Page 24 of Stealing Blinds

With my hand on her hip, I lead us to resume our backyard jaunt, waiting to delve deeper until we amble by another couple, offering customary generic greetings, and find a stretch of solitude again. “Why the discrepancy?”

“Unknowns.”

That surprises me. She holds herself with such unwavering confidence. I wouldn’t have expected her to have any unknowns. Although I suppose in most tricks there are variables you can’t predict with certainty.

“So, talk them through with me.”

“This isn’t how I do things.” There is a thread of nervousness woven through that despite how resolved she sounds to shut me out.

That isn’t an uncommon stance for thieves. No one wants to share their jackpot, but I’m not asking for a cut, and I think Sylvie is worried about losing something other than the score she’s after.

Still, as we loop around another pathway that rounds the grotto and leads back toward the mansion, I poke to see what her fears are. “I got you into that room without you having to promise him anything. All I’m asking is that you give me enough information so I can understand what steps you’re taking and what hang-ups you might encounter. Helping people in a pinch is what my business is built on. And I haven’t asked what you’re lifting.”

“No, you haven’t.” She shakes her head, and something like despondency echoes through her response. “But last-minute changes are reckless.”

I’d guess she’d experienced a job gone wrong due to that. I’m sure trusting anyone would be challenging if she’d been double-crossed.

“Maybe.” I pause our trek behind the cover of the grotto, unable to keep myself from skimming my palm over the definition of her silky arm. “But now I’m an accessory to this, one way or another. I have as much on the line as you do, and I have a hell of a lot of resources to correct any issues.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Her jaw sets, popping open with indignation. “You do not have as much on the line as me, and while I appreciate you recovering from your fuck up of crashing this party, you don’t get to play hero now. I did the recon on this job. I put myself on the line countless times for it. And I’ll be the one in that room, finishing it.”

Every cell in my body itches with the urge to comfort her, completely separate from the attraction that has utterly consumed me for months.

I lift her chin so she’s forced to look at me. “I wasn’t suggesting that I had any claim to the success of tonight. I meant that I’ll be there every step of the way. If something goes wrong, you won’t be alone.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Her ambers romp all over my face, so many perplexing emotions swirling inside them. “I’ll give you the bare bones. His office is locked, but I have the code. The safe I need to reach is located within a sculpture. That shouldn’t be an issue, but the time variation I offered is in case there is any security surrounding it that I didn’t find during recon.”

My chest swells with an unfamiliar warmth, but I don’t let on that I’m surprised by or grateful for her trust. That might squash it. “You didn’t get eyes in the office?”

“I know the type of safe due to his connections and purchase history, but the camera doesn’t point at the sculpture—”

“So he doesn’t have to worry about someone scouting the contents on the footage,” I finish, downing most of my drink.

“Exactly,” she whispers, allowing herself the smallest sip of champagne.

This entire house is a monument to priceless artifacts. What the hell is she stealing if it’s so precious that Peter won’t even risk it appearing on camera? I can’t get hung up there. Sylvie may be here for something she deems a treasure. But so am I, and she’s actually in arm’s reach. I’m not going to risk blowing it.

“And the lock?” I ask, assuming she has all her bases covered, but needing to be certain.

She nods, pouring her champagne into my nearly empty glass. “That is one thing you can help me with. The safe is secured by iris identification, and the interface is located in the cigar lounge, where we’ll be having drinks with him.”

That does complicate matters. Again, I swallow my natural instinct—this time, it’s to gloat about how I could use my sleight of hand to assist, ask if she needs me to extract his eyeball for easier access, or to extend my awe for her gumption to pull this off while hobnobbing with the man himself—and instead play it unaffected.

“The plan?”

“I’m all set.” Her mouth quirks as if she could read some of my inner thoughts. “I just need it to seem natural for me to be near the thermostat, which is actually a control panel and located on the opposite end of the room from where the chairs are. Your diversion skills could be useful.”

I tap the corner of my eye. “All set?”

She laughs and starts walking toward the house again. “He had an appointment at the optometrist a week and a half ago.”

Christ, this woman fascinates me. Not only is she far beyond gorgeous, but she’s brilliant and cunning with a veneer of vulnerability that I’m eager to get a better glimpse of. And that’s only scratching the surface of how she’s wrecking me.

I’m fucking hard because she had a replica of Peter’s eyeball made. Who knew that was even a goddamn kink?

“Good.” I clear my throat and adjust my jacket as we continue on the path. “But if he realizes the safe has been broken into, won’t everyone in that room be prime suspects?”