Page 7 of Steal Me

"My people found this in your bedroom."

A nod, and one of the men flanking his side reveals one of the watches I've stolen.

Oh well.

Since there is no point playing innocent now—

"I planned to give it back," I say piously, going for broke.

A lazy smile slowly curves over his lips, and my heart actually races.

Oh dear.

"And I'm supposed to believe that, of course."

"Why shouldn't you? Is it too difficult to believe that I've had a change of heart? It's my first time to steal—"

His security team—every one of them actually coughs—but I pretend not to hear this.

Quelle impolitesse. Such rudeness.

"And I'm clearly not good at it."

"Clearly." He nods again, and another one of his guards steps forward, this time revealing the rest of my takings.

Unfortunately for him, I am really good at pretending not to notice what I do not wish to see.

"Please,monsieur.I just want to live a normal life from now on. I just want to...start fresh."

His eyes gleam, and its shade is truly just like mine that I'm starting to worry. What if...this man turns out to be some brother from another father that I never knew of? Stepbrother romances, I have no beef with, but real incest? Hard pass, for sure.

"Funny you should say that," he murmurs, "since it's exactly what I've decided to offer you."

He rises to his feet, unfolding like a dark promise, and he's so much taller than I feared.

"But first..." Blue eyes that are so like mine turn speculative. "You know who I am,oui?"

I don't say a word, but my silence proves futile.

"Your face is an open book,ma petite," he says gently. "So now, let me ask you again, and this time,donne-moi une réponse, s'il te plaît."

I taste fear for the first time.

Because like everyone else, I've heard all the stories about him.

And one thing they have in common?

It isnevera good sign whenMonsieur Le Derniersays'please'.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes." I don't even know why I refused to admit this in the first place. Subconscious self-sabotage, perhaps? You can't live a life of crime in Paris and not know ofMonsieur Le Dernier. You rarely ever see him, but you know he's everywhere. You don't ever hear his real name mentioned. But you know he's real because of the dead bodies that keep turning up. And the one thing they all have in common?

They thought they couldhandlehim.

They were wrong.

Like me.

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