Page 14 of Forever a Thief

“I don’t understand. How can you say he stole from you when it sounds like this book isn’t even yours to begin with.”

“Tomato, tomahto.”

“Let me get this straight…”

She stands up, still holding the blanket around her, and my eyes dip to her bare feet and pink-painted toenails. So small and cute. After kissing all her freckles, I’m going to kiss each little toe. Suck them into my mouth one at a time and—

“Laurent!”

Lost in my fantasy, my head snaps up and I arch a brow. “Yes, chérie?”

“You’re planning to track down whoever stabbed you and steal something from them? And you’re telling me it’s safer to stay here with you? How stupid do I look?”

Huh. Well, I was not expecting that response. Maybe I didn’t think this through enough.

Those storm clouds in her eyes turn even darker, and I think I’m about to see lightning strike within their depths. “In my book, there’s no tomato or tomahto about it. I don’t condone stealing. A pen is one thing. A very valuable item belonging to another person is totally different. Call me old-fashioned, but I’m a girl who works her ass off to make money. I don’t take it from other people.”

I’m sensing some judgment on her part, so I better clear this up fast. “Chérie—”

“My name is Savannah,” she interrupts, dropping the blanket onto the couch, “and I do apologize if I’m not correct here, but you just said you’re a thief, right?”

“Forever a thief,” I admit, refusing to hide who and what I am. What I’ve always been in order to avoid meeting the same demise my mother did.

“Then I’m not safe here with you. There are bad people after you, and the last thing I want is to get caught up in something illegal. I’m glad I was able to help you last night, but I should go. I’m sorry.”

Before she can disappear from my life, I grab her hand. “I never claimed to be anyone but who I am. And I’m sorry to disappoint you. Unlike your sister’s husband, I’m no hero, chér—I mean, Savannah.” I press a kiss to her knuckles.

“I have to go,” she whispers, pulling her hand away.

Very reluctantly, I take a step back, knowing she’s right. One million percent right. I’m nothing but a lowly thief, and there’s no place in her upstanding life for me. The truth is, I regret nothing I’ve done up to this point. And I may be a lot of things, but like I said, I’m no hero. If she wants a good man, she should look elsewhere.

“Au revoir,” I say in a low voice.

“Goodbye, Laurent.” She turns, seems to hesitate for a moment, then walks out the door. Walks out of my life.

Even though I know it’s for the best, I squeeze my eyes shut. The strangest feeling washes over me, and I wish things could be different. Savannah is the first woman to truly captivate me. But it’s just not meant to be. She’s too good. And I’m too bad.

Moving over to the window, I watch the breeze lift her blonde hair as she gets into her car. I want her to change her mind and come back to me, but she doesn’t. Soon all I see are taillights, and then she’s gone. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, I rake a hand through my mussed hair and decide a café will make me feel better.

Three Nespressos later, I still feel like shit, and now I’m shaky from the caffeine. Sitting on the patio overlooking the ocean, I wonder what my next step is to get the Lewis Carroll book back. I need to figure out who bested me last night and, even more importantly, who he works for. Time to make some calls.

Due to my morally gray occupation, I’ve learned to perfect the art of lying. Is it a skill I’m proud of? Being able to charm and manipulate people by twisting my words around until they believe me and are willing to do my bidding?

Hell, yes, it is.

Grabbing my phone, I make a mental list and begin to narrow down the playing field. A handful of collectors who might want the book itself come to mind. Then there are a couple of dangerous billionaire players who might be aware of the clues hidden within this particular book’s pages. Because that is the real prize. The one that will lead me to the sapphire.

The Heart of Azure has been on my radar since I was that pathetic twelve-year-old kid who got yelled at for putting his grubby hands on the glass.

“You don’t belong here… nothing but trash.”

That goddamn phrase has echoed in my head for the last twenty-five years. It has taunted my waking and sleeping hours. Growing up poor and without a father always made me feel less-than. After losing my mom, everything spiraled and I fled my small village and headed for Paris. There were others like me there—homeless street rats trying to survive—and I met the greatest kid in the world. My best friend who taught me so much. Remy. I owed everything to him for taking me under his wing and teaching me how to survive. He had my back, but I didn’t have his.

My chest tightens.

Because I’m no hero. No, the truth is I’m a goddamn coward.

Giving my head a hard shake, hating that I let the past creep up on me, I start making phone calls. Burying thoughts of what happened in Paris so long ago, I turn on my usual laidback charm and start the search for who has my book.