Maybe her family’s killers had sought this all along?

Thorpe dropped a comforting hand on her thigh, then looked his way. “Have any other ideas about how we might get this open?”

Sean winced. “As much as I hate to use more muscle on an object like this, I don’t know what else to do.” If there was nothing important about the egg itself or what might be inside, they were at a dead end. And he wouldn’t know how else to give Callie hope. “I’ve got a multi-tool with me. We can start there.”

Thorpe nodded. “Let’s do it. I’ll see if Werner keeps any tools lying around that might help, too. Callie, clear the table and put the dishes in the sink.”

She nodded. Sean watched Thorpe squeeze her hand before he disappeared from the room, presumably to search for Werner’s Craftsman collection on the boat, likely near the engine. He watched her forlorn face as she stared at the egg and touched it wistfully. He could plainly see how much it reminded her of the parent she’d loved and lost so young.

Jogging to the bedroom to pull the multi-tool from his bag, he grabbed a few other things and returned to find Callie rooted to the same spot.

He eased down into the chair beside her. “Lovely?”

“What if this doesn’t work? What if it’s nothing more than a pricey egg? If it’s empty and of no value to whoever is after me—”

“Then we examine all the evidence again. We keep trying. I refuse to fail. I will not give up until you’re safe. Do you hear me, Callie?”

She responded immediately to the sterner note in his voice with a valiant little nod. “Thank you, Sean.”

“Is that who I am to you now?” He pulled her collar from his pocket and dangled the glittering white gold with its petite lock from his finger, directly in her face. Something less delicate was more customary perhaps, but it didn’t suit her. “Is it?”

Hope lit her eyes. “No, Sir.”

“I mean to fasten this around your neck again. You should never have removed it in the first place. Believe me, I never relinquished you from our bond in my mind or heart. So you best not be doing that either, lovely.”

“I tried to,” she admitted in a soft, broken voice. “But I couldn’t. You’re impossible to stop loving.”

The words were difficult for her to speak, and he loved her all the more for finding the courage to say them. “If you want it back, ask me.”

Callie scooted closer and looked at him with earnest blue eyes in her naked face. Even without all the black eyeliner and glittering shadow, she was stunning. His own eyes were a darker shade than the crystal Caribbean waters hers resembled. He wanted to drown there.

“Please, Sir, will you return my collar to me?” She ended her plea with a submissive bow of her head.

Sean drew in a huge gulp of air. As much as Callie had been forced to fend for herself most of her life, she wore her armor of independence with pride. She fought making herself vulnerable—despite how badly she wanted and needed to. He sensed the soft side of her that craved not just a lover, but someone she could rely on day in and day out for the rest of her life.

He would stand in front of her, never wavering, until she knew he meant to be that man. Then he would marry her and never leave her side.

But one thing Sean knew for certain: whether she was the fiercely independent Callie Ward or the more vulnerable Callindra Howe, she would never ask to belong to a man unless she not only cared, but trusted him.

Elation swirled through him as he tipped her chin up to him. “Will you remove the collar again without first talking to me?”

“No, Sir.”

“Will you finally put yourself in my care and believe that I will always see to your needs?”

She blinked up at him solemnly. “Yes, Sir.”

Sean cupped her face in his hands. The room was heavy with their connection. Gravity weighted each word she spoke. In retrospect, the first time he’d offered Callie a collar, she’d given him a saucy wink and a sway of her hips with her “yes.” Now he saw that it hadn’t been an invitation to touch her, but a way to keep emotional distance between them. She hadn’t taken him seriously then.

Her reaction now couldn’t be more different. And he was so proud to have earned her heart.

“On your knees, lovely.” He glanced at the floor. “Bow your head.”

She sent him one last clinging stare with those big eyes, a silent plea that he treat her fragile heart well. Then she slid to the vinyl floor gracefully and dipped her head low.

Sean unclasped the collar and fixed it around her neck, settling the bit of bling in place. The action was silent, but the importance of the moment shouted through his system. Callie was his again. And she would stay that way.

As he bent to kiss the crown of her head, Thorpe clambered to the door and stopped short, clutching a little bag of tools. He fixed his stare on Callie, his face stricken. The man swallowed. Pain gathered in the furrow of his down-slashed brows, his eyes darkening with something that looked a lot like anguish.

