Page 32 of The San Marco Heist

I bounded to the shelf under the table and grabbed several tissues. This hadn’t been part of the plan. At least, not a part I was aware of. Before I could dab at her suit, she swiped the tissues away and did the job herself. As much fun as toying with her had been, wiping coffee from her lap might have landed me a black eye.

Bruce stood and rounded the table to us. “Let me take you to the toilets where you can clean up.”

She shook her head, slowing in her process of cleaning the formerly stunning outfit. “Just point me the right way and you can show Lucius some more of those photos.”

“Of course.” He led her to the door and opened it, providing directions.

Scarlett had just left with both of the drives in her purse. What was I supposed to do now? As she made her way down the hallway and Bruce returned to my side, Scarlett’s voice sounded in my ear. “I’m not getting a device near his laptop. I need another option.”

I remained standing, staring after the spot where she’d disappeared. I’d just switched from the arm candy to the distraction.

Brie said, “You’ve only got ten minutes left in your meeting. It’s not enough time for me to hack into a locked machineandfind what I need in their network.”

“So I need to find one that’s unlocked, right?”

Bruce sat in front of his laptop. “Did you wish to continue?”

Not only was I arm candy and a distraction, I didn’t even warrant a ‘Sorry, Malcolm, change of plans. I’ll be right back.’

“Everything’s locked or occupied,” whispered Scarlett. “I’ll have to get someone away from their machine.”

“Ask him about security.” This voice was a male one, without Will’s faint London accent or Rav’s obvious French one, so it must have been Declan, the safecracker.

“What about your coffee?” asked Will. “Can you spill it on him so he leaves you with the laptop?”

“No,” said Declan. “Just ask about security.”

“Use the coffee!”

There were too many voices in my head—Scarlett’s conversation with Brie, Declan asking questions, Will providing guidance.

I flipped open the button of my jacket and made my way to Bruce’s side of the table, discreetly turning off the earpiece in my ear. I settled on the table with a hip next to his hand. Flirtatious, but it could still have been perceived as me trying to get a better look at his computer, rather than using the television. “I think we’re lucky she had to leave. I wanted to discuss security concerns with you.”

Bruce looked up at me, his pupils dilating. Yes, the close proximity was working.

“I have certain... possessions which I need to keep safe. Does your firm have experience in integrating security measures into a house like this?”

He nodded, not taking his eyes off me. Maybe I was too distracting. If he was staring at me, he wouldn’t show me anything on the laptop. “As a matter of fact, the owner of this stunning house requested a safe room for ultimate security.”

I leaned closer to Bruce, shifting to look at his laptop monitor. “Where? The house is literally covered in windows. Surely, it’s not hidden in the house’s core?”

He shook his head. “It presented a challenge, but I’m quite pleased with the end result.”

“Basement!” I snapped my fingers and rounded on him, attempting to drag him along in my excitement, to a point he’d confess something he shouldn’t. “Tell me you dug out a level below the house and put it in there?”

“No.” Bruce waggled his eyebrows. “He wanted it close to what mattered most to him.”

Shaking the finger I’d been pointing at him, I said, “It’s got to be the bedroom.”

His professional demeanor all but vanished, and his gaze roamed over my shoulders.

I folded my arms, emphasizing the breadth of my chest, as that appeared to be what he was interested in. “I mean, that’s wheremymost important things are.”

At the moment Bruce’s mouth opened—about to spill the beans, for sure—Scarlett burst into the room with a rather pissed-off looking receptionist.

I shot off the conference table, making it appear as though I’d been doing something I shouldn’t with Bruce. “Everything alright, sugar lips?”

The receptionist braced herself against the door, holding it open with her back. “I really am sorry, Mrs. Stone.”

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