by Raven Scott
“Once you go through all the items again, I’m sure there are other things you’ll want,” she assured him with a soft smile.
“So what do you think? Is this something you and your people can manage?” he finally asked.
“I would be happy to, Mr. DaCosta. From what you described, your father certainly has an impressive collection, and it would do well at auction or on consignment. We’ve done lots of work in the D.C. area, so I think we have options,” she replied.
“Good, then it looks like I’ve found myself a solution.”
“Excellent.”
She stood, slipping her jacket back on as though the meeting was over.
“Grab your drink, let’s go enjoy the evening view outside and toast our agreement,” Evan added, standing also.
He strode to the terrace doors and stepped through, holding it open for her. Nia was a few steps behind, indicating she had hesitated to follow. But she was there, with her face void of expression. He walked beside her to the rails, the evening breeze whipping around them.
“Here’s to a lucrative business relationship,” Evan declared, raising his wineglass.
“Cheers,” she replied, tapping her glass to the rim of his.
They both took a drink, and their eyes met. Hers were filled with an unexpected mix of nervousness and speculation. Then her gaze dropped to his lips, and Evan felt a deep pull at the base of his stomach. She lowered her glass and licked the corner of her mouth. His eyes were instantly drawn to the spot, with a need to trail his tongue across the path hers had taken.
Their eyes met again.
“When will you have the necessary paperwork done?” he asked briskly, his tone deep with guilty arousal. Now was not the time to lose sight of the endgame.
“I should have it ready for you to sign by tomorrow morning.”
“Good. Now that we have an agreement, have dinner with me again tomorrow.”
She was about to take another sip of her wine, but paused with the glass halfway up to her lips.
“There’re really no need, Mr. DaCosta, we can take care of the contract by e-mail.”
“I’m not talking about your auction services, Nia,” he replied, stretching out her name. “I want to enjoy your company for the evening.”
Evan recognized his mistake the moment the words left his lips. Something in the way he said the words made it sound like a proposition, rather than a date, for Christ’s sake! Her eyes turned from cautious to stone cold in seconds. Damn, he must be rusty. Thank God the team wasn’t able to hear him, he thought to himself.
He instinctively reached out to touch her arm. Nia shrugged it off delicately, stepping back and placing her wineglass down on a small bistro table next to them. Her expression was still polite, but he could feel the anger radiating from her.
“Nia, that’s—”
He intended to say that his words had come out wrong. That he didn’t mean to imply she was for sale or something. But she cut him off with a chilled tone.
“Mr. DaCosta, thank you for dinner and considering Worthington for your needs. But I’m afraid I can’t provide you with the services you are seeking.”
As she turned to walk away, he grabbed her arm in a grip firmer than he intended. She pulled back with surprising strength and momentum. Evan reacted, pulling her back toward him. She stumbled in her shoes, landing against his chest. He quickly put down his drink in order to catch her before she fell farther.
“Nia,” he stated, looking down at her. Fear now replaced anger in her brilliant, feline eyes, yet she still tugged at his hold, defiantly.
He didn’t think, he didn’t strategize, he just kissed her.
She froze against him, but Evan was on autopilot. Her body felt soft and lush in his arms. The scent of her skin teased him, like dark, sweet cherries. He swept his tongue along her lips, wanting to taste more, praying she would open for him. Something dark and primitive was driving him to savor the moment before they both came to their senses.
Her lips parted with a sigh, and Evan deepened the kiss. Nia tentatively brushed his tongue with hers, and sharp tingles of energy swept down his spine. One of them groaned and he felt the vibration in his balls. He pulled her closer, with his arms wrapped solidly around her lithe body, devouring her mouth like a starving man. It was hot, deep, and so intimate that sweat broke out on his forehead.
If the way that Nia was responding to him was any indication of how successful his cover was going to be, Evan should have been elated. After all, he had almost blown it with his thoughtless remark. Yet, all he felt was out of control, like he was drowning and couldn’t get enough air. His heart was racing, his body hard and throbbing. And none of it had to do with his cover, his job, or the mission.
Evan let go of her, stepping back so he could cool down. He watched through hooded eyes as she brushed her hand over her lips with a dazed look on her face, as though she was as confused as he was. It made him feel better. Just a little.
“I’m sorry, Nia,” he stated.
She straightened her shoulders and faced him squarely. Whatever she had been thinking was now erased from her face.
“For what exactly, Evan?” she shot back. “For insinuating I’m a commodity available to buy? Or for . . . that?”
She gestured between them with her hands, obviously indicating the kiss. Evan wiped his lips with his finger, certain they were now stained with her red lipstick. There was only a trace of bold color left on hers.
“For the former. Definitely not for the latter.”
She just glared at him.
“Nia, I am inviting you to have dinner with me to spend more time with you, get to know you better. That’s all. No strings,” he clarified.
“Why?”
Evan raised his brows.
“I think we both know why, Nia. I like you. I’m attracted to you, that’s why.”
“I mean, to what end, Evan?”
