Dark Deception (Vampire Royals of New York #1) - Sarah Piper Page 0,58
himself in a mostly civilized manner, perhaps the Armitage mages would feel more at ease about their relationship, softening them for both the acquisition as well as the Redthornes’ eventual offer for Isabelle. And of course, the museum would be able to do some great work with the proceeds.
As much as Dorian hated to admit it, he was glad Aiden had suggested hosting the event. Despite his anxieties and general aversion to putting his private life on public display, Dorian couldn’t imagine the evening being a more smashing success.
But then the greeters ushered in a late arrival, and Dorian’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest. All around him, dozens of dark, depraved gazes slid to the entryway, every one of his guests as captivated as Dorian himself.
There, standing in the foyer, dressed in a black satin dress that exposed her delicious curves and elegant gloves that reached her elbows, was one very devious, sexy-as-sin, copper-eyed woman.
His woman.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Charley gave herself thirty seconds to cut the pity party and get her head in the game.
Never mind Dorian’s sexy voice, or the fact that she’d missed out on it last night, too nervous about the impending job to answer his calls or texts.
Never mind Travis’ filthy hands, how she’d fought him off the entire drive up from the city.
Never mind that she’d hardly gotten any sleep, jolting out of bed at every creak and groan, convinced Travis had found a way into her adjacent hotel room.
Never mind that she’d lied to Sasha, telling her that Rudy was sending her on an overnighter for an important conference.
Charley took a steadying breath, willing herself to forget it all. None of it mattered. Tonight, right now, standing in this gorgeous Elizabethan mansion in the shadow of the Catskill Mountains, Charley had one job.
Get in. Get the intel. Get out.
And above all, don’t get noticed.
After checking to confirm no one had followed her up the ornate hardwood staircase, Charley slipped into one of the mansion’s dozen bedrooms and shut the door behind her, confirming what her quick observations of the first floor had already implied.
This guy is fucking loaded.
She hadn’t even done a thorough sweep yet, but she’d already determined it to be exactly the kind of exclusive, eclectic cache Rudy had predicted: paintings from the Italian Renaissance, Russian avant-garde, and contemporary works the owner had likely commissioned directly from the artists; exquisite New Kingdom jars and statues made of Egyptian alabaster and faience; silk scrolls and wall panels from thirteenth-century Japan. The entire home was a museum in and of itself—and that wasn’t even counting the classic cars Travis had mentioned. Charley knew a lot more about fine art and architecture than she did about automobiles, but by the way he’d gone on about them, those beauties had to be worth millions.
Millions that someone else worked for. Someone we’re going to hurt…
Shaking off the ever-present guilt, she sent Rudy a coded text to hint at her initial findings, hoping it was enough to keep his incessant check-ins at bay. Having a lovely evening, she wrote. Even better than expected. I think a family trip to the region sounds like a great idea! The more, the merrier. LOTS to do here.
With heavy tapestries drawn over the windows, the bedroom was too dark to explore unaided. Charley flipped on the phone flashlight, quickly scanning her surroundings. It wasn’t the master suite, but even this secondary bedroom was flush with paintings and beautiful antique furniture.
She made her way to a large, walk-in closet full of women’s clothing and shoes, everything protected by clear plastic garment bags.
Interesting.
Rudy’s surveillance had indicated the homeowner lived alone—not with a woman. Then again, with everything bagged up and put away, it was likely the woman who’d once occupied this room hadn’t been here in a while.
A low shelf along one wall held an assortment of jewelry boxes, and inside the largest, Charley found a piece that took her breath away.
With gloved hands, she fingered the ruby-and-diamond bracelet, admiring the way the gemstones sparkled in the flashlight beam.
It’d been more than a decade since she’d earned a place on her father’s crew with that minor jewel heist in Sleepy Hollow. But for a fleeting moment, warmth spread in her belly, a familiar rush that made her feel both excited and dirty.
Excited, because she’d never forget the look of pride on her father’s face when she’d shown him her score.
And dirty, because rifling through personal heirlooms and possessions was one of the most despicable