by Addison Fox
Where she expected difficulty getting past security, the process was anything but, and within moments the concierge was directing her to the elevator that ran to Finn’s apartment.
“This is a pleasant surprise.” Finn was waiting at the entrance to his apartment when she stepped off the elevator.
“Yes, well, we need to talk.”
The rush of the past hour and the more-than-fascinating view of him dressed in jeans and a gray T-shirt that showed off his upper body to perfection had nerves leaping in her belly like a swarm of bees.
She was a woman who liked being in control—in her life, in her job, in her family—so the fact that she felt so distinctly off-kilter was more than a little unnerving. Especially when the curl of desire in her belly was doing a damn fine job of pushing all those angry bees out of the way.
“Come on in.”
The heat of his body hit her like a brand when she brushed past him through the door and another lick of attraction hit her with all the power of an oncoming train.
Rowan fought to hang on to the tenuous threads of her anger as she walked into his large living room and stopped dead in her tracks. London spread out before her, the city’s lights winking brightly through the windows. She could see the London Eye and Big Ben and Parliament across the banks. Could see the various walking bridges that joined each bank of the Thames. And when she turned, the central business district shone like a jewel, each distinct landmark bright with lights.
“These views are amazing. I realize I’m standing here, but this is really where you live?” She turned away from the windows, curious to what she’d see on his face. Pride? Ennui? Maybe both?
“We’re both standing here, aren’t we?”
“Yes, but I mean you live here. Like, every day.”
He did laugh at that, his smile wide and his eyes full of the same wonder that tinged his words. “I’m still getting used to the views myself.”
“How you doing with that?”
“Would I ruin your opinion of me if I told you I’m in awe every time I look out the window? I’ve been here about ten months and I still haven’t stopped catching my breath at odd moments.”
The ready evidence he wasn’t wholly unaffected went a long way toward cooling her initial upset. “You say things like that and it’s hard to stay mad at you.”
“What did I do?”
“You don’t know?”
“No, I don’t.”
He moved up behind her and settled his hands on her shoulders. He flicked the pad of his thumb along the base of her neck and she could have sworn she was in immediate danger of going up in flames. “Can I take your coat?”
She shrugged out of the thin jacket, not fully trusting there wouldn’t be a quaver to her voice at the sensual play of his hands on her body. After he took her jacket, she turned on her heel, the windows beckoning her closer for a better look.
“What have I done, Rowan? I can’t imagine this is a social call, especially since we have a meeting at seven tomorrow.”
Her gaze alighted on Big Ben and she willed herself to take strength from it. The clock wasn’t simply a landmark. It had stood watch over London for a century and a half, its bells ringing with hourly constancy.
It was up to her to do the same.
Long ago, she’d reformed her life, and while she knew she dealt with many who lived in the shadows, she refused to out-and-out partner with someone who didn’t feel the same way. With that vow in mind, she turned from the windows to face Finn.
And the uncertain reality that she might not hear something positive.
“This couldn’t wait until tomorrow and it has nothing to do with Egypt.”
“What is it, then?”
“Where’s the Victoria bracelet?”
* * *
Finn exhaled on a heavy breath. He knew it was only a matter of time. Had thought as much when he’d replaced the bracelet in the safe earlier after his discussion with his father.
He simply hadn’t calculated on the question coming so soon.
“Why the sudden curiosity?”
“So you do have it.”
“Answer me first.”
“It was my brother’s idea, actually.”
Finn wasn’t sure how her brother got involved, so he gestured to the leather sectional that framed the living room. “Why don’t you sit down and start from the beginning and please explain why your brother has anything to do with this?”
When he remained standing after she’d taken a seat, that cute little frown that meant she was thinking about something flashed across her face. “Aren’t you going to sit down?”
“I’m going to get some wine first. For both of us, if that’s all right with you?”
“Of course.”
He kept a small bar stand on the one wall that wasn’t full of windows and he crossed to it now. “Why don’t you start telling me while I open the wine? I have to admit I’m curious.”
“Liam’s in town and he met me for dinner. He managed to get the story of our late-night escapade at the Warringtons’ out of me.”
Surprise had him fumbling the corkscrew as he worked on opening a bottle of Cabernet. “He didn’t know?”
“No one knew besides my grandfather. And, well, I’ve always suspected my grandmother knows as well because they don’t keep secrets from each other, but that’s it. The only other person who knew about my problem was my therapist, and even she didn’t know about the objects I stole.”
“Your grandfather didn’t make you return what you stole?”
“Anonymously, yes.”
The cork slid free and Finn set it next to the bottle as he reached for glasses. “How many did you pull before that night?”
“Big jobs?”
