by Jax Abbey
“Uh, could you give me a second? I can’t find my phone and I think I dropped it somewhere in my car.”
Claudia’s eyes narrowed; she’d always been able to see through his lies. She shrugged and began walking down the stairs. “I hope you’re not doing anything stupid. But if you are, it’s your funeral.”
“You always did look out for me,” Finn remarked as they arrived at the bottom of the staircase. “I’ll be right back.”
Claudia folded her arms over her chest. “I’ll be waiting in the foyer so I can let you back in. You have five minutes.”
Finn nodded and strolled to the front doors in what he hoped was a carefree manner. He made a beeline to the Roadster, hopped in, and pulled it down the winding drive of the house. He turned off the car and scanned the area before reaching up under his shirt and ripping the wire from his chest. He opened the glove compartment and stuffed everything in. Let the Feds get upset with him; he didn’t care. He pulled away from the curb and made his way back toward the mansion.
Wordlessly, Claudia let him back inside the house and led him to the formal living room. She seated herself in one of the French chairs flanking the tall stone fireplace and gestured for Finn to sit in the other.
They sat studying each other for a few moments. Finn felt just as uncomfortable as he had when they’d first started dating; back then he couldn’t believe a girl like Claudia von Rothschild would date someone like him. His feelings of inferiority became one of the pressure points in their relationship. He had never been able to get over the fact that Claudia was raised in mansions, owned horses and a stable, and more than that, had an impressive trust fund. She had no cares when it came to money, and spent it as if her life depended on it, whereas Finn had to fight for every single cent. What did he have to offer her?
“So,” Claudia said. She looked relaxed, leaning against the back of the chair with her legs crossed. But Finn could tell she was trying to mask her discomfort.
“How’s Paris?” he asked lightly.
She pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t know. I moved to New York three years ago. I have a place on Park Avenue.”
“Oh…” Finn trailed off awkwardly. “Well, how’s New York? What are you doing these days?”
Claudia rolled her eyes. “Stuff the small talk, Finn. If you really cared, you would have picked up the phone ages ago and asked me.”
“You know, I actually did pick up the phone to call you…but I always hung up before I dialed.”
“Why?”
“Because I really did care about you, and I was sorry things ended the way they did. At the time I was obsessed with making something of myself, and it took over everything else in my life.”
Claudia raised an eyebrow. “And are you still trying to make something of yourself? Or did you find what you were looking for?”
Finn looked into the empty fireplace, reached toward his neck, then let his hand fall. He looked back at Claudia. “I don’t know. I’m starting to think what I want isn’t what I thought, if that makes any sense.”
“It doesn’t. But you were always going off on tangents while we were dating. I got used to it.” Claudia cleared her throat and sat up straighter. Finn smiled; Claudia had always complained about the etiquette lessons her mother insisted she take as a child, but they had been put to good use. “We should get down to business. We have a carved ivory pendant that needs to be handed off.”
Finn snorted. “Are you kidding? You know how I feel about animal derivatives.” Bringing regular items into the country was tricky enough…importing items made from endangered animals was just asking to get caught. No wonder von Rothschild was on the FBI’s radar. Finn filed away as much information as he could. He’d spill everything when he met up with Julian that evening.
“Get used to it,” Claudia said. “There’s a lot more where that came from. I’ll pick up the pendant today. You’ll stop by tomorrow, we’ll ride together, and make the delivery. Got it?”
Finn nodded. “Got it.”
Claudia stood up and smoothed her dress. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“That’s it?” Finn asked. He remained in his seat, gripping the arms of the chair.
Claudia shrugged. “Father wants to see how you do with your first job. Let’s go.”
Finn stood and followed her through the rotunda, but halted when he saw Billy at the top of the stairs. Claudia stopped too when she realized Finn was no longer behind her. Spying Billy, she turned back to Finn. “I guess I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted.” Her voice echoed in the cavernous hall as she took off down another hallway.
