AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The man stumbled backwards, knocking into a marble console table near the entrance. A large Satsuma vase toppled, falling to the floor with acrash.
The two guards by the stairs moved toward the melee in thefoyer.
The plan was clear: get to the second and third floors while Ronan created adistraction.
It had sounded simple, but that had been before Ronan was surrounded by men with guns. She had to fight the impulse to go to him, to start fighting off the guards closing aroundhim.
He was a grown man. This was his work. He knew what he wasdoing.
She glanced at her watch and forced herself to move past the stairs, her head at an imperious tilt, as if she had every right to explore the villa at herleisure.
The rooms on the blueprint accessed by Clay had been unlabeled, which made sense given their age, and she kept the house’s floor plan in her mind’s eye as she moved past the large rooms, marking them off as she headed for one of three rooms that had astaircase.
She didn’t know if her breach of the Whitmore Club had led to additional security at other Manifest properties, but she would save the kitchen stairs as a last resort in case they expected her to use the same methodtwice.
She came to a room with a set of closed wooden doors. If she was right, this should be the first of the rooms with a staircase leading to the upperfloors.
She pushed through the doors without hesitation. Entitlement was the key to access. If she acted like she had every right to be there, she was less likely to be stopped andquestioned.
The room was dimly lit with green table lamps, every wall lined with shelves groaning with books. She’d barely stepped into the room when she noticed two men kissing on a tufted leathersofa.
One of them looked up, his eyes glassy, his gaze sweeping Julia’s body. “Care to join us,darling?”
“I’m sorry. Excuse me.” She bowed out of the room, closing the doors behindher.
Damn…
She crossed the hall and headed toward the other room that should have a staircase. Its doors were closed as well, and she took a deep breath before opening it, bracing herself for another unexpectedsurprise.
The room was empty, a massive desk dominating one end of the room, two loveseats facing each other over an antique coffee table andrug.
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, then checked her watch. Three minutes had passed since Ronan had initiated the distraction. She was only guaranteed seven more minutes to get upstairs. Once there, it was anybody’s guess how much time shehad.
She made her way deeper into the darkened room, searching its periphery for the staircase that had appeared on the blueprints. When she came to a door set into a wood panel in one of the corners, she knew she’d foundit.
She tried the knob and was unsurprised to find it locked. It took her less than ten seconds to remove the pick set she’d tucked into her clutch after hours practicing with it in the days leading up to theparty.
Like so much about the event, they’d had no idea if the secondary staircases would be hidden behind doors and whether those doors would be locked. Working the lock picks on the doors in Ronan’s Florence apartment had been maddening, but now she was glad Ronan had insisted she learn. She wasn’t an expert, but she’d gotten fairly quick with basiclocks.
She bent down to take a look at the mechanism. It was old, larger than a modern lock. She chose a pick that looked to be the right size, but it proved to be slightly too big, so she sized down one pick. This one fit easily into thelock.
She forced herself to breathe slow and easy as she felt for the tumblers inside the lock, waiting for the pick to clear them one by one. The first time, she turned the pick too fast, before the final tumbler hadcleared.
She took a breath and tried again, backing the pick out of the lock and turningslowly.
The lock clicked and the door swungopen.
She stepped into a wood-paneled stairwell and started up a flight of stairs. The stairwell was similar to the one at the Whitmore Club, but this one was older, the stone walls concealing a chilly vestibule that smelled of age anddamp.
She reached the door on the second floor landing and was relieved to find it unlocked. She couldn’t see the face of her watch in the stairwell, but she knew she was running out oftime.
She opened the door and stepped onto a carpetedhallway.
The hall was lined with doors, some open and some closed, sconces casting shadows against the textured plaster of the villa’s old walls. Oil portraits marched down the walls, a series of severe but sensuous looking men and women with dark hair and brooding eyes watching as she made her way to the first door, open a couple ofinches.
She’d barely stepped into the room when she heard voices at the other end of thehall.
She left the door open an inch and listened as two men came closer, the conversation getting louder as they neared the room in which shehid.
