"There's no price here," he complained.
"I'm not an appraiser except in very specific circumstances. I didn't put prices down since they wouldn't be useful for insurance or anything legal and Griffen wasn't interested in resale. I'd say if you could get that to someone who knows what it is, you'd walk away with at least seven to ten thousand. More if it's been professionally cleaned, but that's not cheap."
Bryce read the entry in the database again, mulling over my feeble offering. The truth was, there weren't many high-value items lying around the house. I didn't have much better to offer. I didn't even consider telling him about the Roman aryballos or Ming vase in the library. They were a part of history.
Finally, Bryce nodded his agreement at my screen. "Find me more like this and I'll keep my mouth shut. Got me?"
Gripping the tablet with both hands to keep them from shaking, I asked, "And what if Hawk searches my things? They'll kick me out and you won't have anything."
"That sounds like your problem. And don't even think about moving what I stashed in your bag. I'll be checking. If it's gone, I'll just add more. I own you now."
Bryce closed the scant distance between us, looming over me. I shoved one hand in my pocket to finger the panic button. I couldn't use it. Not now. Not unless I was desperate. Bryce wasn't the first horny asshole I'd had to fend off. I could deal with him. I had to.
Narrowing my eyes, I glared up at him. "Don't even think about it. I'd rather be arrested than let you lay a finger on me."
The sneer was back, Bryce's confidence grating. "What makes you think you get to say no? Have you ever been to jail? Are you sure you're ready to find out what it's like? And what about your kid? What happens to him when you get arrested?"
I was shaking, and Bryce could see it. The tremble in my shoulders, the way my teeth gritted so they wouldn't chatter. My heart raced so fast I was light-headed. Could he have me thrown in jail? Could he hurt August?
My gut said no. My gut said Tenn wouldn't let that happen.
Why not? Who was I to Tenn, really? He wasn't even speaking to me.
And if he thought I was a thief? If he thought I was lying to him even more than he already knew I was?
The only time you're not lying is when I fuck you.
I swallowed again, forcing back my terror at Bryce's vision of my future. Not even to stay out of jail would I let him touch me. He was just another in a long list of entitled men who thought they had a right to my body because they wanted it. Well, fuck them and fuck him.
Sucking in a tight breath, hating the way my voice shook, I said, "I'll help you steal, but if fucking you is part of the deal, you might as well call Tenn and Griffen in here right now because it's not going to happen. Ever. Got me?"
"You're awfully confident for a woman backed into a corner."
I shook my head, my throat almost too tight to force out words. "We all have lines we won't cross. That's mine. If you want my help, deal with it. Otherwise, you can wait for the next art history professor to move into Heartstone Manor."
The muscles in Bryce's jaw flexed, his lips pressed together in an unhappy line. "We'll see. I'll take this for now. Find me something else by the end of the day. Remember," his gaze stripped me from head to toe, "if you want to stay out of jail, you'd better keep me happy."
I stood frozen as Bryce strode from the room, listening to his footsteps echo down the hall, my mind racing. I'd been wrong. I didn't have two choices. I only had one. I just had to hope it wouldn't come back to bite me on the ass.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
TENN
"Is Forrest up to speed on the changes to the cottages?" Griffen asked Royal, who'd joined us in Griffen's office via the screen on the desk. I had to force my attention back to the meeting. We'd already discussed Forrest sneaking around the house. Royal was keeping an eye on him at the Inn, and so far, he hadn't done anything suspicious. We'd decided to take a watch-and-wait approach.
Scarlett was working down the hall in the family gathering room, and I was trying to pretend it wasn't killing me that she was so close. I was the one who'd shut her out. When she'd refused to tell me about the text, my temper had flared, driven by ugly, sour jealousy.
Who was texting her? I didn't know what it meant, but the