than her 5’7 frame. His bald head gleamed under the museum lighting, and his dark eyes held angst when he spoke to her. He was a renowned archaeologist with a gift of juggling the personalities and intricacies of a globally preeminent museum.
“I need to see you in my office, Miss Samuels,” he told her without further explanation. “Now.”
The tone in his voice didn’t help Tara subdue her burgeoning anxiety. It only made her stomach queasier. Dread rippled through her body. A fake fern sat in the corner of the brightly lit office. Her heels sunk into the carpet as she slipped into the chair in front of Barrett’s desk. He sat behind a giant polished mahogany slab with a meticulously organized surface, gathering papers into a folder and setting them in front of her. Tara wondered about the contents.
“Miss Samuels, as you know, your employment here has been called into question over the recent event.”
I understand,” Tara agreed with a sullen expression building in her eyes. She breathed back tears and fought to keep her composure.
Dr. Barrett held his hand up, “The reason you haven’t been released and held responsible for the damages is the fact that the vase was a replica. Mistakes can happen. Fortunately for you, this one was forgivable. That aside, MoVA wants to move in a different direction. We’ve acquired an extraordinary Egyptian dagger and scabbard, its accompanying sheath. Truly exquisite pieces. They are being held by a private benefactor in LA, and the artifacts require private transportation from their current location. We need them in New York in three weeks for the exhibition opening and a fundraising gala
