Page 71 of The One-Night Heist

The truth was, I would never know. After I returned Giano’s art, he’d fill my shady off-shore bank account with the agreed upon funds, and my life would finally be my own again, to do with as I pleased. Even with all that freedom, however, I couldn’t see myself suddenly going “straight.”

I’m here for a good time, not a long time.

Which gives me an idea…

“Agent Lowry?” I cleared my throat and put on my best deferential demeanor. “I believe an investigation this, uh, delicate may require unorthodox methods. With your permission, I would like to reach out to an old connection of mine here in Italy, to see if they’ve heard anything about Mr. Luxford’s art through their… network.”

Aka, the black market.

My boss was deadly silent, and I knew I would get a talking to later for making my request with an audience instead of presenting it privately. I probably would have gone about it the correct way under different circumstances, but the idea to give Giano a fucking break while catching up with my old partner in crime had only just occurred to me, and who was I to deny the spark of genius when it arose?

“Permission granted, Rowen,” Lowry sighed, knowing it wasn’t worth the fight. “You will email me more information, I assume?”

I grinned, flashing the gap in my teeth Giano apparently thought was “perfect.”

He’s such a cute little weirdo.

“I will send you as much information as possible, while still respecting the privacy of my contact,” was how I replied, little shit that I was.

My boss pursed her lips together while someone—not Mr. Samuel—loudly scoffed from the Sotheby’s New York feed.

Yeah, they were definitely discussing little ol’ me.

The Sotheby’s Italy reps mostly seemed confused by our antics, but Giano insisted they stay for a bit after New York left the meeting, graciously handing out glasses of limoncello and conversing in fluent Italian—with periodic interpretations for my sake—until everyone said their goodbyes.

Then, we were alone again.

It had been well after midnight when we initially checked in, and after making sure I was all set on my side of the massive suite, Giano had disappeared. While I would have preferred we’d fucked before parting ways, he’d no doubt done it to give me space.

Space I may no longer want…

It wasn’t like I wanted him all up in my business, but every time his attention turned my way, I felt this weird tightness in my chest, and when his attention was elsewhere the tightness only got worse.

So I guess this is happening.

What else was happening was I was about to veer into dangerously “coupley” territory by suggesting we travel together—by choice, as opposed to coerced kidnapping.

I barely recognize myself right now.

“Rowen, would you like to see any sights of Rome before we travel to…”

“Florence,” I answered Giano’s unspoken question because there was no point in keeping secrets from him at this point.

Especially when he’s about to meet the man who made this international trip possible.

I joined him at the window and peered at the goddamn Pantheon in the square below. “Well, I guess I should see the Colosseum, right? Maybe the Sistine Chapel?”

Maybe eat authentic carbonara off your ass.

As if rightfully assuming my thoughts had turned filthy, Giano smirked. “Would it be terrible if I told you I don’t think you need to see the Sistine Chapel?”

Gasp!

I dramatically pressed a hand to my chest. “Giancarlo Luxford, the great lover of art, doesn’t think the world famous Sistine Chapel is worth it?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t. Yes, I appreciate the pure talent of Michelangelo, but he considered himself a sculptor, not a painter, and believed sculpture was a higher calling in general. The Sistine Chapel was nothing but a commission to him—a commission he refused at first—and I believe it shows. Plus… the panel everyone crowds in there to see—Creation of Adam—is a lot smaller than you’d expect.”

I scoffed, slightly turned on by him poo-pooing such a famous work of art. “I thought you liked small paintings?”