But I owe her some kind of answer, so she’ll at least know I’m in deep with her as well. “Sin… when this is over, I’m ready to explore everything with you. I promise. I’m sorry I can’t give you more right this moment, but—”
Her fingers cover my mouth, halting my words. When she shakes her head, it causes a ripple through that beautiful crown of hair. “I trust you, Saint. I believe in you enough to wait until you feel the time is right. And that’s all I need right now.”
Yeah… I’m probably still fucking in love with this woman. Since we’ve reconnected, she’s proven to me over and over again why I should be. Sin gets me better than anyone ever has.
“But…” she murmurs, taking my chin between her fingers to make me look at her. “I won’t step back from this no matter how many times you ask, Saint, so don’t do it again. I’m with you until the end of this caper, so suck it up, okay?”
I’d hoped for a different answer. I had fucking prayed she’d entertain the idea of letting me get Mercier off her back so I could concentrate solely on bringing him down instead of needing to worry about her. I had wanted to remove her as a distraction.
But I should have known better. My sweet, beautiful, and brave Sin isn’t going to let fear over what we might face control her. She’s going to insist on standing by my side until the very end.
I hate hearing her confirm that, because now I’ll need Cruce’s help to make sure she stays safe.
So be it.
All I can do is act like I accept her proclamation. When I capitulate with a, “Fine. Partners ’til the end,” I don’t even feel bad over the bald-faced lie.
Her return smile is beautiful, and I memorize it. “Partners in crime.”
“Always,” I murmur, drawing her closer. If we come out of this, my life of crime is over. I hope Sin feels the same.
There’s a slight tap on my shoulder. “Excusez-moi.”
My head turns to see Julian Mercier is the one who interrupted us. Insides briefly icing over—had he heard anything he shouldn’t have?—I halt our dance, tugging Sin to my side.
Julian gives me a polite nod. “So glad you could make it tonight.”
Without waiting for a reply, he gives Sin an appraising once-over.
“Ma petite, tu fais de l’ombre à tout le monde.” At her blank look, he flashes her a grin and laughs. “Ah… Sin, may I have this dance with you?”
No fucking clue what he said first, but I know it wasn’t that because dance sounds practically the same in both languages. I also hadn’t liked the seductive timbre in his tone. Nor do I appreciate the way his eyes seem to burn into Sin’s.
Suddenly, all thoughts of playing nice evaporate. All I can think about is beating him to a pulp right here on his expensive, parqueted ballroom floor. I’d gladly break a few knuckles to slaughter him, right here, right now.
But then Sin’s voice breaks through the haze. With a flirty laugh, she lets him down gently. “While I’d love to, Julian, I was just telling Saint how badly my feet hurt in these new shoes. Women’s fashion is for the birds.” With a cheeky wink, she continues, “But tell me—what did that first phrase you said mean?”
To my relief, Julian appears disappointed instead of offended as he chuckles. Dropping his voice to a silky murmur, he answers. “Ma petite, tu fais de l’ombre à tout le monde—My dear, your beauty puts everyone else in the shade.”
Sin giggles, covering her mouth. Mercier looks pleased with her reaction while I have to fight off my murderous feelings again.
But then I get excited when he glances between us and says, “If I can’t tempt Sin into a dance, then perhaps you two would like to accompany me down to the lower level? We have some private matters to discuss.”
A thrill runs through me. I don’t dare look at Sin, afraid my expression will give me away.
But this is it.
He’s going to let us in on the big plan. We can finally start the real work of taking him down and ending this whole thing.
So I can get on with my life.
With Sin.
CHAPTER 22
Sin
Saint and I follow Mercier to the door the guard turned us away from earlier. The same guard is there, holding the door open for us.
There’s an ornate wooden staircase that descends to the basement level of the château. It’s cavernous, seeming even bigger than the upper levels, yet it feels plush at the same time because of the thick carpeting and silk wallpaper.
It feels as if we entered into an art museum from all the gorgeous paintings in ornate frames on the wall. Professional up-lighting provides the right ambience to fully appreciate the art. There are several marble pedestals topped with busts and sculptures. Glass cases hold ornate jewelry—some of it looking incredibly old, maybe even from royal lineage—displayed in a line down the middle of the floor. Antique furniture dots the perimeters along the walls and in corners.
Even with my well-trained thief’s eye, I cannot tell what is legit or what might be stolen. My gut says it’s legit because it would be too risky to leave it out in the open like this, even with a guard manning the door above. Besides, people who are sociopathic enough to steal risky high-end items do it because they are addicted to possessing such rare items. The goods are usually so revered they are hidden away and only taken out to relish in private. I’m betting he has a hidden room or vault somewhere to protect his illegal collectibles.
Mercier moves through the area slowly, his gaze traveling over several of the pieces he has on display. It’s clear he has a genuine love—probably more like a sick obsession—with all of this stuff. However, I’m just as sure part of his love is not only for the beauty, but also for merely owning something most cannot.
Mercier moves to a pair of double wooden doors with ornate carvings, then opens them. Inside is a huge office with dark paneled walls, heavy masculine furniture, and heavy velvet drapes that cover the windows.
William sits in a guest chair, and he stands as we enter. He’s not dressed in formal attire like the rest of us, which says he wasn’t invited to the party upstairs. Then again, I’m thinking we’re not here for the party either, but for an important meeting to find out our next quest.
Mercier motions us into chairs as he settles behind his desk. Once we’re all sitting, he leans forward and clasps his hands on the desktop. His gaze flicks between us before he gives a cordial smile.
“I’m ready to discuss the next job I have for you two,” he says, and my heart sinks a little. If he’s planning one of the greatest heists of all time, it’s going to take more than just Saint and me to pull it off. I don’t want to do another “job”. I’m ready to take this arsehole down so I can get on with my life.
Apparently, Saint is thinking along the same lines because he says, “No offense, Julian… but I’m tired of working ‘jobs’ for you. I wanted on your team because I thought you had the capability to pull off something big.”
I’m slightly shocked by Saint calling Mercier out like that, especially since we’d watched him kill Neal in cold blood. But admittedly, it’s smart. We need some indication of when this might be over, and this is Saint’s way of digging for information.