ONE
CAMILLE
It was the perfect night.
Million-euro Bugattis, bright-yellow Ferraris, and a few Lamborghinis pulled up to the Parisian estate. Rich people in tuxedos and gowns stepped out, and they let the valets take their cars away. The three-story palace was lit with a golden glow, the fountain in the center splashing with a gentle backdrop of water.
When my driver pulled up to the front, I felt my heart tighten like a fist.
Would the black wig disguise me?
The bright-red lipstick?
The green contacts?
Would he see right through the charade?
The door opened, and Raymond helped me out of the car.
I recognized him.
But he didn’t seem to recognize me.
Hidden in the crowd of aristocrats, I emerged into the downstairs parlor, immediately swallowed by waiters with trays of bubbly champagne and triangles of bruschetta. I had business to take care of, but that didn’t stop me from grabbing a flute and a slice of bread. I enjoyed both, my eyes scanning for the man of the hour.
It didn’t take me long to find him.
As if he had the focus of a spotlight, he was surrounded in that golden glow, a shine to his eyes. A woman was at his side, a petite brunette who had her arm tucked in his, looking up at him like every word he said was utterly fascinating.
His dark hair was slicked back, and his dark eyes looked like fresh espresso first thing in the morning. Instead of holding a flute of champagne, he held a glass of scotch. It was a power move—like everything else he did.
Rich. Powerful. Handsome.
Every man wanted to be him. Every woman wanted him to be her husband.
But he wasn’t quite what he seemed.
I knew the mansion like the back of my hand, so I snuck away from the crowd, keeping my eyes on the butlers to make sure they were distracted, and then made my way upstairs. My heels tapped against the hardwood, but the sound of violins seemed to muffle it. The brightness of the chandeliers disappeared as I arrived on the second floor. The music and conversation were lower, like someone turned the dial on a stereo.
The second floor seemed vacant.
I left my empty flute on the nearest surface then continued up to the third floor.
The anxiety worsened, because now that I was so close to my goal, I was more terrified of losing it. I put my life on the line for this, but it was worth it. I crept to the third floor, careful to remain quiet even though no one was around. My breaths grew louder and labored because my lungs weren’t getting the air they needed. I turned down a couple hallways until I found the spot.
I tried the door.
Locked.
I’d anticipated this scenario, so I pulled out the pins hidden in my hair and tried to open the lock. I picked at it exactly as Bones had told me, hitting the mechanism just right to get the lock disabled. I’d practiced on several doors, but in the heat of the moment, it was hard not to tremble and fumble.
Click.
Thank gawd.
I pushed the door open and found his most prized possessions behind glass, as if it was a jewelry store.
There it sat, right in the center, the pearls iridescent and flawless.
I crept forward and tried to find a door to slide open, a lid to lift, but there was nothing. Then I saw the gentle flash of red light, the alarm that protected all the irreplaceable gems inside.
Motherfucker.
I’d have to break the glass with my elbow, grab the necklace, and hightail it out of there as quickly as possible. The servants had an elevator so they could bring their food cart to the different floors and serve His Grace… or whatever the fuck they called him. I would use that to make my escape, take the elevator to the basement. It was the fastest way to get down there, so they wouldn’t be able to follow me immediately.
“Jet-black isn’t your color, darling.” The deep voice was playful on the surface, making the threat underneath indistinguishable. But it was there, masked by his charm, subtle as it left his handsome mouth.
I released the breath I’d just taken.
“But that dress…was made for you.” His eyes drifted down my body as he spoke. It was obvious in his tone that his gaze ravished my body, that his hands would grab my hips once they came near enough.
I’d come all the way here for this necklace—and I wasn’t leaving without it.
I slammed my elbow against the glass. It shattered into pieces, cutting my arm in the process and setting off the alarm.
I snatched the pearl necklace and ran for it.
He blocked my path, a slight smile on his lips, threat in his eyes. “You think I didn’t recognize you? You think an ugly wig and cheap lipstick are enough to hide all the details my hands could recognize in the dark?”