He smiled with satisfaction. This woman was not a helpless victim, or easily manipulated. Nia James was just as sharp and strong-willed as he had predicted. He licked his lips deliberately, suggestively, reminding her of how hot they had both been only moments earlier.
“Ms. James, do I have to explain the birds and the bees to you? This can’t be the first time you’ve been asked out on a date?”
She looked away, exasperated with his teasing.
“This isn’t a game, Mr. DaCosta. I’m not interested in being played with, nor am I for sale.”
Evan nodded. He stepped to her, close enough to enjoy her scent without touching.
“Like I said, I’m attracted to you and I would like to get to know you better. If you’re not interested, just say no. But either way, you will still have my business.”
Nia looked away briefly to a spot over his shoulder.
“It’s late, I have to go,” was all she said in response.
He nodded again, feeling awkward.
“All right, I’ll walk you out.”
As they walked across the terrace, Evan’s mind was racing. He’d screwed up. Nothing had gone according to his plan. Instead of wooing her with the promise of a quick liaison, he had let his physical reaction to her mess with his control. Now, their best opportunity to solve the job fast was about to walk out the door.
In the hotel suite, she picked up her purse off the sofa and continued to the front door.
“Nia.” She paused with her hand on the door handle, her back to him. “Send me the auction papers in the morning.”
She turned to face him then, her shoulders stiff and back straight. Her eyes met his unflinchingly. They were sharp and clear, letting him know that anything further that happened was her decision, including accepting his business. Evan had to admire her balls.
“Good night, Mr. DaCosta.”
Chapter 4
Nia was barely aware of the cab ride home from the hotel. Her mind was running in a hundred directions, trying to make sense of the evening. And the kiss.
; That kiss was . . . spectacular, on every level. She had felt it from her lips down to her toes, and in every erogenous zone in between. Even now, she clearly remembered the impact, and recrossed her legs to smother the tingle between her thighs. How was it possible for a virtual stranger to light her up like that, with just a kiss?
The situation itself was not all that unique. Men often asked her out, from clients to business associates. Some even propositioned an “arrangement,” like she had assumed Evan was doing. They might be married or engaged, but wanted something on the side, from one night to full-on mistress status. It was not uncommon in the world that Nia worked in.
She had learned years ago that the wealthy elite lived by a different set of rules than regular people, and very often had a different moral compass. It usually didn’t bother her, and she had developed a knack for effectively turning down the offers. In fact, many of those men had become regular buyers or repeat customers over the years. Of course, some still continued to try getting into her bed. After all, men in general, rich or poor, wanted what they couldn’t have.
It was true that Nia did get more than her fair share of offers. Her best friend, Lianne, insisted it wasn’t just because she was an attractive woman. Lianne claimed that Nia, with her power suits and killer stilettos, had a high-end dominatrix vibe going on that drove men nuts. They had some sort of primitive urge to break her control or have her control them. The instinct was likely even stronger for powerful and influential men. Nia assumed Lianne, a psychologist, knew what she was talking about. As fascinating as that might be, it didn’t matter. Her weakness for expensive clothes had more to do with once being the poor girl in a wealthy school than attracting men. And she wasn’t looking for a sugar daddy or husband right now, anyway. She only wanted clients with big wallets or valuable collectibles to sell.
At least, it usually was. Evan DaCosta had caught her eye from the moment he had stepped out of his car in front of Worthington. Something about him got under her skin. Sure, he was good-looking in a clean-cut, Boy Scout sort of way. But it wasn’t really about that. From their first meeting in the gallery, he seemed strong and capable. Not that she needed those things. Nia had spent years taking care of herself, and certainly wasn’t looking for a man to take over. But she couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him.
Now the question was what to do about it.
It was shortly after nine o’clock when the cab dropped her off in front of her two-floor apartment in a South Boston duplex. Once inside, Nia peeled off her clothes upstairs in her bedroom, and headed straight into the bathroom for a long shower. She used the time to wash her hair, and to think. There was so much going on, between the upcoming auction and the investigation into the theft. It was hardly time to start dating someone new.
Or maybe it was exactly what she needed. Maybe a harmless diversion would help her get through the next few weeks. Assuming she didn’t get fired, or arrested for a crime she didn’t commit. And since Evan was only in Boston for work, why not at least go out for dinner? Standing in front of her foggy bathroom mirror, Nia couldn’t think of a good objection.
Decision made, she slathered her skin with body cream and dried her hair straight, before dressing in soft cotton pajamas. Downstairs, with her iPad and a cup of tea, she spent the remainder of the evening listening to music and reading all the web links about Evan DaCosta that she had skipped over earlier. Diversion or not, she still wanted to know exactly who and what she was getting involved with.
Nia headed up to bed at around eleven o’clock. She snuggled under the covers, ready to fall asleep to the drone of the nightly news with her bedroom television on sleep mode.
“In local news, the police have identified the body of the man killed in Dorchester this afternoon,” the female news anchor stated. “Matthew Flannigan, a local resident of Dorchester, was shot dead in an alley near the Savin Hill train station. . . .”
Nia bolted up into a sitting position, certain she had heard wrong. But the portrait on the television screen was indeed that of the Worthington security guard. The same security guard who had worked the night shift during a flawlessly executed robbery just forty-eight hours ago.
