Page 18 of The Eagle's Vault

The assurance, the words hanging in the tiny space between us, was surprisingly comforting. I managed a nod, snaking my arm through his offered elbow.

Arm in arm, we left the safety of the café and headed toward our target.Don’t let him feel you falter in the damn shoes.The cobblestone street gave way to a wide paved sidewalk leading underneath thick trees and past a small park.

Cassaforte sat beside the Tiber River, three stories of yellow stucco with green shutters that looked more like a large residence than a safe deposit box company. From the clothes hanging on lines along the side of the building, it was a mix of uses.

Declan pulled open the heavy glass door, its imposing entrance opening to a world of luxury, gleaming steel, and calculated professional indifference. I slipped my arm through his again, holding my breath as we stepped across the threshold.

A representative—name tag proclaiming he was Ignazio—greeted us with a warm yet practiced smile. His gaze traveled from me to Declan and back, a silent judgment of our characters, a calculation of our worthiness to enter this citadel of wealth. The expensive suit and bag Scarlett had loaned me transformed into an all-access pass.

“Frederick and Georgia Stirling.” In character, Declan felt taller, more commanding than the laid-back guy who’d messed with my safe. “We have an appointment for a new safe deposit box?”

Ignazio’s smile grew and he spoke with a thin Italian accent. “Of course. If you’ll follow me?”

He led us to the interview room with the Raphael painting I’d admired during Edoardo’s tour. Declan answered a series of questions about the Stirling family, reviewed aspects of the safe deposit boxes, and finally settled on the medium size with the additional livestream option.

Ignazio slid a digital tablet across the table, which Declan picked up and filled out. Was Frederick Stirling a standard cover for him? When he pulled a credit card out of a black leather card holder as though it actually belonged to him, that sealed the deal. Fake name, fake card, fake identity.

Declan Ramsay, and likely the entire Reynolds Recoveries team, were more than they said they were. Had I gotten myself roped into an actual theft?

While Ignazio took care of the payment, Scarlett’s cool voice came through my earpiece. “Leigh, he’ll ask you to sign the contract. Remember, your name is Georgia Stirling, and the signature won’t matter.”

Declan handed the tablet and stylus to me, pointing to the X where I had to sign. I skimmed the legal jargon before adding my digital signature and passed the device back to Ignazio.

We were in. It was that simple. We were officially clients of Cassaforte Caetani. At least, Frederick and Georgia were.

Ignazio handed Declan a brochure, then stood and led us deeper into the fortress, toward the vault. The door, the sentinel of metal and security, was as breathtaking as it had been two days ago.

What am I even doing here?A woman who wore baggy jeans and backpacks, who always had her nose in a book—how did I belong in this high-end world as anything but a technician? I was designed to service jaw-droppingly expensive safe deposit boxes in a beautiful Italian city. I wasn’t someone who’d rent one, let alone who’d prod at the edges of their security.

I gripped my small handbag, the smooth leather a reminder of who I was. I wasn’t just vault-designer-Leigh. I was Georgia—a woman who belonged wherever she damn well pleased.

Declan slid his arm around my back. Maybe he’d noticed my hesitation, maybe not, but the sudden presence of him, so close and warm, grounded me.

The vault door was closed, a guard standing next to it. The same guard as Saturday. Was he the inside man Edoardo promised? As Ignazio neared the facial scanner, I tore the phone out of my bag to capture his steps. This would be interesting to the team, right?

“Got it,” said one of the women over my earpiece, probably Brie. “Let me unlock the phone. It will show an inbox with some lorem ipsum text, so pretend you’re scrolling through emails. I’ll pull up the program while I record.”

“Something interesting, darling?” Declan leaned closer, peering at my screen. “Any news from the party planners?”

“Party—” I cut off my question based on a throat being cleared.Go with the flow, Leigh. Georgia. Give a reason to keep the phone up until the door is open.“Yes, but I want to read through the details.”

“Good job,” said Brie. “Dec, we need your phone attached to the door so Will can scan it.”

“Sounds good.” Declan’s response could have been for both of us.

“I warn you,” said Ignazio as he turned the handle, glancing at my bare legs, “it’s cool inside. The inspection rooms are more comfortable, if you’d like to wait in there?”

“I’ll stay.” When the gush of air hit me, I squealed quietly, moving my arms and the phone around. Hopefully, I was successful in capturing the single camera trained directly on the vault door, rather than just a blur of movement.

Declan used his arm at my waist to urge me forward, into the chilly vault.

“I should have worn pants,” I said.

“We’ll be quick.” Declan leaned closer, his cologne washing over me. He smelled amazing, like oranges and exotic spices. “Plus, your legs look fantastic in that skirt.”

My stomach flip-flopped at the compliment.

It was an act. A job.Nothing more, Leigh, remember that.

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