Kat knew there was a trick—there had to be. Maybe the bank backed up to the store and the vault could be accessed via the basement. Maybe Maggie’s stylist worked there and it would be possible for Gabrielle to impersonate her, switch the stones, and then escape in a trunk filled with couture.
Kat’s mind was reeling in a way that young girls’ minds almost never reel when inside elite boutiques on the coast of the Riviera. She was so busy, in fact, that she almost didn’t see the salesgirl who was approaching Hale, smiling.
“I’m sorry,” Kat told the girl. “We’re not really shopping for—”
“Welcome back, Mr. Hale,” the girl gushed, and kissed Hale on each cheek as if Kat hadn’t spoken at all. “I believe we have…” She trailed off, glancing at an equally tall, equally tan, equally gorgeous girl who was carrying a least a dozen bags from the back room.
“Yes, we have some beautiful things for you, Hale,” the second girl said, handing him the bags, her hand lingering a little longer than necessary on his.
“You always do, Isabella. My love to Renée, okay?”
“Bonjour,” Isabella said.
“Bonjour,” Hale said back. They were halfway to the door when he finally looked at Kat. “Now we’re ready.”
Kat tested the weight and feel of the garment bag he’d handed her. “I don’t suppose there’s a heat-resistant black cat-suit in here with built-in harness attachments?”
“Nope.”
“Then I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what is in here?”
Hale’s smile was his only answer.
“I don’t really have a big need for fancy dresses,” Kat tried again.
“Tonight you do.”
“Why? What’s tonight? Where are we going?”
He stopped and slipped on his dark glasses. “My world.”
CHAPTER 26
Although the seasickness should, technically, have been waning, Kat felt more nauseous than usual when they finally made it back onboard the W. W. Hale. She tried to blame it on the changing weather, the shifting tides. She tried to tell herself that it was just a scouting trip—nothing more—but every time she caught sight of the garment bag lying on the end of the king-size bed, the feeling in her gut grew stronger, saying something was very, very wrong.
“Hey, Kitty,” Gabrielle called, sidling into the room. “Angus and Hamish say the roads around the bank are a nightmare, so if we hit it there we’re going to need a chopper or a…” She stopped suddenly and lunged for the garment bag. “Oh! I love this store!” she exclaimed, knocking a lamp off the bedside table and spilling a glass of juice before finally managing to rip open the bag.
“Oh,” Gabrielle said, staring down. “It’s your size.” Curse or not, she still looked to Kat like a goddess as she held the gown against her body and studied her reflection in one of the stateroom’s floor-length mirrors.
“Gabrielle.” Kat’s voice sounded small and timid. She barely recognized the sound, but given that they were the only two people in the room, she knew she must have been the one who’d spoken. She also knew that it was far too late to go back.
“Gabrielle,” Kat said, stronger this time. She pulled the dress from her cousin’s hands.
“What’s wrong with you?” Gabrielle asked.
Kat wanted to talk about curses and emeralds and pride. Part of her wanted to scream about old cons and new cons and the perverse, twisted irony that comes with finally being the mark. But all that came out was “I kissed Hale.”
“You did what? When? How?”
“I kissed Hale. After the heist. The usual way…I guess.” She watched her cousin pick up the dress again and turn back to the mirror. Wordless. “Gabrielle?” The impatience was rising in Kat’s voice. “Gabrielle, would you please put the dress down and—”
“I’m impressed, Kitty,” Gabrielle said. “I was beginning to think you’d never take that plunge. So, how was it?”
“He left,” Kat said, the memory rushing back. “I kissed him and he went to Uruguay.”
“Paraguay,” Gabrielle corrected. “And technically he never made it out of the country.”
“He left,” Kat said again, settling on the only thing that mattered.