Page 63 of The San Marco Heist

“We’re on the second floor,” whispered Jayce over the comms. “Proceeding to the bookcase.”

Was there any way Maguire could help us? We didn’t need to generate any level of chaos to throw off a suspicious guest, and unless he knew where the ring was, there was no value in talking to him. Although if he knew the homeowners, he might introduce me, and I could kick up a conversation and prod for details if Jayce and Declan couldn’t find the safe room.

I gave my toes one last curl and produced a lazy smile for Maguire. “A dance sounds like fun.”

He placed the glasses on the table next to us and leered at me, a far-too-obvious scan of my breasts, waist, and hips. No doubt he was wishing I’d worn the low-necked gown from last weekend, rather than tonight’s halter. Except the back was so low, there’d be no avoiding his slimy hands on my skin. “Excellent.”

You got this, Scar.

He gestured to the dance floor with one hand, the other circling my waist to herd me forward. No touching. Not yet.

“I’m not a very good dancer.” Was I being clear enough for the team to know what I was doing? “What was your name again?”

Thomas stopped between couples—all of whom were excellent dancers—and took my right hand, while his slid to my back.

How was I going to get out of this elegantly? One dance and say I needed to hit the powder room, probably.

He drew closer—too close—and whispered, “You can call me Daddy.”

“Ew,” whispered Brie over my comms.

Thanks for coming off mute for that insight, Brie. I smiled, responding with the most vapid thing I could think of. “But you’re not old enough to be my dad.”

The leering continued as the dance began, the waltz giving way to a game of cat and mouse. With each step he took forward, I had to take a larger one back than I should have, preventing him from getting closer. His hand crept lower, one vertebra at a time.

We glided across the dance floor with the other couples, a dizzying array of tuxes and gowns in every shade of jewel. Rubies and sapphires and emeralds and everything in between.

At least he was a good dancer.

I closed my eyes for a moment, muscle memory taking over, inhaling his delicious cologne and pretending the pineapples were vanilla.

Get a grip, Scar.

I needed to get Malcolm out of my system. Either by freeing my brother and saying sayonara for good or finding a secluded spot with a locked door. But then I’d have to turn off my comms and that was a no-no, so I’d have to continue suffering. And everyone was listening, so I had to suffer in silence.

When this is over, Scar. Be patient.

Scrunch the toes, recite Mum’s lessons, and maintain the professional exterior. And keep on dancing with slobbery-mouth Ma—

He stopped short, and I slammed into him, my eyes flying wide to see the man himself standing here, as though I’d conjured him out of a dream.

“Malcolm.” Thomas glowered at him as if he were little more than an irritating fly.

“Mr. Maguire, fancy seeing you here.” Malcolm eyed me, the same slow look Thomas had given me, but this one caused my heart to skip. “Do you mind if I cut in?”

Thomas didn’t loosen his grip on me. As far as he knew, I was married to some other man who wasn’t in attendance, and I was his if he wanted. “I think I’d rather keep dancing with her, if you don’t mind.”

“Can’t say I blame you.” Malcolm placed a hand on Thomas’s shoulder when he tried to restart the dance. “But I need to leave soon, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t have a single dance with the most stunning creature here. After that, she’s all yours.”

Bimbo. Bimbo. Remember your role, Scar.I giggled and extricated my hand from Thomas’s near-vice like grip. “Just one dance.”

“I warn you…” Thomas leaned forward to Malcolm. “She’s married.”

Malcolm held out his hand, and I accepted it gratefully. “Just my type.”

What did that mean? Or was that part of the role? Becausewewere supposed to be married? In all the fantasizing and attempting not to flirt with Malcolm, I hadn’t thought to ask if he was single. He could have been genuinely married for all I knew.

Thomas’s fingers skimmed across my back before I was out of reach. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

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