She flopped back onto her pillow, covering her mouth with both hands while her heart beat fast and hard. First theft, now murder? The people who were behind this were serious. And with over thirty million dollars of irreplaceable jewelry in play, there was likely very little they wouldn’t do to get away with it all.
How the hell had she ended up in this middle of this crazy mess?
Nia’s mind raced in circles for several hours before she managed to get some restless sleep. Thursday morning, she skipped her usual workout at the gym in order to get into the office before eight o’clock. The investigators had booked two hours with her, starting at nine, so she planned to get as much work as possible done before that, including the contract for Evan.
“Morning, Nia.”
She looked up to find one of her sales coordinators, Adam Peterson leaning against her door. He was one of the first hires she had made when she joined the team, and was still one of her favorite employees. He was bright, energetic, and creative, always willing to go above and beyond to get the job done.
“Hi, Adam,” Nia replied somberly. “Did you see the news?”
“You mean about Matt? Yeah, I couldn’t believe it,” Adam replied, stepping closer to her desk and lowering his voice. “Do you think it was random? Like robbery or something?”
Nia nibbled on the side of her bottom lip.
“I don’t know,” she replied, wishing she didn’t have to lie.
“I saw Chris a little while ago and he seems pretty shaken up,” Adam continued. “They were good friends.”
“Really?” Nia probed.
“I think so. They hung out together on the weekends, and stuff. Emma too.”
Nia looked down at her desk, trying to hide the surprise and alarm on her face. His innocent words had planted a seed in her brain that was rapidly growing. There was no doubt in her mind that Matt had been the inside man for the robbery. He must have provided access to the premises. Did Chris know anything about what Matt was into? Emma? Were they also involved?
Even if they were, it didn’t explain how they knew the security code for the safe. Only she and Edward knew it.
“I didn’t know that,” she finally replied softly. “What does Chris think happened?”
“He has no clue. He just said that Matt was a stand-up guy, really easygoing. No one would want to hurt him.”
Nia nodded. She wanted to ask more questions, but was concerned Adam would think it was odd. She was usually the last person to stir up office gossip.
“Listen, I have a new client contract that needs to go out this morning,” she told him, changing the subject. “Can you take care of it for me? I’ll send you all the details.”
“That walk-in from yesterday. DaCosta?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
Adam shrugged.
“Emma,” they both said at the same time, then smiled at each other.
“Apparently, he made quite the impression on her,” he added.
Nia just shook her head. A receptionist really should be more discreet.
“Anyway, I had a meeting with him yesterday evening and he’s agreed to have us take care of his collection.”
Adam sat down in the chair in front of her desk.
“What’s involved?”
“Mostly art and a few antique artifacts from around the world. He recently inherited his dad’s full collection, but only wants to keep a few pieces. So we’ll need to do a catalog and appraisal of the items, then recommend the best approach,” Nia explained.
“Estimated values?”
“He wasn’t sure, but he showed me a couple of pictures of contemporary pieces. One was by Etienne Blanc, and if it’s an original, could be worth over five hundred thousand at auction. So, it sounds like a pretty valuable collection, maybe worth severa
l million? But we won’t know for sure until it’s all appraised.”
“Nice,” Adam stated, his eyes glittering with excitement.
As an art major at the Boston campus of the University of Massachusetts, this was just the type of account he enjoyed working on.
“The only complication is that Mr. DaCosta is based in Virginia, near D.C., so we’ll have to do the work there,” she added.
“Are you going to manage it?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. It depends on how things progress with the August auction.”
“I can work on it with you,” he offered.
Nia nodded.
“That would make it easier,” she agreed. “Let’s get all the paperwork done, then we can confirm the details over the next few days.”
“Cool. Send me the specifics and I’ll take care of it this morning.”
“Thanks, Adam. I’ll be in a meeting until about eleven o’clock.”
“Sure, boss.”
Nia smiled as he strode out of her office. There couldn’t be more than five to six years between them, but Adam made her feel old.
At eight fifty-eight, Nia left her office to walk to the conference room in the far right end of the loft floor. She had worn her favorite dress, using it like armor to feel more confident and self-assured. It was a black sleeveless sheath with a square neck and white exposed zipper from neck to hem down the back. A thin white belt accentuated her waist, and matched her black-and-white four-inch pumps. A light pink-and-turquoise silk scarf was wrapped loosely around her neck to soften the look and cover her cleavage.
She took a deep breath before pushing open the boardroom doors. There were two men inside standing next to the long, oval table. God, they were big. Almost as big as Evan.
“Ms. James?” one of them asked as they approached her. “I’m Michael Thorpe, a security consultant with Fortis. This is my colleague, Raymond Blunt. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”
Nia shook both their hands, but remained silent. Though they both seemed professional and cordial, she knew better than to relax. These men were hired to find professional thieves and millions of dollars in jewelry, and they needed to do it fast. Like Edward had reminded her, they were going to take the straightest path to the truth, and unfortunately she was directly in their sight lines and could easily get run over in the process.