Romance of a Robbery: Thieves of Desire Book 5, page 3
“I need a piece that I can pretend I would like to donate to the museum. Something that would, at first glance, be considered an artifact that they would include in their collection.”
“A new piece would never be considered an artifact.”
“No, I never suggested that it would be,” he said, obviously not pleased that she would challenge him. Annabelle was aware that not many did. “It would never, of course, pass inspection from any true expert. It would just have to be a good enough replication that it would be believable from a distance or a quick glance.”
“I see,” she said, biting her lip. She hated how much she loved the idea of a challenge as he suggested.
“So…” he said, and now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see the outline of his face. He had a strong jaw, bold eyebrows, and eyes that cut right through a person as though he could see through to their very soul – one he would try to steal for the devil himself, Annabelle was sure. “…can you do it?”
Annabelle snorted. “Of course I can do it,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “The question is, do I want to?”
“In addition to creating the piece – which would have to be done rather soon,” he continued as though she hadn’t said anything. “I would need you to pretend you enjoyed visiting the museum for other purposes. Perhaps you have an itch to study the marbles themselves because you are a sculptor?”
“I’ve never sculpted before,” she said, although she had to admit that she wasn’t opposed to the idea of trying.
“Could you learn the basics?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s all that matters. If you are pretending to be a woman of leisure, you only need to be a hobbyist. If you’d like to try your hand at it, I have already prepared supplies for you.”
He gestured across the large expanse of the room to a table on the other side. Annabelle realized that this room was never supposed to be a study – it was probably originally a parlor or a bedroom or something of the sort. Arie, however, had obviously decided that he needed something much grander than the usual desk and bookshelves for the base of his operations. She wondered where all of the illegal aspects of the business were conducted. He was too smart of a man to keep everything here.
She looked at the clay and the metal tools beside it, her fingers itching to create, even if it was in a material with which she was unfamiliar. Somehow, however, the thought of doing as he said seemed like giving in.
“I shouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “Besides, I never agreed to help you.”
“You have not said that you have agreed to it, no,” he said, his dark brows slanting over his eyes. “But you will.”
“I will not,” she said, her hands coming to her hips, and she realized she must have stretched the bodice of her dress over her breasts, for Arie’s eyes dropped from her face and she felt a tingle over her skin where he was studying her. She waited for revulsion to overcome her, but instead a strange heat washed over her. What was wrong with her?
“I will not,” she repeated, only this time she knew that she was saying it more for her own benefit than she was for Arie’s – and her denial had nothing to do with the scheme but with the man himself.
He pushed back his chair, and it scraped across the floor, the sound echoing throughout the quiet of the room. His footsteps were like the ticking of a clock, inching toward the end – or the start – of something as he walked toward her. Annabelle refused to let herself retreat, even as he stood but a hair’s breadth away from her.
He intimidated everyone he met, she knew that, but there was something else that was present here in the room with them. A vibration that seemed to radiate off him and send shockwaves underneath her skin.
“Annabelle,” he said in a low tone, “you might as well just accept it. You have a desire for this, even if your mind is telling you no.”
“I don’t,” she said, nearly choking on the words, for she was well aware that he was, quite unfortunately, right.
“Very well,” he said, turning from her so abruptly that she nearly lost her breath. “Go, then.”
“Pardon me?” she squeaked out, taken aback by the sudden change within him.
“I would never, ever force a woman to do anything she didn’t desire,” he said. “So go. Leave. I will find someone else.”
Aggravation washed over Annabelle, forming her fists into balls. Was she really so replaceable? “Juliet said that your plan would never work without me.”
“Not true,” he said, retaking his seat and dipping his quill pen in the ink pot as though he was finished with their conversation and had moved on to something else. “It will never work without a woman in the role I need fulfilled. I can find someone else.”
She knew he was manipulating her, but she couldn’t help that his dismissal irked her. “But—”
“Take it or leave it, Miss Kennedy.”
So, she was back to Miss Kennedy. Annabelle nearly stamped her foot in frustration. She turned to go and was halfway out the door when the words escaped. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
CHAPTER 4
Arie could have shouted in triumph.
But he never showed his emotions, and he never gloated. Those were two rules that had helped shape his life. Keep people guessing, and he could remain a step ahead.
“Very well,” he said nonchalantly. “If you’d like to start practicing, do so.”
“But—I—” she sputtered, obviously expecting more gratitude from him. “That’s it? No, oh, thank you, Annabelle, you are making all of my dreams come true?”
If she actually knew the role she played in his dreams, she would be running from here and from him as fast as she could.
“If you are doing this for a thank you, then you are going to be sorely disappointed,” he said, lifting his head, enjoying the view in front of him. He knew he should have offered her a seat, but she looked far too delectable, standing there in all of her fury. It was a good thing that he angered her, for that would mean that she would never come too close. He reached into the organized stack of papers on his desk, pulling out a few painted images.
