It hadn’t been that long ago, but it had been a much simpler time. Her sister had still been alive, Gammy’s illness hadn’t deteriorated too much. Everything had been so manageable.
Josie hadn’t committed her first theft back then.
She hadn’t had two identities or heavy secrets. She had just been a young woman, hiding her witchy talents. Her witch blood wasn’t very strong, only a bit of magic coursed through her veins, but it was enough to get her out of jams where there were plants or other earthy things around. The powers had been passed down from Gammy, but it had been diluted by marrying too many mortals through the generations.
That was a mistake Josie wasn’t going to make.
If she ever found a man, she would make sure that he had powers, too. She wanted to pass down her Gammy’s legacy, and that could only be done with a fellow witch.
That was a hypothetical problem for much later. Although Josie was close to celebrating her thirty-third birthday, she wasn’t too concerned about making babies yet. She had a best friend and her Gammy to save by following along with Milo Steiner’s blackmailing threats.
Josie’s plan started with getting a legitimate job in the city.
Thankfully, Josie had multiple contacts in the antiques dealing world. One of them was a dear professor of hers who taught art history at her alma mater in town. Benicio Betancourt had been all too happy to put out feelers for her in the Big Apple.
The thought process was clear.
Josie needed to have an official job on the books, something that would explain her prolonged presence in New York City should anyone ever link her up with jewel heists. And with the break-in at Warwick Bank. It was a crucial part of her process, and one that had kept the Interpol watchdog off her tail. She needed that security even more for this job. It was one thing to secure the legitimate job to explain her presence in the city. Breaking into a bank?
Not an easy thing to do.
Josie had never tried that before. Auction houses? Private properties? Sure. Those were easy-breezy. A bank? Not so much. Especially not the Warwick Bank. Josie had a feeling, in the bottom of her gut, that the Warwicks were a family of shifters. She could recognize the signs, of course. They had more money than the Almighty himself. That could only mean that the Warwicks had been accumulating wealth over a long period of time.
Another good piece of evidence were the family members themselves. Each of the three Warwick brothers was hot as sin, dipped in sex appeal, and rolled around in yummy muscles, and sprinkled with allure.
Even the reclusive Paris was hot in his own tortured artist's way.
Breaking into their property felt like a suicide mission, but Josie didn’t have a choice. She would never have picked this particular mark for a heist. Milo Steiner was one crazy mother fucker for messing with the Warwicks. That was probably why he had blackmailed her into doing the heist.
It was literally the only way anyone would ever fuck with the all-powerful family.
Josie pushed that away from her mind as she made her way to her destination. She could panic about that heist later. Just then, she needed to focus on the first part of her plan. That was getting her authentic job.
That’s what led her to the Ritz-Carlton.
It was one of the most luxurious hotels in all of New York City. It was right across the street from Central Park and was only about a fifteen-minute walk from Times Square. It was much simpler to walk the short distance. Taking a cab would take six times as long, and would cost a kidney, maybe a liver.
Josie’s heels weren’t exactly the best footwear for the walk, but she’d soldier on. Her shoes clicked against the crowded sidewalks as she walked down 7th Avenue and turned right onto West 59th Street. By the time she reached the lobby, her toes were curled into her shoes in a hard pinch. At least the stilettos made her legs look killer, completing her professional outfit.
Professor Betancourt hadn’t told her who she was meeting with, so Josie had made sure to be fashionable yet presentable. Her black wrap dress with the thick braided silver belt was sure to please any sort of potential client.
With her head held high, Josie made her way to the reception desk and stated her business to the concierge.
“I have a meeting with Armstrong,” she said.
“That’s taking place in the Royal Suite,” the woman answered as she clicked her fingers onto her computer.
Josie tried not to swallow her tongue. A simple room in the hotel cost over a grand a night. She couldn’t even imagine what it would cost to have a royal suite. Josie blew out a breath.
“Do I have to give you my fingerprints or something before you let me up?”
The concierge pursed her lips, not at all amused by Josie’s joke. She rolled her eyes and waited for the grumpy woman to walk around the corner to lead her to the elevator.
It was a whole other world than what Josie was used to. She’d met with other hoity-toity clients before, but she never would get used to it. Especially not when she had to be escorted to the elevator and the penthouse like a common thief.
It’s not like people knew she was a thief.
The lack of trust always chafed her.
The concierge knocked on one of the two large white doors. It didn’t take long for the knocking to be answered by the hottest older woman Josie had ever seen up close.
“Holy—” Josie stopped herself just in time. Swearing in the presence of fashion royalty would have been a terrible crime. Sort of like wearing white after Labor Day. Was that still a fashion rule? Josie made a note to ask her newest client.
“You’re Johanna Warwick,” she hadn’t been able to keep the sense of wonder from her voice.
Shit-shit-shit! This was a surprise, and not one that she welcomed. Her two identities, her two worlds, which she always tried very hard to keep apart, were converging in a very real way. Josie wanted to book it, but she couldn’t.
Not without earning her some serious questions from her old professor. That was a bridge she couldn’t burn if she wanted to work in the antiques dealing world ever again.
The elegant woman gave her a warm smile. “That’s what they tell me.” She turned toward the hotel staff member. “Thanks, Sharon. I’ve got it from here.”
Sharon got one last parting shot, giving Josie a judgmental up and down. Her glare silently screamed, who the hell are you that you get to meet with this goddess? Josie wanted to stick out her tongue to Sharon, but instead, she gave Johanna a bright smile.
“I’m sorry about that. Professor Betancourt didn’t tell me you were the client. I thought I was meeting a man named Armstrong.”
Johanna’s green eyes glimmered. “My assistant,” she clarified. “At my age, it’s easy to get overly bored. I like to keep things interesting and determine if a person is worth my time.”
“And their reaction to who you are is a good test of that?”
“Yes,” the woman laughed. “Some people, believe it or not, immediately fawn at my feet, begging for a favor. Others turn up their nose and pretend they have no idea who I am.”
“What happens to people who gush?” Josie said, suddenly very nervous.
“Well, when it’s as adorably done as you just did, I don’t slam the door right away.”
Josie froze, earning her another laugh from Johanna.
“Dear child, I am teasing you. Benecio is a darling old friend, and if he vouches for you, then I know that you’re not going to snap a picture of me or spill some family secrets to the press.”