Page 24 of The One-Night Heist

And if anyone can understand that, it’s me.

I still felt terrible over how Rowen had first reacted to my proposal—the stark betrayal I’d witnessed on his face when he’d thought I set him up—even if I’d caught a glimpse of hunger as well. It was clear he despised his job, and since I could also understand being cornered into a line of work that felt like a prison sentence, I knew my offer would be too tempting to resist.

He needs this almost as much as I do.

Rowen agreed to my schemes because he missed his former life of crime, and against all good sense, I wanted to help him reclaim his former glory while protecting him with every resource I had at my disposal.

Anything he wants, he can have it.

It had been my request to Director Westcott to meet the agents investigating the stolen statue. This was partly because I couldn’t wait another second to see Rowen, but also because I was curious about seeing him “on the job.” I’d expected his attitude to be uncooperative—perhaps even combative—but was pleasantly surprised by how helpful he was toward The Andervelt staff.

He likes to be seen as the expert.

And the one in charge…

I suspected he also enjoyed looking smarter than the FBI agent who was with him—the one who’d inappropriately commented on my mother’s appearance.

“Go fuck yourself, Markel!” Rowen called out in a sing-song voice through the cracked window as my driver, Scott, merged into traffic and whisked us away. “Oh, sorry.” He glanced at me, his gorgeous eyes gauging my reaction. “I swear a lot.”

My lips twisted in amusement. “It’s quite all right. I would swear more if given the chance.”

I wasn’t sure what possessed me to display such frankness, but I was immediately rewarded by Rowen grinning so brightly, I nearly kissed him, propriety be damned.

“I’ll have you swearing like a sailor in no time, Moneybags.” His gaze briefly drifted to the back of Scott’s head before returning to me. “So… where are we headed for that drink?”

The suggestiveness in his tone was difficult to ignore, but I did want to keep things as professional as possible.

To start.

“My hotel,” I replied, only to realize exactly what that sounded like as his smirk grew and eyes sparkled. “To the Grille Room at The Luxford. I’ve barely eaten today and I would like to feed you as well.”

Something strange occurred as Rowen’s entire body froze and a nearly expressionless look fell over his face. Before I could ask if he was feeling ill, he shook himself free of his trance, smiling pleasantly. Too pleasantly.

Fuck.

“Haven’t you seen enough of your hotel today?”

“W-what?” I stuttered, still trying to pinpoint how I’d triggered him a moment ago. “I… haven’t been to The Luxford since the night we met.”

I still need to thank Franz for dragging me out of the house…

A genuine grin replaced his fake one. “So you were lying to Bradley Westcott the Fifteenth?”

“What?” I repeated, more lost than before.

“You told the museum director you were already ‘in the area’ at your hotel, so of course he needed to clear his schedule to meet with you in person.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Unbelievable…”

“It was only a little white lie!” I explained as the car slowed to a stop. “I needed an excuse to come down to The Andervelt and⁠—”

“Hey.” Rowen laid his hand on my forearm, effectively quieting me as electricity raced down my spine at the contact. “I don’t give a shit that you lied to some stuffed suit. It’s just…” His gaze roamed over my face, his expression shrewd. “I’m surprised you managed to fool me. I’m usually pretty good at sniffing out a lie…”

Oh.

Oh no.

I could not abide Rowen Quincy thinking I was untrustworthy, even if that was completely ridiculous given the circumstances.

Without thinking, I gripped his chin, pinning him in place. “I will not lie to you,” I hissed. “Especially not if it’s something important.”