“Hello, Jacob,” Billy said from his position on the second floor.
“Billy.” Finn’s tone was frigid.
Billy descended the stairs as if he had all the time in the world, and came to rest a few feet from Finn. “I prefer William,” he said. “You’d do best to remember that.”
“Or what?” Finn said, puffing out his chest.
Billy closed the space between them and drew himself to his full height. “You’re not the big man on campus here. I am.”
Finn let out a mirthless chuckle. “I was never the big man anywhere, Billy. You thought that. Besides, you’re more than welcome to your happy little life with von Rothschild. As soon as I serve my time, I’m out of here.” Finn moved to push past him.
“Of course you will be,” Billy said with a sneer. “Running behind Julian with your tail between your legs, waiting for him to throw you another bone like always.”
Finn willed himself to unclench his fists and keep them down at his sides. Right now, what he wanted more than anything was to give Billy an uppercut the likes of which he’d never seen. He decided the best way to extricate himself from the situation was to ignore the asshole and leave. “Whatever you say, Billy. I’ll stay out of your way; you stay out of mine.”
He pushed past to leave, but Billy grabbed the shoulder of his hoodie, swung him around, and landed a punch on the side of his face. Finn saw red as he grabbed Billy and threw him to the ground, raining punches on his face with his uninjured hand.
“BREAK IT UP,” von Rothschild’s voice echoed through the rotunda.
Finn felt himself being lifted off of Billy and shoved to the side. The bodyguard from before helped Billy get up from the ground. Billy’s nose was a fountain of blood. Finn looked up at von Rothschild, who stood on the second-story landing. He lifted his walking stick and pointed at Finn, holding onto the railing with his other hand. “Any more trouble from you and I will terminate this deal at once. Leave.”
Finn glared at von Rothschild, the bodyguard, and at Billy, who was holding his bleeding nose. He brushed his shoulders off and stalked to the door of the mansion.
PHOEBE, 8:35 A.M.
A pounding at the door of Phoebe’s room startled her awake. She bolted up in bed and glanced around for any item she could use as a weapon. Just before she managed to get her hand around the nail file on her nightstand, the door opened a crack and Stella’s head peeked around it.
“Hey, how are you doing?” she asked.
Phoebe eased her hand away from the nail file and rubbed an eye. “I’m exhausted and I feel dumb. Really, really dumb.”
Stella padded across the tiny room and sat on the end of the bed.
“I’m really sorry your trip out here wasn’t what you were expecting. And I’m sorry that we’ve barely had any time to talk or hang out. But if you really want to stay, things will change.”
Phoebe removed the pillow from her head and sat up, folding her legs into a pretzel. “By ‘things will change,’ you mean no one else points a gun at me, right? I refuse to be tied to any more chairs. And I think I have a phobia of duct tape!” Phoebe said.
“I can’t quite promise that—you have special getting-under-my-skin superpowers, and sometimes the thought of tying you to a chair is very appealing.” A corner of Stella’s mouth lifted. “But what I can promise is that I’ll work fewer shifts so we can spend
more time together. And since I won’t be seeing Derek anymore, or have to worry about wedding planning, I’ll have even more time on my hands. We can have sister date nights, take a couple weekend trips, visit some colleges.”
“Sweet. I say we hit up Mexico first,” Phoebe said.
“Uh, how about we start small? Like a mani-pedi?” Stella replied.
“Only if you let me pick your polish color.”
Stella’s pert nose wrinkled just like Phoebe knew it would. Stella detested what she called the “garish” colors that Phoebe wore on her own nails.
Then Stella’s face relaxed as a slow grin bloomed. “Only if you agree to let me take you shopping for some clothes that don’t have holes in them or look like you found them in a dumpster.”
Phoebe pursed her lips. “They aren’t that bad.”
Stella tilted her head and pursed her own lips.
“Okay, okay,” Phoebe agreed. “But keep in mind, just because you like to dress like Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island doesn’t mean I do.”