Sean frowned. The girl had always been his submissive. Seeing his collar around her neck shouldn’t be new for Thorpe. Since the man had completely refused to claim her in any way for years, why should he begrudge anyone who did? Or expect Callie not to seek happiness? But he understood Thorpe’s fear that the woman he loved was slipping through his fingers. Sean knew he couldn’t change Thorpe’s mind for him, but he could leave the door open as long as Callie needed him.

“I found a hammer and a chisel.” Thorpe said finally, his voice sounding scratchy, strained. He set the bag on the table. “We’ll use them as a last resort. I’m sure Callie would rather not break the egg.”

She whipped her head around and scrambled to her feet. She looked braced for Thorpe’s anger or a fight. The man did his best to give her a gentle smile. The expression was a bit rusty from disuse, but Callie relaxed.

Sean pulled her beside him. “Let’s start with this little blade.” He held up one of the ends of his multi-tool. “I’ll try to wedge it into the space where the two halves of the egg meet. The piece is obviously well crafted, so I’m not sure we’ll actually be able to work anything in there. But it’s worth a try.”

He focused completely, tuning the other two out to try to shove the thin blade into the nearly nonexistent gap. He only succeeded in bending the little knife. They tried taking some household chemicals to the ridge where the two halves met until the galley smelled like they’d been spring cleaning. They paused, then inspected it again. Nothing.

With a sigh, Sean accepted the notion that they might actually have to damage the multimillion dollar egg. It was an expensive gamble. “If this is simply wedged shut, rather than holding something important, you realize that we’ll have ruined a historically significant object that could keep you living plushly for the rest of your life for no reason?”

She blinked at him. “Unless I can figure out why someone wants me dead, I can’t come out of hiding to sell the object and live off the proceeds. And if I do stop this person or people, then I stand to inherit my father’s estate. And even independent of that, he left money in trust for me.”

Sean stepped back, a bit stunned. Callie’s words made perfect sense, but he hadn’t really put two and two together to consider her net worth once the smoke cleared. Her father had been a multi-billionaire, all his money carefully and successfully invested at the time of his death. The funds had been frozen since, presumably pending Callie being cleared of wrongdoing . . . or found guilty of murder. Some of her father’s favorite charities and supposed friends had begun legal plays to petition the courts for the Howe funds, but the local police had refused to declare Callie dead with so much evidence to the contrary. They seemed convinced she was the most likely suspect, despite shaky evidence. But Sean also knew they were grasping at straws because they had nothing else.

Given all that, if the money remained invested as it had been that October, it should still be a very sizeable fortune—somewhere north of five billion dollars a year ago. The market had been fairly stable since then. Holy shit.

“Sean?”

He’d had a billionaire’s daughter kneeling on the floor at his feet—the son of an unwed teenage mother and a philandering soldier with a girl in every military town. Instantly, Sean had a knee-jerk reaction to apologize to Callie, but he checked it. They weren’t defined by their pasts or their bank accounts. They’d chosen one another because they clicked. They stayed together because they were in love. He didn’t give a shit if her bank balance had ten zeroes or none.

“You didn’t know that?” Thorpe looked at him as if Callie’s inheritance was obvious. Because it was. For a moment, he felt like an idiot.

“Yeah, I did. It’s not relevant. I guess that means we’ll be doing whatever we have to in order to pry the blasted thing open.”

“Hammer and chisel it is,” Thorpe quipped and prowled through the bag on the table until he came up with the right tools.

“Try not to break it. It really is sentimental for me.”

“I’ll do my best,” Thorpe said grimly.

With that, he set the chisel against the faint line that bisected the egg and tapped on it as gently as he could. The sound filled the little room to overflowing. Sean winced, not wanting to think about what sort of damage they were doing to the artifact. Metal scraped metal in a high-pitched squeak that made him wince.

After the next tap of the hammer, Callie hissed. Thorpe swore softly. Sean peered between them and saw a little dent in the gold of the rim—along with a small gap. With another tap, this one gentler, the two halves eased apart a bit.