Page 23 of The One-Night Heist

Giano smiled at me so warmly, I almost bolted from the room. “That’s an excellent idea, Mr. Quincy.” Then he turned to Director Westcott and added, “I believe I may have another bronze statue available to replace the one that was stolen.”

Of course you do.

The museum director exhaled in obvious relief. “Thank you, Mr. Luxford. I will draw up a guard budget and send it your way. Sabina, we should discuss how to best frame this for the press once word gets out⁠—”

“Why involve the press at all?” I blurted out, done with being polite. “There’s no ransom note, no insurance companies involved. The donor of the statue has a replacement handy, and you’ll probably never see Heracles or his hydra again. Why give the art thief any notoriety? They’re probably just dying for attention…”

“Is that so?” Giano quietly asked, eye-fucking me so blatantly, it was a wonder we weren’t told to get a room.

That’s an idea…

“Well, I still need to file my report,” Markel announced to no one as we all headed back through the empty museum and toward the front door. Once the others were farther ahead, he hissed in my ear, "Could you stop flirting with the victim?”

“First of all, you didn’t even know he was the victim until five minutes ago,” I scoffed, annoyed that Markel was more observant than I thought. “And second, you’re not my superior.”

In any way.

“Giancarlo Luxford is one of the richest men in the entire city,” he sneered. “What could he want with convicted trash like you?”

Deep breaths, Rowen.

The urge to punch the disdain off his face was strong, but an altercation was exactly what he wanted—anything to get me written up with our boss. Instead I waited until Markel and I were alone on the front steps once again before putting him in his place.

Indirectly.

“Mr. Luxford!” I called down to where Giano was speaking with his chauffeur through the driver’s side window. “Would you like to get a drink with me? Maybe talk about your case…”

Agent Markel snorted and crossed his arms, salivating for my humiliation like the prick he was.

Giano smiled in that disgustingly warm way again. “I would love to, Mr. Quincy. Are you free to join me now?”

“You bet!” I practically pranced down the stairs and into Giancarlo Luxford’s private car, cackling at the look on Markel’s face as we drove away.

Stay hungry, G-man.

Eight

Giancarlo

I’d assumed seeing Rowen again would feel different than before—less thrilling now that we had an arrangement and I no longer needed an excuse to lure him closer.

I was wrong. My skin still tingled from where we’d shook hands to seal our deal, anticipation already buzzing in my veins as the cleaning staff descended on my apartment this morning, my nerves intensifying as I watched the time tick closer to 4:00 pm.

I couldn’t wait to see him again.

When Franz sent me the press coverage from the night before, I was thankful Rowen had left when he did. Not only because there was no photographic evidence he’d been in attendance, but if I’d had an image of his face to fixate on all day, I may have gone insane.

Then, the director of The Andervelt Museum called with news of the robbery and I had never felt such a certainty that kismet existed.

Part of me briefly wondered if Rowen himself had stolen the bronze statue as a message, but then realized how unlikely that would be. It wasn’t publicized that my family donated it—per my grandmother’s wishes—not to mention, I assumed it would have been near impossible for him to pull off a heist the morning of my party and arrive on time.

Especially looking as delectable as he did…

Then again, I didn’t truly know what he was capable of. I’d researched the crime that resulted in his arrest, of course—in depth—but I had no doubt he’d seamlessly masterminded countless jobs before that one.

Which is why he’s perfect to be in charge of mine.

Of course, there were other reasons I wanted him involved. Aside from the magnetic attraction I felt toward him, I sensed something else—a desperate desire to be free from his current circumstances.