He turned around and couldn’t hold back the smile. “Are there any other kind?”
“Fourteen.”
The long, low whistle escaped his lips before he thought to hold it back. “Impressive.”
“And stupid.”
“I thought we already agreed to that.” He poured the rich red into their glasses, then crossed back to the couch and handed her one. “To misguided choices.”
“And mastering them.” She took a sip, then set the wine down on his coffee table. “Delicious.”
Like you. The words rose up so quickly his hand trembled as he lifted his own glass to his lips.
What was it about this small slip of a woman? She twisted him up in knots, and no matter how hard he fought to remain unaffected, every moment in her presence was like a drug.
“Now. Enough small talk. Where’s the bracelet?”
“In my safe.”
“What?” The word exploded from her lips as she leaped off the couch. “You cannot be serious.”
“I’m absolutely serious.”
“That’s a priceless bracelet.”
“And owned by the Royal Family.”
A heavy sigh escaped her lips, the heft of his words sinking in. “It can’t be.”
“It’s true. Lord Warrington bought it on the black market.”
The words had their desired effect and she fell back onto the couch with a light thud. “He stole it?”
“Or had someone steal it for him. Either way, the provenance on that bracelet wasn’t his.”
“Well, it sure as hell isn’t yours, either.”
The lush wine turned sour on his tongue and he set his glass next to hers on the coffee table. “What did you want me to do with it?”
“Turn it in. Report it. Hell, send it off anonymously. You should have done what you needed to do to get it back to its rightful owner.”
“And how would I have done that and not tipped those thugs off to who I was?”
“I d
on’t know but you find a way.”
An irrational shot of anger speared through him. “That’s rich, Rowan, seeing as how you were the one who actually removed the piece from the Warringtons’ safe.”
She was back up off the couch, but instead of standing still, she skirted the coffee table to pace the room. The lights of the city glowed behind her and he couldn’t hold back the deep-seated need that beat in his veins.
She was in his home. Here, among all he’d worked for.
“This isn’t about me.”
“Convenient time to get amnesia.”
“I’m not the one who’s held on to a priceless piece of jewelry for the last twelve years.”
He couldn’t sit still any longer, seated under her accusatory glare. With one solid motion, he was up and on his feet, ready to argue it out. “And where, exactly, was I going to send it? Last time I checked Buckingham Palace doesn’t exactly accept unsolicited packages.”
“A museum. A university. Hell, find some lawyers who handle royal business. Whatever, but you get it the hell back where it belongs.”
“And what about that small little fact that I had a price on my head and was attempting to lie low? How was I supposed to handle that?”
“It’s been twelve years, Finn. That’s a long time for people to forget.”
“And it’s a short time in the world of poor choices.”
She stopped her pacing and stood to face him, her blue gaze unwavering on his. “Is that the only reason?”
Somewhere in his soul, Finn recognized the moment for what it was.
Defining.
And he had to choose which way he was going to go with his answer.
The urge of the thief to never admit guilt rose up in his mind, but he tamped it down, his lover’s heart hoping like hell she didn’t walk away.
“No. It’s not the only reason.”
“Then why? Why do you still have it?”
“I kept it because of you.”
* * *
The light from his desk lamp lit the corner of his home office in a strange glow as Will clicked his mouse through several screens, hunting for more information on the Nefertari tomb. The thread he’d followed after asking a few questions had seemed like a solid lead, but several hours later he couldn’t find any further information.
“Bugger this.”
“Doesn’t sound very promising.” Debbie stood in the doorway, her shoulder resting against the frame.
“Hey, babe.” He couldn’t hold back the smile when she came around his desk and he lifted his face for a kiss.
“Hey, yourself.”
“I’m sorry. It’s late.” His gaze traveled to the clock on his computer screen and he winced. “I’ve been in here awhile.”
“Yep.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sadly, you’re not. Or you aren’t way deep down inside. You’re lucky I love you anyway.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. “I’m so lucky.”
Her lips opened under his and Will took the moment to savor his wife. He ran his hands over the hem of her nightgown before settling a hand on the soft skin of her inner thigh.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” The tease was offered with a smile, but her hands were firm on his as she stopped his fingers from traveling farther. “If we do this in here, you’ll be back to your computer when the fun’s over.”
“You wound me, woman.”
“And I want a bed.” She hopped off his lap and moved around the desk. “That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”
He couldn’t hold back the smile. “Good thing I’m a smart man. Let me shut down out of here and I’ll be upstairs in five minutes.”
“Promise?”
He didn’t miss the skepticism in her beautiful gray eyes or the small shot of embarrassment that his past behavior had put the doubt there.
