Page 80 of The One-Night Heist

Let’s play.

I took my time removing my suit jacket and hanging it in the closet near the door. Then, I removed my cufflinks and set them in a nearby copper dish along with my money clip and phone before checking my appearance in the gilded mirror above the small credenza.

“Start talking, Rowen. Tell me why you did it.” My neutral tone became firm as I added, “And I want the truth.”

Please.

Rowen awkwardly shifted in his leather chair, looking every bit the delinquent sent to the headmaster’s office. “Well…” He cleared his throat, his nervous gaze darting around the room before meeting mine. “Which offense are we talking about specifically?”

Sigh.

“Is my art even in Italy?”

With the way his eyebrows shot up, that was the last thing he’d expected me to ask, but what Rowen Quincy didn’t understand was I’d been raised in a house of smoke and mirrors, where everyone I encountered—including family—had an angle they were playing.

Do you finally see?

Do you finally see how alike we are?

He swallowed thickly as I approached, watching as I rolled up my sleeves, although he didn’t seem afraid. “No.” He shook his head, sharply inhaling when I stopped a few feet away. “Your art was never here.”

Now we’re getting somewhere.

I nodded and crossed my arms. “The photos sent to the Post came from Mick, I assume?”

“Yeah…” He grimaced. “I mean, Mick reproduced the Picasso so the sighting would seem legit, and then took the photos at one of his client’s villas, but it was Lucy who hacked the IP address so no one could trace the email back to the source.”

This is all just a game to him.

I blew out a slow breath. “So your foster siblings know about the job?” I gritted out, clenching my fists by my sides, mostly to stop myself from putting him over my knee.

His brow furrowed, his cherubic face displaying genuine confusion. “Well… yeah. They’re my partners⁠—”

“Then what am I?” I growled, taking another step toward him.

Rowen’s green eyes widened in alarm. “You’re… my…”

Say it.

At this point I was daring him—to lie or tell the truth, I wasn’t sure—but I was tired of chasing the inevitable when we both knew how this needed to end.

With him being mine.

“Your client?” I sneered, hungrily tracking the movement as he swallowed again. “The party who hired you to do a job. That’s it, right?”

He dropped his gaze. “Like I said. I’m sorry.”

Oh, no you don’t.

“If it’s just business, then why play cat and mouse with me?” I continued mercilessly, knowing we were dancing closer to the truth. “If all you were doing was fulfilling your end of the bargain, we wouldn’t be here in Italy together⁠—”

“The only reason we’re in Italy together is because you strong-armed me into being your liaison!” Rowen yelled, hands gripping the arms of the chair, fury making him even more beautiful—like a vengeful angel in a Renaissance painting. “You just had to control me⁠—”

“I wanted to free you!” I shouted in return, throwing my hands in the air. “I wanted to have a valid excuse to see you and be seen with you, while giving you an excuse to get away from the FBI Art Crime Team, where you clearly don’t belong!”

Because you belong with me.

He scoffed, looking unconvinced as he leaned back in the chair, but he also didn’t argue.