“Here are a few options that I had in mind for the artifact. You can study them and see if you are able to replicate any of them.”
She was too curious for her own good, for she reached out a hand and took them from him. As she did, her fingers brushed against his, and Arie lost his thoughts for a moment at the shock that coursed through him.
Annabelle seemed to have recovered much more quickly – if she was even bothered at all – as she flipped through the images.
“I could do any of them,” she said with a confidence that made him all the more attracted to her.
“But?”
“But this one would be the easiest to portray as an antique,” she said, passing him back one page. “It’s simple yet striking. I could also fabricate it the fastest.”
“Good,” he said with a nod of his head. “Do it. And tell me how much it will cost. I’ll pay you for all of the supplies.”
“Do you want real gems or forged ones?”
“Make it as real as you can,” he said, knowing it would cost him a great deal, but would be worth it in the end.
“Very well,” she murmured, studying it closer, and he could see the light in her eyes as they ran over the page as though she was brushing her fingers over a lover. She paused for a moment, staring not at him but over at the table where he had left the sketchpad, charcoal, and sculpting tools.
“Don’t let your pride stop you,” Arie growled, noting the narrowed eyes she sent his way, appreciating her feisty spirit, although he would never allow her to know it.
She began to walk to the door, hesitating in the threshold, and Arie couldn’t hide his triumphant smile when she turned around and took a few slow steps toward the table.
She reached down and picked up a piece of charcoal, her fingers obviously itching to put it to the page. Pulling out the chair that would allow her back to be all he would see of her, she sat down, placed the sketchpad in front of her, and bent over her work. Arie would have given anything to know what she was sketching, but she clearly wanted to prevent him from seeing what she was doing.
She couldn’t, however, stop him from the sight she presented to him. Her head was bent low over the page, tendrils of her blond hair brushing against the side of her neck. Her shoulders sloped gracefully, and Arie longed to walk over to her, to reach out and brush a hand over the soft skin illuminated by the dim light of the room.
Arie tried to return to the ledgers in front of him, but he found that he couldn’t take his eyes off Annabelle. The woman who hated him – and for good reason. Not that he would have it any other way.
Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer, and he pushed back his chair, his footsteps echoing throughout the room as he walked over to her. He stopped behind her, looking over the smooth slope of her neck. He knew she sensed him by the way her shoulders tensed up, although she didn’t stop her work.
“What are you drawing?” he asked, tilting his head as he studied her work.
“You told me to sculpt,” she murmured, her head still bowed. “If I work with it as I do with my jewellery, then I draw it first, make sure I have everything exactly as I’d like it. Then I go to work.”
Arie paused a beat. “I don’t think that’s how sculpting works.”
That got her attention, and she lifted her head up to look at him. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged. “I just don’t think that is how it works. I think you should put your hands on the clay, let the shape come to you. That would be true artistry.”
Her lips pressed together as she stared at him, her head tilted backward. “You would know this how? Are you some secret artist?”
He snorted. “I have no time for that.”
“Because art is not practical, is that it?”
He stepped away from her toward the wall, so that she wouldn’t have to crane her neck to meet his eye.
“I never said that.” He shook his head. “I obviously have an appreciation for it, if I am going to such lengths to see it returned.”
“But you wouldn’t do it yourself.”
“No,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I have more important things to do.”
She rolled her eyes. “Like taking from what other people have worked hard to earn.”
“Is the saying not, ‘let he who has not sinned be the first to cast the stone’?” Arie said, lifting a brow.
“I only ever stole from a man who deserved to be stolen from.”
“Then we are of the same mind,” Arie said, and she whirled back around, hiding the bright blue of her eyes from him once more.
“We are nothing alike,” she muttered.
“That is where I believe you are wrong,” Arie said. “For we are more alike than you know. But it doesn’t matter. Take the materials with you if you’d like to practice.”
“And then what?” she asked as she continued her sketching, mesmerizing Arie with the brush of her fingers over the paper.
“Then, once you have created the jewels, I will contact the museum and tell them that I have an artifact I would like to donate. I will tell them, however, that first I would like to get to know more about the museum and ensure that it will be safe there. When we are invited, we will visit.”
“Together?”
“Yes. You will pose as my wife.”
He swallowed down the ridiculous sense of excitement that accompanied his words. He would never have a wife – not now, not ever, and certainly not Annabelle.
She put down the piece of charcoal and sat back in her chair. “I must be honest with you, Arie.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
“I am not sure that I can play the doting wife to you.”
Arie’s wry smile did not match the slice of the knife that went through his heart. “Playing my wife is part of the job, Annabelle. No one said you had to be doting. Many a wife despises her husband.”
“I suppose that is true,” she said slowly, although he could tell the idea didn’t sit well with her.
