“Fifteen minutes?” I screw up my face, eyeing the slightly too small heels that Leanne smushed me into. “I’m not sure you noticed, but I don’t ever wear heels. Never. And it’s boiling. And I look as close to perfect as it’s possible for me to be right now. If I get sweaty I will not look perfect anymore.”
“It’s fifteen minutes, not fifteen miles. And you have that little powder thingy in your purse for the sweat.”
He doesn’t say anything about me looking perfect or otherwise. In fact, when I met him in the lobby earlier he said absolutely zero about how I looked, even though I know that I have never ever looked better than this.
I take my phone from my purse. There’s a text from the Italian restaurant on Kensington Park Road letting me know that Mr. Yoon’s order has been delivered. Fab. Then I notice the time.
“Wait—another fifteen minutes and we’ll be late! I thought you said we’d be inconspicuous? The two of us rocking up after it’s all started will totally draw attention to our lack of invitation!”
“My plan involves us being fifteen minutes late.”
“Oh?”
“While you got much wrong about the life of an author earlier on, you did not stray too far from the truth when it came to awards. I have won two Daggers.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“It means I write books about heists that have won respect and admiration from my peers. Getting into a charity gala without a ticket is not going to be a problem for me.”
Hmm. I’m not sure I believe him.
“We’ll be there in no time,” he says confidently as we set off across the pub car park.
The back of my heel is bleeding. We’re on what looks to be a never-ending country lane being followed by a lone sheep whobaasat us every so often as if to tell us we are going totally the wrong way.
“Are you sure this is the right direction?” I ask, not for the first time.
Cooper stops walking and rubs his hand across his jaw. “I beg of you to stop asking. I have checked and double-checked.Christ, I spent almost the entirety of yesterday making sure that this would work.”
“You did?” I ask in surprise. “The entirety of yesterday?”
“I did,” he returns, exasperated. “I said I would.Thisis the only way to get to the back of Derwent Manor without being seen. And then I will tell you the remainder of the plan.”
“I don’t understand why you won’t tell me now, though. What if it’s not a good plan and I need to make adjustments? I need you to understand how important it is that this works!”
He takes a step towards me, his nose a mere inch from mine. I notice that his dark green eyes are flecked with tiny splashes of olive green. They glint, making me think of a flinted emerald. “Because, Delphie,” he says, his voice low, “you make cynical remarks at every possible opportunity and ask far, far too many questions.” His eyes travel over my face. “Haveyouever planned a heist?”
“Well, no,” I say, noticing then that he has shaved, the usual scruffy stubble shorter and neater.
“I have planned many.” He tugs at his bow tie.
“Fictional, though. Not real ones.”
“Can’t you have a little fucking faith?”
I blink.
Faith. Huh.
In the absence of a suitably cynical response, I nod my head.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
His eyes linger on mine for a moment longer before he turns on his heel and continues to stride down the country lane, me hobbling after him, the errant sheep trotting away after me.