Stella picked up a stray pillow from the bed and threw it at Phoebe. She easily batted it away. “How do you even know what Gilligan’s Island is? I used to love that show when I caught reruns as a kid.”
Phoebe shrugged. “It’s a classic. I love classics: Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie, those kinds of shows.”
Stella looked thoughtful. “Huh. Those are my favorites too.”
Phoebe leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “They don’t make ’em like they used to,” she said with an air of authority.
Stella got off the bed and stretched. “Well, Miss Know-It-All, hop in the shower. Derek will be here in a little while. I’ll take you for lunch after.” She left the room.
“Hey, Stella?” Phoebe called before she lost her nerve. Stella poked her head back in the room and raised an eyebrow. Phoebe kept her eyes in her lap as she played with a loose thread on her blanket. “Thanks…for everything.”
Stella hesitated, as if trying to figure out the correct response. Finally, she gave Phoebe a small smile and shrugged. “It’s what older sisters are for, right?”
BILLY, 10:15 A.M.
Billy paced back and forth in front of Christoph’s desk, waving his hands frantically. He had numerous Band-Aids scattered across his cut face, and a large bandage over the bridge of his nose. “You saw the way he was walking around like he owned the place? That’s how he approaches everything. He wears that smug look on his face like he’s hot shit and no one can tell him anything. He thinks he can get people to do whatever he wants with a snap of his fingers. It’s not fair—I was born for this; he wasn’t.”
Christoph dog-eared a page in his auction catalog and set it to the side. “Have a seat, William,” he commanded.
Billy obediently sat in one of the chairs in front of Christoph’s desk and waited.
“I have no interest in Jacob Gilroy beyond getting justice for the attack on my household.” The expression on von Rothschild’s face made him look like he’d just taken a sip of sour milk.
“Your idea of ‘justice’ for your injury is having Finn work for you?” Billy asked, knitting his non-existent eyebrows.
Christoph gave a low chuckle that scared Billy more than his father’s temper; goose bumps rose on his arms and a tiny knot formed in his stomach. “Oh, no, that was merely to mess with Julian. I have big things in store for Mr. Gilroy.”
Billy swallowed. “You told me you had big things in store for me.”
Christoph leaned his head back and released a sigh of irritation before his face smoothed back into a mask of tranquility. “Why must it always be a rivalry? I have told you before, and this will be the last time I say it: You are my second-in-command. You are the future of this institution, and when I retire, you will be the head of the largest, most profitable arts collection agency in this country. Under your leadership, I expect it will become the largest in the world.”
Billy preened a little on the backless chair. This great man had seen potential in him, sought him out, and brought him to his home to be groomed to become heir to his empire. Billy’s own father had been so blinded by Finn’s smug face he couldn’t even be bothered to see the potential in his own son.
“Stop it, William. I see the insecurity and anger swirling across your face. Dwelling on what you believe to be your unfair lot in life will only hinder you.” Christoph lifted himself from his chair with the help of his cane. He walked to a large abstract painting on the wall perpendicular to his desk and pulled it forward to reveal a safe. He removed a tarnished pocket watch from his suit pocket and unscrewed the back, where three tiny keys rested. Next he stood directly in front of the safe and brought his face very close to it. After it beeped three times, he used one of the small keys to unlock it.
Billy looked on with wonder. Whatever Christoph was going to show him was seriously big. He leaned forward in anticipation as Christoph pulled open the door of the safe…to reveal another locked box.
“How many safes do you have in there? Is it like those little Russian dolls where you have, like, five in one?”
Christoph turned from his machinations and glared at Billy, who shrunk in his seat. Jesus, the guy was scary. “Sorry,” Billy mumbled.
Christoph pulled the smaller safe from the bigger one and placed it on the desk. He placed a finger on the sensor and the safe beeped three times. He used another of the small keys to open it. Billy leaned closer, lips parted, breath quickening. Christoph pulled out a large black hinged box and opened it. He picked up a small enameled egg figurine, set it on his desk, and looked at Billy expectantly, seeming almost giddy.
