Chapter 8
Soren
“I didn’t—” I purse my lips and grant Maya another glare.
How to get out of this mess? “I came here to say Merry Christmas; that’s it.
I have to leave in…” I glance at my watch.
Four hours is the time frame I’ve allotted myself to keep an eye on Maya.
Anything more, and I risk leaving in handcuffs; any less, and I risk worrying about Maya being severely and permanently injured.
Though every passing second I’m here is proving harder than the last not to think about Maya in a way that is not solely observational.
But I’m still waiting for Rosie to get back to me and get me out, so…
“Three hours and forty-five minutes,” I finish.
Arabella sits straighter and kicks her feet beneath the chair. “That’s enough time to set up the tree!”
I frown, noticing for the first time the lack of holiday decor. There’s no tree? In a place this fancy? I guess the family was supposed to be gone for the holiday, but still. I may be a thief, but I’m no Scrooge, and I spy an opportunity.
“Okay.” I lean back, steepling my fingers and studying her.
“I’ll set up the tree. But first, you have to tell me a story.
Like, why aren’t you with your parents? Didn’t they want to take you with them?
” It’s a touch harsh, and Maya shoots a scowl meant to silence me, but I don’t feel like beating around the bush.
I want to know exactly where I went wrong today so this never happens again.
Arabella studies me with a serious expression and then seems to decide getting her tree is worth the confession.
“Ditching them was easy. They’re getting a divorce,” Arabella says.
Maya clearly wasn’t in the know about this because she frowns. “They are?”
“Duh.” Arabella rolls her eyes and continues.
“Mom’s in Cancun. Dad’s in Hawaii. They haven’t spoken for a week.
Both of them thought I was going with the other.
You know, like in She’s the Man. They didn’t even fight about it.
” She says it flippantly, but I can read the emotion she hasn’t learned how to conceal beneath her words.
“They fight about so many other things,” she tacks on under her breath.
Except her. They didn’t fight for her.
The poor girl just wants to be wanted. Needs to be wanted. The teenager in me resonates with that more than he should. I thought I had shut him up for good by now.
“My dad didn’t even look up from his phone to make sure I left with mom. Like I said, easy.” She’s walking the careful line between trying to prove her own genius and trying to make us believe they didn’t truly forget about her.
“But I saw you come down with them.” I slam my lips shut, but the only one who picks up on my slip of the tongue is Maya, who narrows her eyes until it seems to hurt her head, and she pinches her eyes closed, rubbing her temples.
And, okay, I didn’t see Arabella leave, but Rosie did.
She’d never make that kind of mistake. But how did she miss Maya?
I guess she only met her a few times back then.
She wouldn’t remember her the way I did.
I’ve got a lot of questions for that woman when she decides to answer my messages.
Maybe she knew exactly who “Penny” was and that’s why she is now avoiding me.
“I walked down with my mom,” Arabella says. “I told her dad wanted me to be dropped off at the bookstore for my first Christmas gift. She handed me a hundred dollars. Then I called an Uber and came back.”
“Bella! That’s so dangerous,” Maya interjects.
“Which part?”
“All of it, but mostly getting in a car with a stranger by yourself. You told me that your parents left you here.”
“Here… in the city,” Arabella says like duh. “I’m safe now, aren’t I?”
Maya looks pointedly at me.
’Tis the question.
“And that’s when I called you,” Arabella says to Maya, rounding out her story. “I bought four books. My own family for Christmas.”
“You bought The Hunger Games,” Maya says, deadpan.
“That’s what it feels like around here.” Bella shrugs. “BTW, I’m totally team Gale; he’s a hottie. Prim annoys me. She cries too much for a twelve-year-old. I’m nine, and I never cry.”
I can see Maya fighting many battles in her head. “It’s okay to cry,” she says.
Not the topic I thought she’d address.
Arabella laughs. “Sure. If you’re a baby. Anyway, now I’ve got Penny, and you.” She looks at me. “What’s your name again?”
I swallow. “Call me Derek.”
“You could pass for my dad.”
I breathe in wrong and air gets stuck halfway in and halfway out. I make a snorting sound to clear it. I’m way younger than her dad.
Maya snorts and covers her mouth with her hand.
