Chapter 32
“Rebel Girl” - Bikini Kill
Maeve
This time I’m going to win. Call me arrogant, but I’ve got this month’s challenge in the bag. Quite literally, in fact. I shift the CELINE tote higher on my shoulder as I step out of the lift.
I called Pierce’s assistant earlier, pretending to have questions about something concerning HavenNet but really just wanting to confirm his schedule.
She’s too much of a dolt to have suspected anything and played right into my hands.
According to her, he’ll be in meetings until at least five tonight.
For once, our diabolical friends issued a challenge that is quite inspired. None of that ridiculous fake relationship or blind date rubbish. No, this month Pierce and I are to steal something from each other’s flats. The first one to notice what’s missing wins.
Now, using the key I had made from a mold—you didn’t think I wouldn’t collect collateral, did you?—I slip inside his apartment, praying his secretary wasn’t feeding me a bunch of lies.
The lights are off, and there’s nothing but the hum of the refrigerator breaking the silence.
I step inside and carefully shut the door behind me.
I don’t know why I feel the need to be quiet, since there’s no one here, but it seems weird to do things at normal volume when sneaking into someone’s house, even if they’re not home.
I don’t need to take more than a couple steps before I reach my destination. The painting is hanging in the front entrance, its simple gold frame belying its worth. It’s much too modern for my tastes, but I happen to know Pierce is very fond of it.
Simone Caldwell’s Emancipation.
After Walker entered it into the auction several years ago, Pierce paid nearly twice as much as the first time to get it back.
The man is positively mad, but then again, I did practically the same thing for the Amarilla Pearl necklace, which, in my defense, is a family heirloom and much prettier than a black-and-white mess of stripes.
I set my bag down and remove the painting from the wall.
It’s not very large, maybe eighteen inches wide.
Settling myself on the floor, I dig through the tools I brought until I find a screwdriver.
With the flat tip, I pry off the staples attaching the backing to the frame, being careful to drop each one into my purse.
My heart is racing, and the screwdriver keeps slipping in my sweaty palms. I’m terrified Pierce will come home any minute and find me. Losing this challenge is something I can’t afford to do.
Thinking about his reaction doesn’t scare me as much as it should, though. The sex afterward would likely be our hottest yet. He would find the entire thing hilarious, and as mad as I should be, I know I’d find myself laughing along with him.
He has the strange ability to relax me. I know he thinks I won’t lower my guard around him, but that’s not true.
I’m more vulnerable with Pierce than I’ve been with anyone.
Ever. The man has even spent the night with me—not once, but twice.
He has a weirdly calming presence, and my reaction to it scares me more than getting caught right now. He’s dangerous to my mental health.
If I’m not careful, I’m going to lose sight of what’s really important—winning this challenge and getting Pierce out of my life, once and for all.
Once it’s loose, removing the artwork is simple. I carefully ease it out and roll it into a tube before sticking it in my bag. Then I grab the painting I had custom made and expedited, unroll it, and place it perfectly inside the frame.
I’ve never used a staple gun before—who even knew such a thing existed?—so it takes me a few tries to get it to work. Fortunately, Pierce isn’t likely to remove the painting from the wall, so he won’t see the extra staples in the back.
Once I have the frame reattached, I hang it back on the wall and stand back to inspect it. It’s perfect. There’s no way to tell it’s not the original.
I clean up all evidence of my presence. I didn’t even wear perfume, in case the scent lingered after I left. When there isn’t a single thing that can point to my having been here, and the fake painting is hanging perfectly straight, I lock the front door behind me and head back to the lift.
This time, I’m definitely going to win.