Vowing tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights, he crossed his chest with his fingers. “Hope to die.”
“See you soon.”
He gave himself the sheer joy of watching her lush backside sway as she disappeared from view, then hopped back to the message board he was hunting through. He’d post one more question, then head up to join her.
Until, of course, the words Nefertari Tomb Curse caught his attention.
Chapter 10
“You kept a priceless bracelet that belonged to one of England’s most beloved monarchs because of me?” A series of tremors began coursing through her body as a wave of cold washed over her and Rowan wondered how she could feel so immediately bereft of her illusions about the man standing before her. “You can’t be serious.”
“That night changed my life.”
“It changed mine, too. It doesn’t mean you needed to hang on to the Victoria bracelet.”
“You would have.”
“No.” She shook her head at the quiet accusation, her mind automatically racing back to those dark, reckless days. “No.”
No?
If it hadn’t been for her grandfather’s insistence, she’d still possess the other pieces. Would she have kept the bracelet? And would she have changed her life in the ensuing years if that evening hadn’t borne such harsh consequences?
Rowan wanted to believe she’d have made the required changes. Wanted to believe she’d see her way to healing from the brokenness inside of her.
She had to believe that.
“That night changed my life, too, Finn. Because I chose to change it. Thinking you died—hell, almost dying myself—went a long way toward ensuring I saw the light, but it was more than that. I chose to be different.”
“I chose to be different, too.”
“Did you? Can you honestly say you gave up your old ways? Because a man who feels no remorse for stealing is always able to steal again.”
She knew it was unfair to throw his words back at him from earlier that day—and also knew she was the last person who deserved to sit in judgment of him—but she couldn’t stop the horrible sense of disappointment that filled her.
Without warning, an image of Liam at dinner—his blue eyes awash in sadness over the story of her youthful choices—filled her mind’s eye. Was this what Grandfather had felt like? Was this the staggering sense of disappointment that filled a person at the evidence of a betrayal?
She had no right to judge Finn Gallagher. None.
Yet so help her if she could hold back the torrent of words that seemed insistent on falling from her lips. “Can you stand there before me and tell me you’ve stolen nothing since that night?”
“Rowan—”
“No! I want an answer. I want the truth, Finn. Not some version of it you feel answers just enough of my questions to keep me dancing on the end of your leash.”
“I haven’t done that.”
“Like hell you haven’t.”
His hands clenched and unclenched as he stared at her across the expanse of his living room, his large body set in hard lines. “What do you want me to tell you?”
“Everything.”
“I can’t do that.”
His words stung like icy needles but they were the cold truth she needed to hear. “Then we have nothing else to say. I’ll just gather my things. I’m afraid I need to withdraw from this project. I’ll talk to my sister and see that you’re reimbursed for your expenses so far.”
“You don’t need to leave. And you don’t need to leave the project.”
“Yes, I do.”
He never moved from his place in the middle of the room, but she still felt his pain, radiating off him in hard, choppy waves. The lights of one of the world’s greatest cities spread out behind him, yet all she saw was a lonely man, bereft of anything real.
She gathered her coat from the chair by the door and had her hand on the knob when he finally spoke. “I’ll tell you everything.”
The brass of the doorknob was cool to her touch, but she stopped and turned, oddly desperate to give him one more chance. “More promises of a thief?”
“No. The words of a man who has nothing left to lose.”
“Tell me.”
* * *
Finn had spent his life hearing the colloquialism that your past always catches up to you. On some level, he was glad to stop running.
And on the other hand, he’d never been so scared in his life. Not the night he snuck into an office building on his first big job and nicked a set of blueprints for a jewelry heist. Not the afternoon he signed his first deal for Gallagher International. And not the night he attempted to stanch the blood flow from a gunshot to his flesh as fear coursed through his veins that a young girl had possibly been captured by some of London’s most depraved thieves.
“I told you how I got into the business.”
“Yes.” She’d crossed back to the couch and taken a seat, but she still held her coat in her hands, as if waiting for the opportune moment to run.
“Well, going straight doesn’t mean everyone you did crooked business with wants you out of the game.”
“And?”
“And I’ve kept up some side jobs along the way. Fewer and fewer as the years have gone by, but I still do the occasional job.”
Where he expected some verdict in her gaze—or even some clue to what she was thinking—he saw nothing. Instead, she just sat there, quietly waiting for him to continue.
“It’s no big deal. Or at least I keep telling myself it’s no big deal, but it is.”
He felt the words in a way he never had before. And in that moment he felt naked under Rowan Steele’s steady gaze.
Through the years he’d felt very little remorse for his choices, but staring at the proof that you could make something more of your life, Finn knew a sense of shame.