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Or could I?
That would be pretty bad job etiquette, but the thought intrigued me. It wouldn’t be that hard. I’d gotten away with stuff like that before. Just not with anything nearly as valuable as that necklace was.
Fuck.
It was stunts like that which made up most of my high school career. If you put me on a mission to find anything, anything at all, I’d find it, whether it was a dollar bill, a ring, a stolen car, the works, especially if it was a pretty jewel. I didn’t know why I was so good at finding things. It was just a special skill that I’d been blessed with all my life. I was bad at finding people or animals—just as bad as anyone else, I imagine, but with stuff—well, as far as I could tell, Saint Anthony, the patron saint of lost and stolen articles, didn’t have shit on me.
Back in my freshman year of high school, a friend of mine had lost her mother’s locket during Phys. Ed. She’d taken it off during class and come back to see that her locker had been broken into. It had taken me less than an hour to find it discarded in a bush about a block away from the school.
I didn’t know how it got there or who had even stolen it in the first place, but none of that was important. I’d found the locket and that was what mattered.
Word spread about my success, and soon, my reputation as the go-to person for finding things had solidified. It was a peculiar superpower, one that I didn’t quite understand myself, but I’d come to rely on it time and time again. And hell, it had made me a bunch of money over the years, but my jobs had been few and far between. It was hard to find new clients based on word of mouth alone.
It was growing dark outside, and I was supposed to close the shop up on my own. I had the place to myself. Murtagh had already left for the day and hadn’t said anything about coming back before he’d handed me the keys and gone out the front door.
I could almost smell Murtagh’s cinnamon and clove scent in the room. He was a fascinating man. He wasn’t overly friendly, but I felt drawn to him in a way that I shouldn’t. No doubt he was twice my age, but my silly little brain kept thinking about how a little thing like that didn’t really matter if it made me happy.
I shook my head, the light catching a particularly pretty tanzanite tennis bracelet, and I stopped my fantasizing short.
Murtagh was my boss now, which meant that he was off-limits.
Come on, Zazie! Didn’t they always say not to mix business with pleasure?
My brain understood that, but my body didn’t want to listen. I wanted to turn my jealousy into something dirty. Something that I had never craved before.
Too bad he was going to really hate me and make things awkward as soon as I stole his necklace. Which I was totally going to do; it wasn’t an if as much as a when.
The clock ticked behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder. Closing time was just minutes away, and I kind of wanted to sneak into the back and just look at the necklace one more time.
Looking wouldn’t hurt right?
With a shaky breath, I locked the front door and glanced around the quiet space. The diamond necklace in Murtagh’s office tugged at my thoughts, and despite my internal battle, curiosity quickly won over caution. I tiptoed towards the back, all while I held my breath in anticipation.
Entering Murtagh’s office, I felt the atmosphere shift. The air held a faint scent of leather from the worn-out chair behind the desk. It was a space devoid of any technology, no sleek computer or digital screens in sight. Instead, stacks of paper covered the desk. The walls were covered with built-in shelves, each one straining under the weight of files, books, and binders. There was even an old-fashioned corded phone hooked on the wall. It was a little strange now that I thought about it.
Who didn’t have a computer in this day and age?
Maybe to leave room for the huge pile of snack food he kept there where a computer was supposed to be. Maybe he couldn’t do both and chose with his heart. And his stomach. For a man that didn’t have any fat on his body, he had the nutritional palate of a pudgy preteen gamer boy.
My eyes were drawn to the glass cabinet containing the diamond necklace that had been haunting my thoughts. It sparkled in the dim light, casting delicate reflections on the surrounding jewels. I hesitated, torn between the desire to admire its beauty and the awareness that I was trespassing on forbidden territory.
The clock on the wall ticked away, a reminder of the limited time I had before I needed to get out of here. My hand reached out to the cabinet, fingers grazing the cool glass.
Glancing around to ensure I was truly alone, I selected a key that seemed to match the lock on the glass cabinet. As I slid it in, a quiet click signaled success, and the cabinet door swung open with a whisper.
My breath caught as I delicately lifted the diamond necklace from its display. The pendant sparkled in my hands, casting a play of light that danced across the room. Its intricate design captivated me—the way each diamond was meticulously set creating a breathtaking cascade of brilliance that I couldn’t look away from.
I marveled at the craftsmanship, the delicate chain feeling weightless between my fingers. As I held the necklace, time slowed, and I found myself lost in its ethereal beauty. Unable to help myself, and completely lost as to what consequences were attached to the action, I opened my purse and slipped it inside. I was just reaching to close the zipper when I heard a deep, sudden rumble of a man clearing his throat, and I jumped about a mile in the air.
“What are you doing?”
With a start, I squeaked and nearly threw my purse into the air—straight upwards. I caught it before it was too late and jerked my gaze to the door.
Murtagh was standing in the doorframe, leaning against it with a weary expression on his face.
Fuck. How long had he been standing there? Had he seen me slip the necklace in my purse? Had he noticed the glass case was empty? Was there any way in the world I hadn’t just fucked myself right out of a job and straight into a jail cell? Without even getting to spoon with the necklace for a couple of nights?
“Nothing,” I tried, but it didn’t look like he believed me. “Just closing up your office.”
