Page 14 of The One-Night Heist

My gaze dropped to where he was holding a small glass Millefiori paperweight I vaguely recalled Mother buying while vacationing in Italy.

He… stole from me?

Again?

I was momentarily speechless and more turned on than I’d ever been in my life. It was only thanks to my practiced self-control that I didn’t throw him over my shoulder and carry him upstairs to the third floor, audience be damned.

Misinterpreting my silence, Rowen practically shoved the contraband at me. “Jesus, just… take it. You got me feeling bad over a fucking knickknack.”

I suppressed a shiver as my fingers brushed his before dropping the foolish paperweight into my suit jacket pocket.

“Just don’t tell Daddy Pinstripes, okay?” he huffed, pointedly tilting his head toward the guests below. “He already had to save you from me once.”

Daddy Pinstripes…?

Scanning the crowd, I immediately realized who he was referring to, noting the man in question watching Rowen and I curiously from beneath his fedora.

“Franz is protective of me…” I carefully replied, nodding once at my mentor to signal I was fine.

Never better.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Rowen asked, stunning me into silence once again. “More importantly, does he leave the hat on during… you know?”

He paused to gesture obscenely, and I grabbed both his hands to stop the demonstration before angling my body between him and the crowd below.

“What are you doing?” I hissed under my breath, glancing over my shoulder in a panic.

This event was my one chance to increase interest in my mother’s collection—well, aside from what I still needed to discuss with Rowen—and my guests witnessing X-rated hand gestures would not play in my favor.

I pray Mrs. Winchester didn’t see.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Rowen grinned like the devil as I started herding him along the mezzanine toward a more private area of the apartment. “Are you the one wearing the hat in these situations?”

“I…” I swallowed thickly, no longer sure what we were talking about, but knowing one thing for sure. “Franz isn’t my boyfriend. It’s… not like that at all.”

A brief flash of uncertainty appeared on Rowen’s deceptively cherubic face. “Oh. Oh, no. Are you…” He lowered his voice to a horrified whisper. “A heterosexual?”

I couldn’t stop the bark of laughter that escaped me—the first time I’d laughed so freely in a while—and from the way Rowen’s eyes widened, it surprised him as well.

“No,” I chuckled, turning us down a hallway lined with bookshelves. “I am not heterosexual in the least.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” he huffed as a smirk twisted his lips. “I didn’t want to have to be the one to point out you’ve been shamelessly flirting with me since we met.”

I have?!

Abruptly stopping, I immediately put distance between us, even though I hated it with every fiber of my being. “Forgive me, Rowen. That was incredibly unprofessional of me.”

He cocked his head and observed me for a moment—quietly assessing while giving nothing away. “Are you… wanting to keep things professional between us?”

No.

“What I need to talk to you about is of a professional nature, yes,” I hedged, tamping down the urge to say—or do—more until I’d proposed my plan.

In case it makes him run.

Not that I’d let him.

After another beat of silence, he nodded once. “Lead the way.”