Billy stared at the figurine. This was what Christoph wanted him to see? A fucking glass egg? Billy looked at the man, unsure of how to respond. “Uh…it’s nice?”
“You idiot boy! Didn’t your father teach you anything? This is an Imperial Fabergé Egg. One of the lost Imperial eggs! You have history sitting right within your reach!”
Billy looked from the egg back to Christoph’s face, lost.
Christoph collapsed into his chair and regarded Billy, emotions flitting across his face. For an instant his expression was one Billy knew all too well. He’d seen it on Julian’s face countless times: a mixture of weariness and defeat. But just as quickly, it was gone. Had Billy imagined it?
Finn, 5:48 p.m.
“And the next thing I know, this guy is picking me up and throwing me across the room!” Finn said as he paced back and forth in front of Alex’s bed. “Like I’m a sack of potatoes or something. And von Rothschild’s watching it all from the second story like he’s some fucking god.”
“Finn, man, sit down. You’re wearing me out,” Alex said from his recovery bed.
Finn sat down, but he couldn’t stop his knees from bouncing.
“But Billy looked fine?” Julian asked, his brows knitted together. He shifted his weight in the old armchair next to Alex’s bed.
Finn looked at him, incredulous. “Billy’s fine—he’s more than fine. Von Rothschild has pumped his head with so much bullshit he could float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.”
Julian shook his head. “I just don’t understand why he didn’t talk to me before. I would have given him more responsibility when he was ready for it.”
Alex smirked. “You know Billy. He’s selfish, impetuous, and you can’t depend on him. He’s a big baby who didn’t get what he wanted when he wanted it, so he ran to the first person who dangled it in front of him.”
The three men sat in silence. Finn’s fury threatened to boil over again. Of course Finn expected disrespect from von Rothschild, but not from Billy.
Billy was as much of a brother to him—albeit an annoying, immature, lazy one—as Alex was. Finn had known Billy since he was a pre-teen. It wasn’t Alex that Billy called when he unhooked his first bra or when he ended up in the hospital, underage, intoxicated, and barely coherent. And now, Billy was acting as if Finn were some stray begging for handouts.
/>
And what about Alex and Julian? Finn swallowed hard. He didn’t know what he would do if he found out Julian felt the same way. Finn had placed his mentor on the pedestal that should have held his father.
For what felt like the millionth time in last couple of days, Stella’s question echoed in his head: What would he be doing if he weren’t trafficking? And now he tacked on a follow-up: Why was he working with people who didn’t give a shit about him?
It was only a matter of time before he broke.
“Oh, I didn’t even tell you the best part—Claudia’s back in town taking care of Daddy’s business while he’s under the weather.”
Alex perked up. “Claudia? I haven’t seen her since Magritte’s Silent Auction last year.”
“You never mentioned you saw her.”
Alex shrugged. “It wasn’t important enough to mention.”
Finn stared, annoyed at himself for the flare of anger he felt. What the hell was he going to find out next? That Julian was bonking his grandmother? He blinked. “I feel uncomfortable enough wearing the wire as it is—I don’t want to get my ex-girlfriend in trouble.”
Julian studied him. “Jacob, you have to put your feelings aside. Unfortunately, as with all wars, collateral damage is to be expected.”
“I don’t like it. She’s only involved because her dad is injured, and in case we all forgot, I’m the one who did it. Can’t we put this whole thing on ice for a couple of months?”
“Has the second-biggest playboy this side of Vegas been carrying a torch for the one that got away these past five years?” Alex mused. “Because the Finn Gilroy I know doesn’t give a shit what it takes to get the job done, or who gets run over in the process.”
Finn thought of Stella’s frowning face at the Mexican restaurant the night of their newlywed dinner. “Well, maybe I’m tired of being the Finn Gilroy you know,” he said, only half joking. He rose from the bed. “I’m exhausted, and my jaw hurts. I’m outta here.”