No telling who might be listening, I don’t say a bloody word. Then, I loosen my jaw muscles and plant a bland expression on my face. Were anyone to size me up, they’d see another entitled, jet-setter, not a pickpocket’s apprentice.
While we sip our amber liquid, Dad makes light conversation. “So, how goes the war between you, and your pilot, Latrisha?”
Alistair hasn’t forgotten a thing in thirty years. This is yet another attempt to get a rise out of me. “Her name is Lanita, and she’s fine.”
“You keep checking your phone. Do I detect a rotten apple in the garden of Eden?” He hates the fact I’m settling down. No doubt, he’s worried he’ll lose his favorite patsy.
“Lovely. Everything in paradise, is bleedin’ perfect.” As soon as this is over, I am quitting his nonsense, forever.
A chink in my armor detected, he raises one gray brow. “You’ve set a date for the wedding, eh? Let me know and I’ll clear my calendar. After tonight, I’ll be extremely busy.”
His snicker causes my seething to boil over, but I manage to keep my voice pleasant. “You’ll be the first to know.”
“Your woman is still skittish, despite accepting the ring?” His question holds a note of sincerity, so I answer in kind.
“Aye, she’s stubborn, and her tendency to become embroiled in sticky situations worries me.” As my drink warms my esophagus, the alcohol kicks in, and his cocky grin becomes somewhat less annoying.
“Sounds to me like the pot is claiming the pan has a burnt arse.” My old man is way too perceptive, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of being spot on.
The gleam in his eye, the mocking tone, and the damn bracelet, almost set me off. “Enough, da. I’m not addicted to… whatever this is.”
I roll my eyes at my father’s wink. “Me thinks thou protests too much.”
“Me thinks you should mind your own bloody business. How about we change the subject? So, how’re things at MI6?” My friend, Oliver, keeps me in the loop. I know for a fact, they’re unhappy and keep him on a short tether.
The larcenous man chuckles under his breath. “British Intelligence and I came to a mutual agreement. I will no longer engage in my hobbies, occasionally do a job for them, and now we’re right as rain.”
My God, they told him to stop stealing and yet he continues. The man has no scruples, not even when it comes to king and country. Despite being annoyed, I grin. He will never change. The bloody wanker enjoys being a robber.
Am I just like him?
If not for the bracelet in my pocket, I’d leave. I have no interest in hobnobbing, as in lady-this and lord-that, while discussing trivial gossip. After my mom died, I left the life of privilege behind and never looked back.
Scotland Yard circles the room, questioning everyone. Eventually, a sixtyish bobby approaches the bar where we stand. He ignores my father and speaks directly to me.
“Good evening. Answer me a couple quick questions, if you wouldn’t mind, sir?”
I nod. “Please, by all means.”
“Very good, gov’ner. Can you tell me ‘ow you came to be invited to this little soiree?” His hint of cockney doesn’t fool me. At his age, I’m guessing he speaks the queen’s English perfectly, and is using the accent to put me at ease.
Pointing to my parent, I explain, “Well, he’s the social butterfly, sir. A bit of a rent boy, if you catch my meaning.”
At being called a gigolo, my dad feigns indignation. “My son exaggerates, what he means-”
The copper’s patience snaps without warning. “How about you get stuffed and let me ask the bloody questions?”
Palms out, my dad is the picture of innocence. “Of course, please continue.”
“How did you receive your invitation?”
“No secret there. The Montclairs are well-known for charitable giving.” Father pulls a cellphone from his tux and scrolls through pictures of orphaned kids. “We nurture them, educate them, and help them well into their twenties.”
“You do realize, over the past several years. you’ve been at fifty percent of the parties where items were taken.”
In truth, he’s been at every one of them. “So have most of these people. Bit of a tight-knit group, we are.”
The officer turns to me. “And you?”
