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And there it was again, a taller flame, a deeper warmth. She wanted to keep it burning. “I got the first model inconvenienced.”
“How?”
“She had an unfortunate accident at the gym.”
His brows furrowed.
“Broke both her hands.”
He snorted. “You took her out?”
“I dumped a dumbbell on her fingers.”
“Jesus.”
She shrugged. “They’re insured. She’ll be fine.”
“Then you dyed your hair, all this hair,” he tangled his hand in it and smiled, “and somehow conned the modeling agency to present you as an alternative.”
“I paid off the booking agent.”
“Of course you did. And the shoe?”
“Specially made by a friend.”
“Pari Sikander-Jah.”
“She sold it into the magazine as part of the shoot.”
“And months before you came up with this long con, you worked out the shoe idea, started starving yourself and practicing that pratfall and the sleight of hand.”
“You know all that because of your men in the room?”
“And a video feed. And because the stone I snatched was a fake. I’ve watched you on screen a thousand times and I still might not have worked out how you did it.”
He’d gone ahead and snatched the fake stone. She’d fooled even the great Cleve Jones, the Shadow. Total forest fire in her chest. He had to be able to see it glowing under her skin. “What gave me away?”
He traced a finger over her brow. “Your fake musical name.” Dammit. She had to quit it with the music terms conceit for her aliases. “And your glorious laugh.”
Only this man would catch her on those details.
“A near perfect crime, Aria. Until that moment where you realized you were going to get away with it and you lost it, laughed like the real you. Still, I only understood it was you after I was holding the fake Celestia.”
Pride before the fall. He had caught her. She’d have to deal with that. “So now what? One of us double-crosses the other?”
He stroked her hair back from her face. “I think we should eat.”
“You aren’t going to take Celestia from me?” He’d be hard-pressed because Celestia wasn’t here and not even the Shadow could be in two places at once.
“I’m going to order room service. A little celebration feast.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re going to need the calories, because I’m going to take them out of your hide with a dozen more orgasms.”
Best not to let him see he made her happy. She rolled her eyes. He slapped her ass and bounded out of bed toward the phone. Huh, well, she could eat, but there was the pressing matter of her new coat, left in the coat-check of the club. She had to go get it.
While he checked the room service menu, she visited the bathroom and cleaned up, emerging dressed in jeans and a sweater.
“I have to go out for a while.” She winced. This was awkward. He’d know Celestia wasn’t in the room if she was willing to leave him here alone.
He was back on the bed, wearing a hotel robe, his cell in his hand. Who had he been talking to?
