Stolen: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (Heists & Hearts Book 1)

by Callahan, Roxy

  “Pretty much.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Porter says. I can practically see him shaking his head.

  “Well, it does sound that way,” I reply.

  “I have a theory why St. James has involved you in this.”

  “Tell me!” I exclaim.

  He is quiet as I hold the phone with my left hand while driving down Central Expressway. Eventually he sighs and says, “I think he is using you as his muscle. He wants Uhvanffy to just shut up and accept that St. James now has the Klimt piece. With you there in uniform, it lets Uhvanffy know that all of his grey market purchases are at risk of police involvement if he pushes things.”

  “He has more grey market purchases?”

  “Think, Benson. If he has one grey market piece, you can be sure he has more.”

  I clench the steering wheel. I don’t want to believe that Dirk is using me just to scare Uhvanffy, but it is a very real possibility. Dirk is not only using me for sex, he is using me for some plan that requires a cop to act as intimidation. The word asshole doesn’t even do that justice.

  “Should I quit the job?”

  “No. That is not an option. Remember that you are a policewoman, Benson. There is the possibility that you uncover wrongdoing here and that it will involve high end art. I, for one, am very interested in anything you find.”

  “Well, I definitely want to help you and the force.”

  “And make no mistake, rookie. Being the investigator behind a high end art prosecution is very good for your career.”

  I laugh, not thinking that I’m talking to a captain. “Help my career and cash a big check? I’m very into that!”

  “Well, get some evidence first, Benson. Then you can go spend your vacation in Cabo.”

  I reassure the Captain that all I’m thinking about is if there are any criminal things going on. I hang up the phone and fantasize of uncovering some international art trafficking ring, and I wonder if Dirk is going to be there applauding or in handcuffs. The moment I think of him in handcuffs, I picture him naked and in handcuffs. Then I picture me in handcuffs and being totally under his control

  I want that, to lay there with no way of stopping Dirk from using my body however he likes. As I picture him with a smile on his face, I realize that I’m not sure I mind him using me just for sex. I want him to use me.

  The thought scares me. What about love? Romance? Why am I drawn to someone who feels like he can buy me off and then use me like a pawn in a chess game? Because his cock felt amazing while his hands were on my hips? Do all I care about is servicing my lust?

  I don’t know the answer. All I know is that I’m aching to feel Dirk’s body, even as every part of my being is screaming that I should be very careful around him.

  DIRK

  * * *

  I text her. It seems more likely to get a response than a phone call. Less threatening.

  Dirk

  Any update?

  Jill

  No.

  Dirk

  Maybe we should discuss the case in my office. Go over your progress.

  Jill

  No.

  Dirk

  I promise to be good.

  Jill

  No.

  Dirk

  Don’t you trust me?

  Jill

  No.

  Dirk

  You are even sexy in text messages.

  She doesn’t reply, so I call her. I don’t expect her to pick up, but she does. Before I can say anything, she says, “Tell me why you think the Klimt pieces weren’t destroyed by the Germans.”

  Now that is interesting. She is starting to question me. I wonder what she has uncovered. “You saw them. They can’t be destroyed if they are hanging in my private gallery.”

  “Maybe they are forgeries.”

  “I’ve had them analyzed. They are legitimate.” I am annoyed. Uhvanffy must have said something to Jill. She is quiet. “You don’t trust me.”

  “No.”

  “Jill, I have my weaknesses and demons, but I assure you—those are the original Klimt Faculty paintings. Well, at least two of them.”

  “Uhvanffy told me the paintings were destroyed during World War Two.”

  So Uhvanffy has decided to play games. Well, his mistake. “That’s the widely held belief, but Uhvanffy knows the truth. I told you, Uhvanffy’s an asshole. He’s lying to you, and I won’t accept people lying to you, Jill. Clearly, he’s worn out his usefulness.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing. I have to go. You’re doing a good job. Ignore Uhvanffy, though. He’s a dead end.” I hang up the phone and dial a number I hadn’t dialed in a long time.

  JILL

  * * *

  A dead end? He is the one who owned the stolen piece. Presumably he is the one who knows the most about the burglary. He is the fucking principal actor in this crime. How could he be a dead end? I shake my head. Dirk’s sexiness is quickly being overshadowed by his maddening personality.

  The worst part is that there is nothing I can do. Dirk’s the boss. If he says to drop something, I have to drop something. This isn’t like police work. That said, I don’t give up easily. I decide to attack the case from a different angle. Even though Dirk said they are legitimate, I am going to research the provenance of the pieces anyway—confirming whether the pieces actually were destroyed and are forgeries or whether they are illegal war trophies passed along in the grey market.

  This is now my mission: If the paintings had survived World War Two, I will find out, no matter what it takes. Dirk will learn that if he is going to hire me to find answers, I will damn well find them.

  The next day I am in my office researching a list of experts on World War Two art theft and loss when my cell phone rings. It is Porter.

  “Benson” I answer.

  “Hi Jill. It’s Captain Porter. How are things?”

  “Hi Captain. Thanks for checking in. Things are frustrating, to be honest. I’m researching art provenance right now, as I was told not to talk to the victim and/or witness.”

  There is a pause, and then Porter answers, his voice uncharacteristically cold. “Are you telling me that St. James told you not to contact Uhvanffy?”

