Page 39 of The One-Night Heist

That wasn’t entirely true. First on my bucket list would be Rome, then a quick stop in Florence before heading onto Paris, Greece—probably one of the islands—Dublin… Portugal was up there too, mostly because I’d heard Lisbon was a chill city.

It’s no Manhattan, I’m sure…

But maybe that’s a good thing?

It suddenly hit me that this international adventure planning would be a hell of a lot easier with someone who knew the ropes, but with the kind of money I was about to have at my disposal, I could always hire a travel agent or…

Nope.

Don’t even think about it.

Of fucking course, that was the moment Giancarlo decided to message me back.

Moneybags

I need to tell you something the next time we meet.

Oh???

Even though waiting for the tea was going to kill me, I understood Giano probably couldn’t get away from rich asshole charity gala duties to chit-chat. Plus, I didn’t do phone calls anyway.

You don’t do relationships either…

I’m all ears, baby.

Cracking open another Modelo tallboy, I gazed out over my little kingdom, daring to hope that maybe—if I was lucky—there could be more for me out there after all.

Thirteen

Giancarlo

The charity gala was insufferable after only an hour, mostly because my mind was—understandably—elsewhere, but also because of how much attention I was receiving.

It wasn’t surprising, considering the charity being honored focused on treating Lymphoma—the very disease that took my mother. In fact, tonight’s event was being held in her memory, which was lovely, but also brought up some painful memories of my own.

Like how I was unable to save her.

“How are you doing, Gianechka?” Anastasia whispered in my ear after the latest throng of condolers dispersed to hobnob elsewhere. “And remember… it’s okay to say it’s complicated, bitch.”

I laughed at that, because Ana knew full well it was complicated, and that was putting it nicely. My entire relationship with my mother had been rife with hurt and betrayal, but being by her bedside the last year as she wasted away had at least given us the chance to heal some of the emotional wounds before she was gone.

And, if all goes to plan, I can fix the rest…

Whether I could accomplish that relied completely on the man I wished was here with me tonight—the one who had just sent me an encrypted message full of indecipherable emojis—if only to hear his snarky commentary on the various Luxford Holdings shareholders mingling in the crowd.

All the “rich assholes.”

“Ah, Giancarlo, there you are.”

Speaking of one of the many devils.

“Mr. Divani.” I nodded politely as we shook hands. “Thank you for coming.”

This time.

Abraham Divani cleared his throat. “Yes, and my apologies for not attending your mother’s memorial. Stella and I were… indisposed on Kish.”

“Understood,” I replied, even if his excuse was complete bullshit.