Page 122 of Undercover Billionaire

“Adam is going to work on getting the door fixed today,” I told her.

“It’s not that. Some of the jewels were stolen last night, and the exhibit’s being canceled.” She talked almost too fast for me to understand. “I have to fly out today and escort what’s left back to LA.”

“Your Hollywood exhibit?”

Adam looked up at the note of alarm in my voice.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. This morning they’re just missing from the receiving cage. The owners are blaming the Institute, and my boss is blaming me.”

Things were bad when Yolanda referred to the Smithsonian as theInstitute, even if that was the official name.

“How long?” I asked.

“No idea. How long does keel-hauling take? Or fingernail pulling? That isifI come back alive.”

She hung up after agreeing to keep in touch.

Adam forked the last piece of his burrito. “What’s up?”

“Yolanda has to leave town. She said some of her exhibit was stolen from the museum last night.”

“Could that…”

“What?”

“Never mind.” He stood and took his plate to the sink. “Let’s go.”

The time on my phone agreed with him. I was already late. I scarfed down another forkful and joined him at the sink with my plate.

I loaded my phone, some spare cash, and mascara—always my mascara—into the tiny Coach purse I’d brought, which was about all that would fit. Hopefully the leather guy could fix my black beauty quickly.

Adam opened the door to a different car than last night, but just as ugly.

“What’s this?”

“Replacement Bureau car.”

“Can’t we take your real car?”

“Sorry if this isn’t up to your standards. Half the country would be happy to have this car, and I need it for work today.”

I slid into the stained seat.. The number of people who’d want this piece of junk was more like half a small town than half the country. It smelled just as bad as last night’s leaky bucket, but at least it had a real roof and the seat wasn’t wet.

He drove aggressively on the way.

As I watched the blocks fly by, my thoughts returned to last night.

Why hadn’t I ever had a guy like Adam before?

The simple answer was, I hadn’t looked for one, and the ones that found me were all intimidated by my family. In California, they’d all met one or more of my brothers, or my father, or all of the above. The threat that they’d better not upset me had always been clear.

Only Adam had been self-confident enough to push me beyond my comfort zone. I called it risky—he called it living. He was right. For the longest time, I’d thought my vibrator was a good-enough stand-in for a man. But Adam had proven me wrong—oh, so wrong.

We passed a phone store.

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