“So, let’s set up the tree!” Arabella finishes. There’s the typical childlike excitement in her eyes, ready for a holiday worth remembering. She expects me, the man who broke into her home to steal a two-million-dollar painting, to fulfill her dreams.
I feel bad for the child—real and true pity.
Seeing how I’m still waiting for Rosie to respond to my messages and get control of the security feeds again so I can leave without being seen, I don’t have much else to do.
“Lead the way.”
Sixteen feet of flocked fake pine later, I regret all my decisions thus far in life. When Liam offered me this job opportunity, he said I’d get to right wrongs. After what was done to me and Rosie, it appealed to me more than any other occupation I could pursue.
He said nothing about being a slave to a nine-year-old dictator.
“A little more to the left,” the dictator herself orders.
“You move it, then,” I grumble but do her bidding, anyway.
It’s been like this for the last hour. I’m 90 percent certain Maya is fine but has been playing up the “concussion” card like a pro and hasn’t moved from her spot on the couch.
Not in the stiff and stuffy formal living room, but in the more relaxing family room with a fireplace and a TV.
Bella insisted Christmas would be better here.
The whole time Maya has been offering unhelpful suggestions like “That spot of branches needs to be fluffed more” and “Is the top tilted too far to the right?” I’m glad she’s having fun at my expense.
I suppose I deserve it, but one man can only take so much holiday hostility from these ladies.
“Now the ornaments!” Arabella says excitedly.
I cringe inwardly, but she doesn’t ask for my help before ripping open the box of ornaments and diving straight to the bottom.
I sit on my designated chair to watch as she shoves aside the fancy glass bulbs and instead gets out a hideous snowman.
Next comes a green macaroni picture frame and a hand-sewn stocking.
With impressive care, she places each one on the tree.
“Her parents aren’t around much,” Maya says softly.
“I gathered.”
“She’s a great kid. A little scary sometimes. It sucks they don’t realize how smart and passionate she is.”
I purse my lips, feeling that deeply.
There’s a contrast between showering a child with unconditional love and mindlessly gratifying all their desires. No amount of money or gifts can replace a child’s need for physical proximity and attention.
Arabella moves on to a lumpy sock puppet, gently draping it over a limb of the fake tree.
I pull my phone out. Why hasn’t Rosie gotten back to me? That’s not like her. I know service is bound to be spotty on the drive and in this kind of weather, but the woman practically requires Wi-Fi to survive. She’d plug herself in if she could.
Letting out a deep breath, I make a decision.
If she doesn’t get back to me in two hours, I’ll call Liam.
I don’t want to bug him if I don’t have to, and things aren’t all that dire here.
But I have to leave with that painting tonight.
No matter how much Arabella wants a family for Christmas, I can’t be that for her.
“There. Perfect.” Arabella steps back from the tree and gives it a nod of approval. It’s sparsely decorated, with only ten handmade ornaments, but she’s proud of it.
“It’s beautiful, Bella, but maybe it’s missing something. I think Derek really wants to make a popcorn garland,” Maya says.
My head swivels slowly toward the woman who has tormented me from the first day we met.
“I just got a great idea!” Arabella runs from the room.
“Popcorn garland, really?”
Maya’s lips twitch. “I bet right now you’re thinking, ‘man I wish I hadn’t broken into this penthouse.’”
I almost smile. Almost. “You still think I won’t get away with this.”
She narrows her eyes. “I know you won’t.”
“I’m a man of many talents, Maya.”
Her expression gets even colder. “That’s right. I seem to remember disappearing is something you’re exceptionally good at.”
We’re no longer talking about this heist. I guess if she’s going to bring up the past, it’s fair game. I’ve got a few questions myself.
“Should we talk about your talents as wel—”
“Found it!” Arabella runs into the room with a box bursting at the seams with items that are decidedly not Christmassy. Rubber bats, spiders, skulls, skeletons, and bloody knives. A large needle and yarn top it off.
The speed with which she found all those items—the freakishly large needle, to be exact—is terrifying.
“This is going to be an awesome garland.” She sets her stuff on the floor and gets to work, beckoning me with a bossy hand gesture to join her as she pokes a needle through the skull and strings it up.
“Be honest,” I whisper to Maya as I pass her. “Do you worry she’s going to be a serial killer and you’ll be her first victim?”
“All the time.”