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The jewelry should go for a couple thousand nonetheless so it's not a complete waste.
I hadn’t bothered to return the clutch after stealing the items, tossing it into one of the trash cans as I’d made my way back into the ballroom, my eye back on the real prize.
The Le Pigeon aux Petits Pois. One of Picasso’s lost paintings.
The vintage painting’s the sole reason I’m here tonight, the glitz and glam of the rest of the ball be damned. My client wants the expensive painting and there’s no better time than now to steal it.
Personally, I don’t think there’s anything special about it, other than the background. Supposedly stolen from a museum in 2010 with a couple of other paintings, the mystery surrounding the person who stole it has always bugged me. Someone turned themselves in for the robbery in 2011, but seeing as they didn’t have the actual physical painting, I had my doubts, like the rest of the world.
And now that I have my eyes on the floral painting, I only have more questions.
Questions for me to ponder at another time.
I pick a wine glass up off of the table of one of the passing servers, giving him a polite smile before I bring the glass to my lips, casually surveying the room. I’ve had this job in place for months now and everything should go down without a hitch, but I know to always prepare for the worst.
Humming, I continue to look at all of the patrons. Most of them are decades older than me, one lady looking as if her and the first Queen of England were tea buddies. I wince as she takes a sip of her wine and proceeds to cough like she’s about to hack up a lung, spittle flying everywhere.
I turn away, movement to the left of me catching my attention. I tilt my head and I pause when I find a pair of eyes on me. Even from a distance, the aqua blue orbs hold me captivated and I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek to smother my reaction.
God, he’s gorgeous.
The man can’t be more than a few years older than me with tan skin and jet black hair that has a slight curl to it. His jawline is strong and the lips that tilt up in a smirk as they watch me could make a nun reconsider oral.
My skin warms and my fingers twitch on my glass.
My eyes shoot to the large grand clock sitting in the back of the room.
11:54.
I don’t have time.
Sighing, I take my eyes off of the man, even though I can still feel him watching me. Any other night, I would have no problem propositioning him, or allowing him to propositionme. But I take my jobs and the money I’m paid for them seriously. The last thing I need to do is try to explain to my client that I didn’t get his painting because I was too busy getting railed by some pretty boy in one of the backrooms.
A tinkering moves through the room, pulling me from my thoughts. I look up to find an older man with snow white hair standing at the top of the staircase that leads up to the wrap-around balcony. He’s holding a knife in his hand and a wine glass, tapping on it like some old fashion heart throb when in reality he looks more like the next patient on the heart transplant list.
I wince as he taps that damn glass again, my eyes shooting to the clock.
11:55.
“Ladies and gentleman, I’d like to thank you all for being here tonight. It means so much to me and my wife, Haddie, that you all could join us as we celebrate-” The man’s words drown to the background as all of the lights in the room go off and people let out little gasps and cries of horror. One lady even lets out a bone curling scream.
My god, so fucking dramatic.
I hold in my chuckle, tossing my now empty cup just to add a little more chaos to the drama. Glass clatters to the ground noisily and someone yelps.
Show time.
I reach under my dress, pulling out the night goggles that tooka lotof fucking maneuvering to secure. At one point, I was convinced I’d have to shove them halfway up my vagina in order to smuggle them inside.
Fortunately, an extra large pocket built into the underside of the dress, buried under thick tulle ended up being the solution.
I strap the goggles onto my head, blinking as the room comes back into view, the colors muted into shades of green. I don’t waste time, moving through the room and heading toward my prize, careful not to bump into any of the other partygoers.
It's really too easy.
The painting comes down with a couple of gentle pulls and everyone else in the room is still busy scrambling and trying to figure out what is going on. The host is trying to tell everyone to calm down, but of course no one is listening.
I’m careful with the painting as I slide between the sea of bodies and I’m even more careful as I ease open the side door, not wanting any of the moonlight to bleed into the room and give me away.
