Rich bitch taste.
Will began to move through the crowd, sliding along as slick as a snake in the grass. He could vaguely hear the tiny clicks in the glasses he was wearing, purely ornamental when it came to his vision—no, these were all about enhancingReed’svision, studded with micro-cameras that the other man could use to get a wider view of the room.
“—referring tocubism, of course, which in my opinion is one of the finest forms of post-impressionistic artwork in?—”
“Mother of God,” Will muttered. Mrs. Dalton had been opining about cubism where he could unfortunately hear her for the past hour. “If that’s where things are headin’, I’m getting out of the art world for good.”
Reed snickered, and Will counted it as a win. He stopped and held back for a moment as the older woman’s escort left her side, and—ah. It was Cole. As pretty as ever, even though he had to be pushing forty now. And really, what was four measly decades to the rich? They were all biohacking their way to eternal life, weren’t they? Regardless, he looked good enough to eat in his tailored tux, dark hair slicked back and expression appropriately apologetic as he veered away from his hellion of a mother. He was by far the most attractive man in this room tonight.
Too bad he was as crazy as a bucket of possums and had twice the attitude.
“Hold back a bit,” Reed said. “We don’t want you to get into talking range of Dalton unless you absolutely have to, or this whole thing could go up in flames.”
“I can talk to Cole Dalton just fine,” Will retorted around the rim of his champagne glass.
“Yeah. Sure.”
Hecould.Just because it didn’t go well last time, or the time before that, or the time before that, which admittedly was the time Cole had barged in on Marcus and Will banging over the side of the couch, but how was Will to know Cole and Marcus were still together? That wasn’t what Marcus had said when he’d come on to Will like a cat in heat. And sue Will for being interested in a hot guy that liked to have fun, and seemed to especially like having fun with Will.
Not so fun when he was using Will as a meat shield against his furious boyfriend, though.
So over, we’re totally exes—bullshit.
Whatever, it was in the past. At least Cole had a legitimate reason to be here, being one of the wealthy elite himself. Will had picked out two more thieves apart from them so far, which—it was to be expected. Chances to fleece billionaires of theirpiles of exquisite art didn’t come along every day. In particular, bonehead billionaires who flaunted their originals.
Will started moving again, brushing in and amongst the pockets of people with an ease that spoke of belonging. It was so, so hard to resist picking pockets while he worked his way through the crowd, but he had to remind himself there were much bigger fish to fry here. Just one of the pieces from Harry James Alders’ collection would be enough to set the seller up for life. Sure, they were all so unique as to be impossible to sell via a reputable auction house, but there was a thriving black market for notable art amongst the ultra-rich of the world. Plenty of them would paymorebecause they knew a piece was stolen from Alders, who was exceptionally grotesque in his conspicuous consumption.
There was a lot to like about what was up on the walls and in the cases, but one piece stood out to Will—the Iberian Puffin. It was one of the most gorgeous and understated statues he’d ever seen, or would have been if not for the enormous pink diamond in the middle of the bird’s chest. Taste giving way to excess yet again, but there was something oddly compelling about it too.
“It’s the best piece in the entire collection,” Marcus had airily informed Will the last time they’d spoken. They hadn’t fucked for years now, but every so often one or the other of them reached out with information—kept the pipes unblocked, as it were. “Not just for the raw materials that went into its creation or the style, but because it’s got the best story.”
It did have a good story, full of pathos and adventure and mystery. It was the story that caught Will; the Iberian Puffin had been created with good intentions, then passed from person to person via money, violence, and neglect. There was something about it that felt a little similar to Will’s own history. Not to mention, if he could get the Puffin out of here—and hecould—before anyone else, he’d up his personal legend in the community.
Will paused beside a pair of Kahlo paintings. “How’re we looking for our distraction?”
“It’s still on,” Reed said into his earpiece, “but you should know that someone has accessed the sprinkler system in the past twelve hours, and I think they tapped the fire alarm too.”
Of course they did.
That meant Will was working on someone else’s schedule, which—fuck it, he could deal with that. “Any other surprises in the works?”
“Hmm.” Reed sounded thoughtful. “Just… there are a number of guests who don’t align with the approved list. And it wasn’tthathard to get on the list. I mean, we gotyouon it, so…”
“Ouch.”
“I’m just saying, it’s weird. I’d expect Alders to be more cautious about who he let in to see all his treasures.”
Will frowned. “Reporters?”
“No, those are official; I already clocked them. Almost ten people… listen, I need to double-check some things. Don’t go until I tell you.”
“Time’s a-wastin’, Reed.”
“Yeah, and your brother will hunt me down and murder me if I let you go down in flames, so calm down and let me work.”
Aw.“Baby Boy would never murder you,” Will cooed. “You were his buddy first, after all.”
“Yeah. That’s how I know he’d kill me, throw my body into a woodchipper, and feed me to his pigs if you get hurt. Just hold off.”
