Chapter 4 #2
Will pouted at the ring cam. “Aw, c’mon Nessie, don’t be like that.” He felt more than a little exposed here, outside the hubbub of the inner city on a charming, tree-lined street with no visible trash or rats. City and country, Will knew how to deal with, but suburbs? Not so much.
“You bring that bastard to my door, after one of the worst nights of my life—”
“You weren’t even arrested!”
“—and you expect me to just let you waltz in like you own the place? To hell with you and Cole Dalton!”
“We’re not the people responsible for what happened last night,” Cole spoke up.
“Shut up,” Will hissed.
“Oh, so what, I’m to blame for ruining a vintage Chanel evening gown? I’m to blame for not intuiting the chaos that was about to erupt? How dare you?”
Will sighed, then got face-to-face with the camera. “One question and then we’ll leave,” he promised. “And I’ll look for somethin’ real nice for you the next time I’m at your favorite store.”
There was a pause. “You’re banned from the Kensington location.”
True, but there were ways around that. “I’ll make it happen anyway.”
There was a longer pause, then, “Fine.” The door unlocked remotely. “But it better be French. Or Malaysian.”
“Anything you want.” Will glanced at Cole and was surprised to see a little smile on his face.
“You got banned from Christie’s?”
Will shrugged. “A little slip-up with my disguise as I was making my exit a few years back. I ended up spending a night in a London police station before finding my own way out.”
“You get around, don’t you?”
“Not just on people’s dicks, either,” he joked, but it clearly fell flat as the frown reemerged.
“Um. Let’s not keep a lady waiting.” He led the way inside, ignoring the seemingly open doors on both sides of the narrow hallway—he knew better than to try stepping through them without permission—and straight through to the one at the end.
It led into a sunroom where every inch of floor was packed with exercise equipment and… was that a stripper pole?
Not for me to judge.
At the very far end of the room was what looked like an antique, probably genuine fainting couch, and stretched out on it was Vanessa Irwin, in a silk dressing gown with one hand draped dramatically across her face.
She was a gorgeous woman, in that slinky sort of way that reminded him a little bit of a snake.
Even if Will had swung that way, he never would have worked up the nerve to hit on her for fear of being eaten alive.
She’d been active in the high-end market for almost two decades but would absolutely cut you if you tried to guess her age, and she’d taken Will under her wing once when he was young and spent a memorable day teaching him all the places he could hide knives on his person that weren’t immediately visible, and how to draw them covertly.
It was useful stuff, and it had left him with a healthy respect for her personal space.
In fact… Will stopped a careful five feet away. “Hey, Nessie. Thanks for letting us in.”
She lifted her hand to glare at him. “I’m only doing it because you promised me a favor.”
“And you know I’m good for it,” Will assured her. “I just—”
“No. Me first.” She pointed a finger at Cole. “You. That deluge last night was your fault, wasn’t it?”
Cole shrugged. “It’s a classic.”
“Oh, as if you give a damn about classics. You engineered it.”
“Do you want to yell at me, or do you want to get on with things?”
She sneered at him. “You know, you have pretensions of culture and elegance, but in truth you have all the subtlety of your mother.”
Ouch.
“No need for fighting words, Nessie,” Will interjected before Cole could do something crazy like hijack her home security system to throw tomatoes at her or whatever evil plot he had cooking in the back of his brain.
“Vintage. Chanel,” she snapped. “A one-of-a-kind dress once worn by both Marilyn Monroe and Jackie Kennedy-Onassis—do you know how rare that is? And now it’s ruined!”
“And I bet you want to make sure you blame the right person for that, don’t you?” Will coaxed.
“I’m looking at him!”
“I think that’s enough dramatics,” Cole said, raising one eyebrow.
“I’m a hundred percent sure you’d never risk a vintage Chanel at an event like that.
Not when the odds of a drunk asshole spilling champagne on you is so high.
You walked away with at least two wristwatches, a necklace, and a bracelet that I saw.
You’re rash but you don’t mix your jobs, so I know you weren’t there for the Puffin. ”
Wait, what?
Will stared at Cole, but the other man was running with it now.
“But you showed up there because you knew it would be prime pickings, which means even though you weren’t going for the Puffin someone told you about it. Marcus, I’m sure.”
“You think you know everything,” Vanessa sniped.
“Prove me wrong.”
They stared at each other for so long that Will was beginning to think he should leave the room.
Then Vanessa laughed. “God, you’re such a bastard.
I almost admire it.” She sat upright and patted her hair.
“Yes, fine, Marcus told me about the Puffin. He even went so far as to get me an invitation to the party, which was a sure sign that the apocalypse was coming, so of course I couldn’t fall into his little trap.
” She shrugged. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to grab a pristine diamond triple-wrap Bulgari Serpenti bracelet when the chance offers itself.
Melissa Chan had a custom one made for her in rose gold, if you can believe that. Gorgeous. I had to have it.”
“Wait, you really weren’t there for the Puffin?” Will broke in.
She smiled condescendingly at him. “Of course not, sweetheart. I like a bit of fun, but I’m not an idiot. And I was right to avoid it; look at what happened to poor Jansen and Eli.”
Good point. And yet… “So I guess you don’t want to know which universally hated asshole got away with the Puffin, then.”
Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “No one did. The display Puffin was a fake.”
“The one in the vault wasn’t, though.”
“Wait.” She shook her head. “Wait. You’re saying it was Marcus? Really?”
“Mmhm.” Will nodded. “He was really hedging his bets when it came to framing someone else for the theft.”
“And poor Jansen was the unlucky winner.” She looked between the two of them for a moment. “Neither of you are particularly vindictive. Why do you care what happens to the Puffin?”
“It’s not about the statue,” Cole replied, his voice chill. “It’s about the attempt at manipulation.”
This was why Cole Dalton worked alone, Will supposed—no one to betray him, and no need to hunt people down once they did.
“Speak for yourself,” Will said with a lazy smile. “I want the bird.”
Vanessa laughed. “If I knew where Marcus was holed up right now or what he plans to do with the Puffin, I’d point you in his direction if only to watch the sparks fly. I don’t, but.” She smiled coyly. “I know who does. It’s not going to be easy to talk with him, though.”
“Why not?”
“Because he was arrested for attempted robbery last night, of course.”