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Yes.
And she didn’t work well with someone lurking over her shoulder. What she was attempting this time was big. She’d never do the work justice no matter how clean the copy she produced.
Before Lachlan could voice a lewd suggestion, she said, “In two weeks I could be nearly done with the reproduction. But I can’t buy supplies without money.”
He withdrew a checkbook from the inner pocket of his coat along with a pen. He really was a relic. Who wrote checks anymore?
“Five thousand. And I want the reproductioncompletein two weeks. This is your full time job until that time. You eat it; you breathe it; you sleep it. You’ll get more money when you deliver.”
Saskia snatched the check from his hand. “I hope you know, all future payments will be in the form of a wire transfer. I’ll give you the account number the next time we meet.”
“Of course.”
She got out of the car and slammed the door.
The window eased down. “Saskia?”
“What?”
“Forgot your lunch.” He tossed the purse at her. She almost toppled in the heels as she reached out and grabbed it mid-air. That reallywasher lunch.
She’d failed as an original artist and as a reproduction artist. So why not attempt con artist?
Stealing from Lachlan Niche would be the most satisfying thing she’d ever done. She couldn’t imagine a more deserving mark.
2
Saskia stepped out of the car that had been sent for her and gawked at Lachlan’s exquisite, imposing home as if seeing it for the first time. If only Lachlan didn’t live in it, this could be a pleasant experience. The driver took the wrapped painting out of the trunk.
“Careful with that!” she snapped.
He gave her an annoyed look as if he felt somehow offended he’d been sent to pick her up to begin with, and now that she dared speak to him as if he were the help, it was too much for him to bear. In truth, he looked more like a bodyguard than a driver. Tall, broad, bald on purpose. Maybe he was filling in for someone.
She had to stay focused and remember why she was doing this. The payoff would be worth it. One big score, and then it was a tropical island for her far away from Lachlan Niche.
The gold bangles at her wrists jangled as she straightened the vermillion skirt and pulled it down a couple of inches. The skirt was a bit too short, the white top dipped a touch too low. Her legs were bare because the nude heels on her feet were sling-backs with a cut-out toe and never looked quite right with pantyhose. Ordinarily an outfit like this made her feel like a civilized person—as if she weren’t barely scraping by. But today, it made her feel vulnerable. If she hadn’t been running late, she would have changed.
Lachlan waited in the entryway just inside the house as if it had taken all his self-control not to run out to meet her at the car. “Marcus, take the painting to my study.”
Marcus nodded and disappeared down the hall. She’d had to work from a bad photograph of the piece, but it was the only thing that might save her from having to do the real heist. She could possibly pull it off, but that wasn’t part of the plan. Lachlan didn’t deserve to own the real piece.
Running a tech company as well as being an art collector, he’d be well aware of all the art authenticating software available. She’d studied Quill’s work with an almost religious fervor, but the software made it nearly impossible to perfectly duplicate another’s already-existing work without getting caught. Brushstrokes were analyzed. A scanned image of the original work could be broken down into small geometric cubes and compared frame by frame with the questioned piece.
It was easier these days to commit forgery by pawning off “lost or undiscovered works” as authentic. Though with enough samples of other work by the same artist, the software could still detect less-skilled forgeries. The bar just kept rising higher.
With this particular piece in private hands well before Quill had gotten famous, there had been no good scan of the image available to analyze. Lucky for her.
Lachlan held out both his hands to Saskia as if welcoming the Prodigal Son home. She pasted on a fake smile and allowed him to draw her in. If both of his hands were in hers, they couldn’t be drifting over other parts of her body. Being conned was exactly what he’d earned for all the times he’d pawed at her.
It took great effort to keep her breakfast down at that thought. Saskia couldn’t understand how women fell repeatedly into Lachlan’s arms. He was ridiculously wealthy and conventionally attractive. And he gave off that dominant alpha-male vibe that so many women seemed to swoon over. But could those same women not feel the ick? The sleaze that dripped off him like motor oil? This was a man who would use, abuse, and then laugh at you for trusting him.
No, thanks.
Could a semi-intelligent, lucid woman actually tolerate his touch? Even with him only holding Saskia’s hands, she couldn’t pull out of his embrace fast enough.
When the driver returned, Lachlan said, “Shall we?”
Saskia nodded with a tight smile and followed him to the study where they’d have some privacy. She was sure the staff couldn’t be trusted to be in on this, but the idea of being alone in a small dark-paneled room with him made her skin crawl.
