Page 79 of The One-Night Heist

But this…

“Franz, you can stay with us,” Giano continued, tightening his grip, and it was all I could do not to moan. “I reserved two adjoining suites, so Rowen can simply⁠—”

“I’ll be fine staying here,” Franz replied, his gaze still locked on Mick and his expression leaning more toward fascination than before. “Let’s all catch up tomorrow for brunch.”

Mick licked his lips and grinned like the devil himself. “Sounds good to me. I’ll text ya where to meet us, carrots. Now, scram.”

Uhhh…

I didn’t get the chance to reply before Giano was dragging me back through the apartment, down the stairs, and out onto the street below.

All without saying a single word.

Fuck.

I fucked up.

The lust bled out of me—well, most of it did—leaving unfamiliar regret in its wake. I’d been so single-mindedly focused on making Franz angry, I hadn’t considered that Giano might catch some strays during the big reveal.

“Be nice to Franz, please.”

Be nice to Franz… for him.

Old Rowen wouldn’t have given a shit about any of that. To Old Rowen, Giancarlo Luxford was nothing but a job, and once I’d returned his precious art and collected my cut, I could leave this bazillionaire and his hurt feelings far behind me. Unfortunately, that was no longer good enough for who I now was. I didn’t want to leave Giano behind after the job was done, and I definitely didn’t want to see him hurting because of something I did.

I need to make this right.

The uncomfortable—slightly horny—silence continued in the cab back to the hotel, in the elevator headed up to our adjoining suites, long enough that I couldn’t take it anymore. When Giano turned away to open his door, I grabbed his forearm, forcing him to stop and look at me.

“I’m…” I swallowed thickly, muscling the words out through sheer will. “I’m sorry, Giano.”

Please forgive me.

He stared at me for a long, tense moment, his perfect face that impenetrable mask I hated.

“Very well.” He swung the door wide and gestured for me to enter. “Let’s talk about what you did. Then you can show me how sorry you are.”

Twenty-Six

Giancarlo

I’d believed nothing Rowen could do would bother me enough to stay truly angry with him, but that was before his actions had affected someone I cared about.

One of the few people I care about.

It wasn’t as if Franz didn’t know art forgers existed, since part of his job involved authenticating the provenance of pieces in his clients collections. But to witness Rowen wave the antithesis to his career in his face—presumably for no other reason than to be an asshole—was more than I could bear.

So now, it’s time to have a chat.

“Sit.” I pointed at the armchair in the lounge area across the room. “And don’t speak until you’re spoken to.”

I was admittedly testing his willingness to obey with my choice of words, but Rowen surprised me by not only keeping his mouth shut but dutifully crossing the room before sitting where I’d indicated.

Smart man.

The issue was, along with anger, my senses were alight with near blinding lust. Yes, Rowen had orchestrated this scenario to mess with Franz specifically, but I had no doubt he enjoyed riling me up just as much as I did him.

You want to play?