"How much money?"
"Millions. The new piece I'm thinking of is a massive abstract commissioned from a Cuban artist. Cost Adrian maybe a hundred grand to produce. Appraised at one point five million."
He whistles low. "And the artist?"
"Paid, happy, thinks Adrian's a patron of the arts. Has no idea his work is being used to clean blood money."
"Smart." Saint's hands slide up my thighs, but it's absent. He's thinking. "What's Adrian going to do with this particular piece?"
"Use it as collateral for a land purchase from another family. He's trying to shore up his territory, push the Russians back. This painting is the collateral for the deal. If it disappears…" I smile. "The deal falls apart. The Russians get pissed when they find out, and Adrian looks weak."
Saint's eyes gleam. "I knew you were smart, but this is—" He shakes his head. "This is exactly what I need."
Satisfaction blooms in my chest. "There's more."
I flip to another page. A diagram of the gallery basement.
"The vault is here." I point. "Climate controlled, reinforced walls. The security code is 1-9-7-8-3-2. It resets every six months, but Adrian's predictable. He'll use another date."
"Guards?"
"Two on night rotation. They switch at two AM. There's a fifteen-minute window during changeover where the monitoring room is only staffed by one person. He takes a smoke break at two-thirty. Every night. Like clockwork." I flip to another diagram. "Cameras here, here, and here. But there's a blind spot in the northeast corner near the loading dock. The camera angles don't quite overlap, and it normally wouldn't matter, but we can make it work to our advantage."
Saint is staring at me. "You have all this memorized?"
"I designed half of it. The rest I helped install." I tap the journal. "This is just my notes from before the wedding. I knew Adrian might change things after, so I documented everything."
"Gemma." His voice is different now. Impressed. "This is—a little insane."
I smile, feeling bold. Powerful. "I see systems. Patterns. How things connect. It's why Bianca wanted me in the business. At first, anyway."
The way he's looking at me makes my breath catch. Not like I'm a vessel for his heir. Not like I'm an obligation. Like I'm valuable.
"The painting's location?" he asks.
"Second floor, east wing. It's being held there until the deal goes through next month." I meet his eyes. "If you're going to do this, you need to move fast. Once it's sold, it's gone, and Adrian has the funds he needs."
His thumb traces my bottom lip. "You're sure about this? Once we do it, there's no going back. Adrian will lose his fucking mind."
"Good." And I mean it. "Let him lose his mind. Let him feel what it's like to have something taken from him."
Saint studies me for a long moment, and I hold my breath, worried he's going to back out. Then he nods.
"Alright, princess. Let's fuck your brother over."
I smile. Close the journal. "I have more details. Guard names, insurance protocols, everything you'll need."
"Later." He grips my hips, and I realize he's hardening again inside me. "Right now, I want to enjoy the rest of this mutual benefit situation."
Heat pools low in my belly. "Insatiable."
"You started it." He rolls us, pinning me beneath him. "Waking me up by riding my cock. What did you expect?"
"Exactly this," I breathe as he starts to move.
And as he fucks me into the mattress, his mouth on my neck, my hands gripping his shoulders, I realize something.
I'm not just surviving anymore.
