Page 53 of Don’t Go Stealing My Heart

“Leave them be, Chloe.” Sylvia’s no-nonsense tone suggested she was accustomed to laying down their family laws. “Your brother’s free time is valuable.” She turned to Jack. “Best if you make it an early night. We need you sharp for work. Your father needs that breakthrough.”

Tension edged Jack’s movements. “I’m aware.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come over last night.”

“Seriously? You think I should have told Chloe—” He cut his rant short.

Chloe paled. Sylvia pursed her lips.

“I have to check my phone,” Clementine said, breaking the tense silence. No need to partake in this family tête-à-tête.

“It was lovely to meet you,” Sylvia said. “Jack will be along shortly.”

He nodded. “I’ll meet you in the library.”

She left as their butler, Walter—who she’d learned cooked and cleaned and chauffeured the family around—floated in to clear the table. They really did have a manservant, and a maid, in a mansion that could go toe-to-toe with Wayne Manor. But she was no Rachel Dawes in this Bat World. She was Catwoman, and her Bruce Wayne had no clue to her secret identity.

She settled in the library, relieved to be away from job questions, and pulled out her phone. She hadn’t checked in since this morning, an eternity for her, but unplugging had been surprisingly exhilarating. She’d experienced real moments today, with real live people, instead of talking to her bearded dragon or texting Lucien.

On cue, a message from Lucien lit her screen. The first line sent her heart into her throat. By the time she’d finished reading, she’d almost bitten through her lip.

Lucien: We have a problem in Delhi. The orphanage contacted me. They’re being squeezed by some thugs. If we don’t send cash within the week, they’ll be shut down.

Clementine: Our last score. The diamond ring money? Is it gone?

Lucien: You asked me to spread as much around locally as I could. The rest went to the Cambodia project.

She had wanted to help out in New York, not just abroad, as much as possible without drawing attention. And the Cambodia project funded schools. All worthy causes. None of those facts dimmed her panic. If the Delhi orphanage was shut down, Nisha and the rest of the children there would have nowhere to go.

Lucien: You mentioned moving up the timeline. Get the job done and I’ll see if I can stall for a few days.

She looked across the foyer, in the direction of the dining room, where she’d had a lovely meal with a lovely family who trusted her. Could she really steal from them? Just the thought of it made her sick. She closed her eyes and pictured Nisha’s scarred arm as she’d snatched the persimmon from Clementine. There were no other jobs lined up. Clementine had no savings to pinch from. It was this or nothing.

Clementine: I’ll get it done.

She sent the reply, unsure how she’d pull this off, or if she could live with herself afterward.

“Everything okay?” Jack appeared, looking calmer than in the dining room.

That made one of them.

She stashed her phone in her purse. “Yeah. Fine. Thanks.”

“Shall we?” He turned toward the marble-floored foyer, expecting her to follow.

She could make an excuse about not feeling well, escape to plan her heist, but she didn’t know where the painting was, and she didn’t want to leave yet. If she went through with this, this could be the last time she ever saw Jack. A sharp pang twisted her gut.

He led her down the spiral staircase. She kept up while trying to compartmentalize her job from her life. She’d done this hundreds of times, but it felt like her first con. They passed a massive television and games area, complete with ping pong and pool tables. He remained quiet and didn’t glance at her, swinging his arms faster as he walked. His family discussion had obviously stressed him, but he seemed more agitated the farther they got from the main floor.

Could he sense her betrayal? Did her panic have a smell?

He kept moving across the large living area. “You’re not a music producer, are you?”

If she really were Catwoman, she’d use this moment to transform into costume and plaster herself to the ceiling. Did Catwoman actually have ceiling-walking powers? Could she walk up walls like Spider-Man? Clementine knew basic Batman details, thanks to Annie in her nice foster home, but she didn’t even know if Catwoman was a superhero or a villain, or why she was pondering ridiculous thoughts when her mark, who she was falling for—and would probably steal from—had busted her cover.

Jack’s stride didn’t slow.

She hurried to keep up. “It’s complicated,” she said. The vague answer was easier facing his back.