“Who else have you shown it to?” Arthur asked.
“Isabella and Tristan.” Grace furrowed her brows. “A jeweler in town. Samantha Ferraro from Caine-Ferraro’s Fine Art Investigations.”
Arthur nodded. “Samantha’s solid. Tristan’s mother vouched for her when Isabella had that trouble at the gallery.”
“She’s the one who suggested Dr. Caulfield,” Grace added. “She said if anyone could determine its authenticity, it would be him.”
“Could one of them have talked?” I asked.
Grace bit her lip. “Samantha was the one who suggested I stay quiet about it, but I didn’t swear anyone to secrecy or anything.”
I drummed my fingers on the table between Grace and me. “Someone saw something or heard something. Those two men didn’t randomly show up at your café.”
“Do you have a photo of them?” Merlin asked.
Grace shook her head. “It happened so fast.”
“What about security cameras at your café?” Arthur asked.
“Yes, but they’re basic. I asked my assistant manager to pull a photo of him, and she couldn’t.”
If someone wanted the egg badly enough to send people after Grace, we needed better information.
“What about your plans in London?” Arthur asked, shifting forward. “Proper accommodations are critical when handling high-value items.”
“An Airbnb,” Grace said. “Nothing fancy, but the reviews mentioned the most amazing breakfast with these raspberry scones and?—”
Shit. “No, we’re not.”
Grace blinked. “Excuse me?”
That was probably news I should have mentioned before now. “You’re carrying an artifact worth tens of millions. You’re not staying at some boutique spot with cute little scones and security as an afterthought. I booked us somewhere safer.”
“Bookedus?” Her mouth and eyes widened. “Without telling me?”
It was a standard move in this line of business, but she wasn’t someone accustomed to this type of life. “Tristan wants me to keep you safe. This is me doing my job.”
“Job? I told Tristan yesterday that I can’t pay for?—”
“It’s pro bono.” Was I supposed to have told her that? Tristan had said there was no charge for the flight, and I’d assumed he would have filled her in on the rest of our agreement we’d discussed last night. “If it turns out the egg is the real thing, and you’re going to sell it, I’ll take five or ten percent.”
Arthur gave an overly confident shake of his head. “Tristan and I agreed we were paying for the job, including your retainer.”
“Oh no, you don’t. Round Table isn’t getting their hooks into me that easily.” I scowled at him, which he met with a smirk. “I declined the retainer, and told Tristan I’d only accept expenses, including our room at The Four Seasons.”
Grace’s eyes widened. “Ourroom?”
“A suite,” I clarified. “We’ll be sharing.”
“I…” Her face flushed pink. “I don’t need a bodyguard in my room.”
“You’re not leaving my sight.”
Arthur and Merlin exchanged amused glances but kept their mouths shut. We’d all seen our fair share of people who didn’t think they needed us.
Grace sat back, not bothering to argue. She swiveled her chair so she could stare at the clouds outside her window as we cruised over Lake Erie. At least she wasn’t crushing the armrest anymore. “I’ve never been there before. I want to see the Tower of London.”
I almost said no, almost reminded her of the danger, but something stopped me. Maybe it was the way her voice was so small, compared to how bright and lively she’d been at the coffee shop yesterday. Or maybe I was just tired of being the one to dim her light.
