“This is Miles Conniver. A mutual acquaintance of ours told me that we have a piece of jewelry in common.”
I frown in confusion, because what did he say? “A mutual acquaintance?” Then it hits me. “Oh, did Johnny K find your ring?”
The other end of the line goes silent for long enough that I pull the phone away from my ear to make sure we didn’t get disconnected. “He has. It will be back in my possession within the hour. The ring is what I’d like to speak with you about.”
“Okay,” I drawl out. Honestly, even though I already decided to return the ring to its rightful owner after Griffin told me it was essentially stolen to begin with, I’m still disappointed that I won’t get to work on the gorgeous ring.
“I’ve looked at your work and find it to be quite unique.”
“Oh, uh . . . thank you.”
“I understand you had already created designs for my ring, and I would very much like to see them if you’d be willing to share?”
Excitement shoots through me, but is quickly tempered by my entrepreneurial spirit and business acumen. Plus, a healthy dose of “yeah, sure, buddy,” because that sounds like code for “come into my white panel van and see the cute puppies.” “Of course, I’d be happy to share those with you. For either a consultation fee, if you intend to have another jeweler complete the work, or with a deposit, if you’d like my custom, concierge-level experience from design to completion on the piece.”
Saying that to one of the wealthiest, most powerful people I’ve ever spoken with is truly terrifying. That he chuckles is worrisome. “How much did you pay for the ring initially?”
Normally, I would never tell a customer what I paid for the piece they’re purchasing. Mostly, because it doesn’t matter. What they’re investing in is my vision, my design, my work, my art. This is a unique situation, though. “Ten thousand dollars.”
“One moment.”
My phone dings in my ear, and I pull it away to look at it. There’s a notification at the top of the screen alerting me that I’ve received a $10,000 Zelle payment. I should be over the moon thrilled about thatbecause it’ll clear my credit card balance, but there’s a bigger issue. “How did you do that? How do you know my username?”
“Miss Lee, I can know anything I desire to know.” I hear a smile in his voice, like he finds my confusion and shock to be quite amusing. But he’s all-business when he speaks again. “Now that we’ve handled that, I would like to see your ideas. As I said, the ring will be in my hand within the hour. Depending on your designs, it could be in yours shortly after if you’re available for a commission piece.”
A commission piece for a Mob boss? Definitely not. But how do you say no? And truthfully, I don’t want to say no. My creative muse is begging to get their paws on that ring and reminding me that I promised free rein after that blah-boring but beautiful pink eternity band.
“Okay,” I say, at least 50 percent sure of this plan of action. “When and where?” I figure I can ask Dominic, Griffin, or both of them to come along as my bodyguards. Hell, maybe the whole Hawks team, just to be safe.
“Now. Thomas and Mark have a car waiting for you.”
The bark of laughter that escapes my chest is tinged with hysteria, because there’s absolutely no way that’s happening. “I am not getting into a car with those two. I’d end up on milk cartons, with my parents on the nightly news, begging for my return. Which, by the way, if anything happens to me, the police will be on your doorstep first because lots of people know about the missing ring.Lots of people,” I emphasize. Okay, so it’s more like three—Griffin, Dominic, and Talia, but that doesn’t sound nearly as threatening.
He chuckles again, the sound just as worrisome this time because I’m not exactly known for my top-shelf humor, and his even-keeled voice and formal demeanor don’t make me think he is either. “I mean you no harm, Miss Lee. You have my word, which can be trusted.”
“People, especially men, telling me they’re trustworthy is kind of a big red flag. Especially when they have a reputation like yours. I’m sure you understand.”
“Indeed,” he concedes. “My men are there to apologize, genuinely, and then drive you to my restaurant. Nothing more. Believe me, they have been suitably chastised for scaring you.”
Chastised for scaring me? He makes it sound like they got a good, stern lecture, which isn’t nearly enough. But also, a lecture from Miles Conniver would definitely be enough to scare me straight.
I’m still not stupid or blindly trusting enough to get in a car with them, though. I have some sense of self-preservation. “I’ll take a rideshare.”
“As you wish.” He gives me the address for the restaurant, and a moment later, the two guys in the hallway walk away. I’m still plastered to the door, watching through the peephole to see if they make a move toward busting it down.
Aqua Est Vita is gorgeous, fancier than any place I’ve ever eaten, for sure. Inside, the hostess greets me warmly. “Miss Lee? Mr. Conniver is waiting for you.”
As I follow her, her stiletto heelsclick-clackon the tile floor, while my Sambas squeak. Because you can bet your ass that I wore tennis shoes after the ridiculous amount of running from Conniver’s men I’ve had to do over the last few weeks. I’m dressed for a business meeting, in slacks and a blouse, hoping for the best, but with touches of personality ... and safety in mind.
As we walk deeper into the restaurant, I search for anything that sets off my alarm bells, but there’s nothing. People are dining happily, with black-outfitted servers bustling about. A bouncer-looking guy, who isn’t either of the ones who’ve been following me, stands near a table in the back, clearly my destination.
When we reach it, Mr. Conniver politely rises and extends a hand. “Ah, Miss Lee. Thank you for coming. Please sit,” he says, making no mention of what it took to get me to agree to this littlechitchat, the promise of getting to work on that gorgeous ring. And a $10,000 deposit. Apparently, I do have a price and am a total slut for a special diamond.
He looks ... wealthy. Manicured, coiffed, well dressed, with an air of elegance and importance. He doesn’t look scary, but looks can be deceiving, so I’m careful as I shake his hand and sit across from him.
A hint of a smile ghosts across his lips before he covers it by sipping his coffee. “Again, I assure you I mean you no harm. Nor do my men. I am truly interested in your designs.”
“And again, forgive me if I don’t believe that for one second, when they’ve been stalking me, literally hunting me down across the city.”
