Page 21 of Forever a Thief

“That’s genius, Addie,” Ryder agrees, and the others nod.

“We can all be there and get in and out with Voss none the wiser.” Addie looks over at me for approval.

“Absolutely brilliant,” I praise.

Adam Voss won’t know what—or who—hit him.

Chapter Eight: Savannah

Brighton invites me to stay at her house. No one offers a room to Laurent.

I feel bad about that, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He announces he’s going to stay at the Ritz-Carlton. I get the feeling he wants me to go with him, because I can’t help but notice the disappointed look that crosses his handsome face when I accept Brighton’s offered guestroom. Like it bums him out. Or maybe I’m just imagining it.

Brighton’s place is adorable. It’s like I stepped into the pages of a design magazine. Everything seems to have its place and is artfully arranged. She’s very girly, but sophisticated and chic, and her house smells amazing. Every room has either a candle or wax melt burner, delicious smells wafting from them that somehow match each space’s unique vibe. Vases of flowers—all fresh peonies—adorn nearly every surface. She says the massive fluffy blooms that smell so intoxicating are her favorite, and she used to buy them from the flower markets in Paris.

We sit on her couch and chat while sharing a large cheese pizza, a little too much wine and a bakery box of fresh macarons—her other favorite. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a girls’ night, and I need it more than I realized. Now that Harper is married and a new mom, we haven’t been able to spend as much time together. At least, not just the two of us. And Brighton is a hoot. Her striking looks might be the first thing a person notices, but her personality has me cracking up. She doesn’t hold back and tells it like it is, which is both refreshing and slightly intimidating. Especially when she brings up Laurent.

“What’s going on between you two?” she asks, innocently batting her dark-lined eyes. Even though she has bright emerald-green eyes like Laurent, his are a piercing shade that are solely green, while hers are striated with black.

“What?” I force out a laugh. “Nothing. Why?”

“He seems quite fond of you.”

“Me? What makes you say that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you.”

“How does he look at me?” I pretend ignorance, studying the box of confectionery goodness before picking out my next treat.

“Like you’re a cream puff and he wants to lick all your cream out before he devours you,” she declares while munching on a macaron.

Her words make me almost choke on my own macaron. But she’s considerate enough not to call me out on my reaction, so I take a sip of wine and reach for another cookie. “These are really good. What bakery are they from?” I lean closer to read the lid, clearly attempting to change the subject, and it’s some French name I can’t pronounce.

“Aren’t they divine?” she gushes, nibbling off another bite. “Although if I keep eating them the way I do, I’m bound to gain ten pounds. They’re from my favorite pâtisserie in Paris.”

“Did you take a trip recently? I can’t imagine they’d ship internationally. They wouldn’t arrive this fresh.”

“Not exactly,” she hedges. “They were a gift…from…an admirer.”

“What?” I squeal, and her cheeks flush pink. “Do you know who it is?”

She shrugs a shoulder. “No idea. But somehow he seems to know all my favorites.” She sweeps a hand over the room. “I didn’t buy all these peonies.”

It had occurred to me that there was an excessive amount. “Wow, I’d say someone has a pretty big crush on you.”

“Right back at you,” she fires, and we both grin.

I’m not exactly convinced Laurent has a crush on me. I’m a useful part of his plan, sure, but I doubt there’s more to it than that. But a secret admirer? That’s the real deal. And, if you ask me, very romantic.

Saturday night arrives far too fast. I spent the last day and a half hanging out with Brighton, and she kept me busy eating too much takeout, devouring an insane amount of macarons and bingeing rom-coms until I almost started believing I, too, might find a happy ending. As much fun as I had, I thought about Laurent every spare second. Truth be told, I missed him and his stupid loafers.

Now it’s time to get our plan rolling, and I’m really looking forward to seeing him very soon.

Flipping through the dresses at the costume shop in search of an outfit to wear to the masquerade party, I’m wondering who’s watching Brighton from afar and sending her such expensive gifts. Curiouser and curiouser.

“How about this one?” Addie asks, holding up a red dress.

Brighton, Addie and Delaney are also riffling through the racks. It’s nice to have a group of women to hang out with, and I wish it could be on a more permanent basis.