  “Yeah. He is mad that Uhvanffy lied to me about his own Klimt pieces and the missing third painting.”

  “How mad was he?” Porter’s voice sounds odd.

  “Wait, why are you asking?”

  There is a pause and then Porter replies, “I want to you to come to Central Precinct right now. I’ll call Groban. We need to talk.”

  “What is going on?” I ask, frustrated at Porter’s lack of detail as he calls everyone in for a meeting. “Was another piece stolen or something?”

  “No. Uhvanffy was murdered.”

  DIRK

  * * *

  I call Her. She doesn’t answer.

  I text her. She doesn’t reply.

  I know it’s the right way to get her, and it bothers me that it isn’t working. I know what she wants. She wants to be wanted. She wants me to lust after her. She wants me to need her. It’s the last point that scares me. I just can’t let that happen.

  JILL

  * * *

  I rush into Porter’s office to find Groban already there. There’s a detective I don’t know standing next to Porter’s desk, leaning against a side table. Porter waves me to a seat.

  I’m now a person-of-interest in a homicide, and I’m wondering if this has doomed my career. I need to make it clear I’m not involved and that I will not cause any problems. Trying not to sound nervous, I state, “Captain, this is obviously not good for me or the department, so I’m going to tell St. James that I’m not going to be working for him anymore.”

  Groban is shaking his head as Porter stares at me. “Are you kidding? You’re here so we can talk about how best to utilize you.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” I reply.

  “For some reason, St. James wants you
close. He’s the primary suspect in this investigation. If I may remind you, he’s a billionaire with extraordinary resources. You are our best hope at uncovering anything. So here is the situation: You are not involved in this investigation at all. Your meeting with Uhvanffy clearly had nothing to do with his subsequent homicide, so you will not be talking to anyone about the case.”

  “So I’m on my own?”

  “You’re not involved in the case. It doesn’t mean you’re alone. You are part of the team. A very important part of the team.” Porter stands up and walks around his desk. “Benson, I want you to get even closer to St. James. I want you with him as much as possible. Make him like you. Make him trust you. Shit, flirt with him. I don’t care what you do just build a relationship with him so that he trusts you.”

  And with that comment I’m a mess of emotions and thoughts. I want to get closer to Dirk, but this is different. This is me doing it for the wrong reasons. And that thought makes me wonder what the right reasons are. Is it bad if I just want to fuck him? Do I even want just that?

  “Benson? You clear on that?”

  I nod my head, drawn back to the conversation. “Yes, sir. So all I have to do is stay close to St. James.”

  “Good grief, Benson. I know you’re a rookie, but don’t act like one. No. I want you to get close to St. James so you can find out as much as you can about his relationship to Uhvanffy. Consider yourself undercover if that makes it easier to understand.”

  This sounds all wrong for so many reasons. I bring up the most obvious of problems, “Sir, I’m a police officer. Don’t you think that St. James will keep me away or, at best, be extremely careful about what he says around me?”

  “That’s not my problem, Benson.” And with that, I’m dismissed.

  DIRK

  * * *

  She texts me and asks if she can meet me in my office. I schedule her for six o’clock. I don’t mind fucking her in my office in the afternoon, but she’ll find the glow of the setting sun romantic as I kiss her neck. She’ll get what she wants, and I’ll get what I want.

  JILL

  * * *

  I’m sitting across from Dirk unsure on what to say or do. He is relaxed and smiling, as if I had made his day by walking through the door. Telling him that Uhvanffy was murdered didn’t seem to faze him at all.

  “So what else have you been working on?”

  I”m not sure what he means. I am investigating a painting that may or may not exist and that may or may not have been stolen. “I’m just digging into the provenance of the Klimt pieces. Looking for evidence of their existence.”

  Dirk looks a bit confused. “But you’ve seen them.”

  “Fair enough. Evidence of their not being forgeries then.”

  Nodding, Dirk stands up. “I’ll get you whatever I have. It is… exhaustive.” He pushes his seat back and walks over to his huge window. His back is to me as he stares out toward the setting sun.

  “What am I doing here, Dirk?” I finally ask. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be investigating on your behalf.”

  He turns his head to me. “Come over here please.”

  I sigh, stand up and walk over. “Yes?”

  “What I want is beauty, Jill. There is a painting I want. It is beautiful, and it is missing. Maybe it was stolen. Maybe it was hidden. I don’t know. What I do know is that I need help procuring that beautiful object.”

  “Even it that requires you to steal it?”

  “You are missing the important thread of this conversation.”

  “And that is?”

  “Beauty that I appreciate more than anyone else. That is what I want. That is what I need.” He looks at me and then looks out at the sunset. “This is the perfect example. I see something beautiful, and I want to have it near me. So here I am.”

  I look out at the sunset. It is indeed extraordinarily beautiful. “I get it. You find sunsets beautiful and had your office built so you could always have them with you.”

  “I’m not talking about that at all.”

  “What are you talking about?”I squint into the distance, but see nothing beyond the dimming light and the pink and white sky.

  “The reflection.”

  I’m confused for a moment and then change my focus to the plate of glass in front of me, and there in the window is my own reflection. He is talking about me. As the sun sets, I watch myself in the mirrored glass. Dirk is there, and as if in slow motion I see him lean toward me. I feel his hand on my cheek, and then he is turning my head to his.

  Our lips touch, and in that moment I know that I am beautiful.

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