Page 17 of The Devil in the Details

“I thought she went back to Earth.”

“Poor thing. I heard she’s working in a pawn shop, of all places.”

Zelda’s jaw clenched as she struggled to hold her tongue. Geneva’s shop wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest. Well, honest-ish. Fine, fine, the shop was shady, but Geneva wouldnever whisper about someone behind their back. She’d give them a piece of her mind right to their face.

Mal’s fingers dug into her back before relaxing. “Ignore them,” he murmured.

“They’re not wrong. I shouldn’t be here,” she said, taking another sip of wine.

“They are jealous,” he said. Before she could protest and claim that no one in this rich person’s soiree was jealous of her, he said, “You are interesting and unexpected. Notorious. People can’t resist discussing you. What is interesting about them? Nothing. The number of credits they have in the bank, that’s all they have to discuss.”

“Being notorious is not all it’s cracked up to be,” she said, faintly amused.

Mal paused by the fireplace and the painting, allowing her to take a closer look without being obvious.

“What do you think? Would you like it? I’ll steal it for you. Just say the word,” he said.

Zelda gave him some side eye, not convinced that he was joking. Reminding him that they were there to stop the painting from being stolen, not to steal it for themselves, seemed like the sort of thing she shouldn’t have to say. Still, better safe than sorry.

“It’s a gorgeous painting,” she said. “Too bad it’s fake.”

CHAPTER 5

ZELDA

“A fake, you say?” Mal stroked his chin. Zelda could see the wheels turning in his head. “How can you tell?”

“Well, the best way would be radiocarbon dating the paint and the canvas, but we can’t do that right now,” she said. A savvy forger would use a canvas from the right period. Often, unwanted paintings were stripped from the canvas or simply painted over. Paint dried out and wouldn’t have survived the centuries. “The forger might be using age-appropriate pigments, but the linseed oil would be modern. The second best tell would be the back. The real thing would have stamps from every gallery and auction it’s been at. If it’s too clean, it’s a fake.”

Zelda’s fingers itched to lift the frame from the wall and inspect the back of the painting. A nearby guard gave her the stink eye.

“Right now, I’m going with the fact that there’s the wrong number of poppies in the painting. The real one has two red blossoms and one bud. This has three full blossoms,” she said.

“Are you certain?”

Zelda rolled her eyes. “About one of the most infamous stolen works of art? About a painting rumored to be on Mars and one I researched before the party? Yes, I’m certain. This is my wheelhouse. Honestly, I don’t question your deal-with-the-devilry.”

“That is false. You have questioned me at every step,” Mal said, amusement in his voice.

Zelda turned to Mal. “Is Amiron the kind of person who’d be upset if he were cheated, or is this a prank he’s playing on us?”

Mal considered the painting before answering. “He is vain and craves constant attention. This may be a ploy. The painting’s existence was a badly kept secret.”

“So, he knows it’s fake, and his humble brag drew the wrong sort of attention,” she said, nodding her head. “He deserves to be robbed.”

Mal laughed and it was bone chilling, like a leak in the dome that let in dust and radiation. All the hair on the back of her neck stood at attention because something very bad was coming.

“You have a petty heart, Zelda Kniffen. I approve,” he said.

Night had fallen. Below, the lights of the city glimmered. Above, the two moons huddled together in the sky. Soon the larger, Phobos, would pull away, leaving Deimos alone.

None of that held her attention.

Zelda stared at her reflection. She didn’t recognize herself. It was more than the dress and how her shoulder-length hair flipped up in curls. It was also more than the striking man standing next to her or the way his eyes smoldered when he looked at her. Literally smoldered.

She was happy.

Malgraxon needled and teased her, treating their entire arrangement like a private joke, but she liked the feeling of being in on the joke. Could she be this person all the time, or was this a one-time deal?

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