“Take your things. I’ll send word when it’s time,” he said, walking away and back to the desk as he began to wonder if this was the worst idea he’d ever had. Maybe he should just tell her to forget it. For he wasn’t sure that he could go through with all of this and know that no matter how she acted, that’s all it was – an act.
She took the soft bag he had left on the table and began to place everything within it, not saying anything as she did so, until she looked up, her eyes piercing him.
“I have to ask you something.”
“Then ask it,” he said, hating when people announced they had a question. It was a waste of words.
“Why does this mean so much to you?”
He paused before answering as he debated how much to share with her. Finally, he decided that he might as well provide the truth.
“Because nearly thirty years ago, my father was killed protecting these very statues from outsiders. But it didn’t matter what he did, for they were taken anyway. Then my mother died of a broken heart mourning him and I was left alone. Greece was already at the mercy of the Ottomans. They didn’t need the English coming in and making everything worse.”
Her mouth dropped open in shock, which he had been expecting. But she had asked for the truth, and there it was.
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly, but he waved away her sympathy.
“Do not pity me,” he said, the words coming out more tersely than he had meant them to. “My past has made me into the man I am today. It’s what sent me to England, what drove me to succeed here. What I need from you is to do this job right, to allow me to achieve the retribution that I seek, for myself, for my family, and for all of Greece. Can you do that?”
She held his gaze for a moment until, finally, she nodded, and he hadn’t realized just how much he had been waiting to hear those words.
“I can.”
“Good. Now, leave me. I have work to do.”
Which was true, but it was more than that. He didn’t think he could stand being alone with her in the room for another moment, with her facing him with that combination of hatred and pity, two things that he abhorred.
“Very well. Farewell, then.”
He said nothing in return, but bent his head and returned to his work, determined to push Annabelle Kennedy far from his mind.
CHAPTER 5
Annabelle would never admit to anyone just how hard she’d worked on the piece for Arie.
It was a lot of pressure, knowing that the entirety of his plan rested on her creating the perfect piece that could be passed off as genuine. She had created fake pieces in the past for Juliet, as replicas of true gems, but never had she done something like this, fabricating something that was to appear hundreds of years old.
She sat back and stared at the piece in front of her now, trying to determine whether or not it was finished. She was never completely satisfied with a piece, but it was all about understanding when it was time to put it down and move on to the next.
She could admit that this, however, seemed as close to perfection as she’d likely ever get.
But perhaps it was too perfect. She sighed as she sat back in her chair, rubbing her eyes, seeing the darkness through the window when she took her hands away. What time was it?
“Annabelle?”
She turned to the doorway to find Juliet there, awaiting her.
“Yes?”
“We, ah, have a visitor.”
She stepped to the side as a dark shadow was cast over the floor in front of her, and Annabelle knew before he even stepped through the doorway who it was.
“Arie,” she said cautiously, as she moved her body to try to cover the piece in front of her. He had criticized a rough sketch the other day; what would he have to say about this piece, one that meant everything to him? Annabelle would have far preferred to have first gathered Juliet and Xander’s opinions as their criticism would have been much gentler than what Arie’s judgement was likely to be. “What can I help you with?”
“I hadn’t heard from you. I wanted to know if the piece was ready.”
“I told you that I would contact you when it was.”
She and Juliet exchanged a look, and Juliet stepped forward.
“Arie, Xander is here and can watch the shop. Why don’t you come to the house for tea and then we can—”
“Don’t pander to me, Juliet,” he said tersely. “If that’s what you want, then I’ll meet with you at the house. Bring what you have done, Annabelle.”
“But—”
“It doesn’t have to be finished. Just bring it.”
With that, he turned away, and Annabelle was tempted to pick up the piece and throw it at the back of his head.
She didn’t, of course, but he would have deserved it if she had. She set her mouth in a grim line as she lifted the necklace in her hand and joined Juliet in the doorway.
“I can tell him to leave if you’d like,” Juliet murmured, but Annabelle shook her head.
“No. Might as well get this over with as soon as we can,” she said with a sigh, lifting up the necklace. “What do you think?”
Juliet’s mouth dropped open as she took the necklace from Annabelle. “Oh, Annabelle,” she breathed. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Really?”
“It is breathtaking, and also looks as antiquated as could be,” Juliet said.
“I just hope Arie feels the same,” Annabelle said somewhat nervously.
“Annabelle, this might have been a bad idea,” Juliet began, wringing her hands together, but Annabelle held up a hand to stop her.
“It’s fine,” she said, forcing a smile for Juliet. “I can handle Arie.”
“Are you sure? Because—”
“Nothing to worry about,” Annabelle said as they left the shop, locking the back door behind them. Annabelle lived upstairs, while Xander and Juliet had bought a house down the street. “I can handle Arie,” repeated Annabelle.
