Page 192 of To Catch a Sub

“I’m an orphan. Since I was five.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “There was no close relative to take me, or maybe no one was willing. A friend of my father’s petitioned to become my guardian.”

An uneasy feeling rolled over Landon. “Friend?”

“That’s what he said. I think maybe they were business partners. Not really friends.” Colette shook her head, her voice low as she alternated between looking at his grandparents and staring down at the table.

“But he adopted you?”

“Not adopted. He was my guardian.” She looked over, her smile weak. “He taught me to be a thief.”

“Was your father a thief?”

“I don’t know. If he was, he was never arrested.”

“Like father, like daughter.”

“Maybe,” she said with a soft laugh. “But I was never…I never had anything like this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. For secondary school, I lived in. At the boarding school. I wanted to become an art restorationist.” Her smile was genuine now. “Or maybe work for Cartier, and design jewelry for very rich people.”

All the time they’d spent together, and he’d never asked her about her childhood, or how she’d ended up becoming a thief. He’d known about the boarding school from looking into her past, but figured her wealthy parents had sent her there.

“But I was poor, and living at school didn’t mean I didn’t need money,” Colette said softly.

“I’m guessing your guardian wasn’t helping?”

“No. But he’d taught me how to be where I shouldn’t be, and take what I needed. I’d been doing it since I was small—a child both makes a good thief, and is a good distraction.”

“Fucking arsehole.”

“I was fifteen when I planned my first solo job. And pulled it off.”

He didn’t ask what she’d taken, because he didn’t care. This story was about survival, and a woman who’d been effectively on her own since she was young.

He was reminded again how hard it must have been for her to come to him for help and protection.

“When I was seventeen, I met Nilus. My guardian introduced us.”

“Nilus?”

She lowered her voice. “The man who trained me.”

Landon put his hand on her knee under the table. She laid her own atop it, and he flipped his palm up, lacing their fingers together.

“Don’t look so sad,” she said. “I enjoy what I do. Planning the heist, pulling it off. It’s thrilling.”

“And dangerous.”

“Sometimes.”

He didn’t want to admit it, but he could picture what she described. He’d never met someone in law-enforcement who hadn’t at one point insisted they’d planned the perfect crime, be it theft or murder. It was a game of wits and skill.

Nana and Nani bustled over, both carrying trays that looked far too heavy for them. Landon leapt up to help them. Once they were all seated, and tea poured, Nana looked at Colette.