1. Kat

1

The man in the corner won't stop looking at me.

Five minutes.

I take a long sip of Dom Pérignon. Five more minutes and I'm home free.

I admit this dress was a mistake. The form-fitting gown is too eye-catching for my purposes this evening. After all, above all else, I must blend in tonight, and the dark velvet piece makes it a little too hard not to attract the male gaze.

But I had to improvise when the stronzo surprised me with his latest demand only two days ago. At such short notice, this dress was my closet's only appropriate outfit. Its luxurious fabric is too thick and warm for a hot, humid night in June, but the concealed pocket below the cleavage line makes it my best choice for tonight. It will come in handy in the next five minutes.

The things I do for love…

I take a calming breath, glancing around the exquisitely decorated grand hall.

The Metropolitan Museum pulled all the stops for tonight's gala.

Fragrant floral arrangements in rich crimson and gold hues adorn the spacious room, while elaborate crystal chandeliers illuminate the space. The ornate fixtures, casting a soft, warm glow, set an intimate atmosphere for the party's illustrious guests.

Nothing is too opulent or lavish for the Flame of Mir—the museum's newest exhibition's pièce de résistance.

It's almost hard to believe that the entrancingly beautiful red diamond sits just a few feet away from me, carefully enshrined in its high-security glass display case.

My prize.

I mean, the stronzo's prize.

I mentally run through my plan one last time as the museum director delivers the opening speech for the Sparkling Splendor exhibition, rambling on about the infamous gem's significance and rarity.

If everything goes as expected, soon, the man will finish addressing the crowd and invite the gala's esteemed guests to step outside and join him at the museum's gardens, where live entertainment and hors d'oeuvres await them.

Unfortunately, I have a prior commitment with a particular priceless bauble.

All work and no play makes me a dull, dull girl.

At last, the director seems to approach the end of his spiel, expressing his gratitude to the gem's mysterious owner—who wishes to remain anonymous—for lending it to the museum and sponsoring tonight's festivities.

I discreetly move towards the ladies' room, hidden in the darkest corner of the large hall.

After stepping inside, I check every stall, ensuring I am all alone. There is no attendant. No rich girls doing coke off the marble countertops, either. Maybe it's a sign that my recent bad luck is about to change.

I wait behind the door until the noise outside dies down as the illustrious guests empty the museum's exhibition room.

After a while, I can faintly but distinctively hear the orchestra playing tonight's first live song as the musicians perform for the guests filling the gardens.

A guard whistles a cheerful tune while locking the exhibit area a few yards away from my hiding spot.

This is it.

After steeling myself, I inch the door open, peeking through the small opening to verify no one else is lingering around the immense hall. I waste no time before exiting the restroom.

A common thief would have positively quaked upon learning they had no choice but to steal the world's most famous and valuable diamond with only two days' notice.

But then again, I am no common thief.

As a matter of principle, I generally do not tolerate blackmail or extortion. I value my freedom and independence above all things. Well, almost all things, I suppose.

I would certainly have appreciated having more time to prepare before tonight. A job as big and ambitious as this one should not be taken lightly.

Unfortunately, I had to rush beyond belief to prepare for this evening's gala.

The stronzo insisted this heist had to be executed at the opening night for the Flame of Mir's first public exhibition since its discovery a decade ago.

I'm not ashamed to say I pride myself on being the best in my field. I didn't attain my reputation in the criminal underworld's most prestigious circles by foolishly rushing into heists—especially not high-profile ones like tonight's event. But a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

So, I strived to do the best job I could under the circumstances and prepared to sneak into the gala as one of the guests. With such high stakes and A.J.'s life hanging in the balance, I could hardly afford to be picky about my labor conditions.

Luckily, tonight's party led to the prestigious downtown museum temporarily deactivating many of its state-of-the-art security devices. God forbid some self-important socialite drunkenly trips one of the alarms while looking for the powder room.

I'm thrilled that the museum's powers-that-be decided to turn off their very effective and hard-to-evade laser detection system around the Flame of Mir. It is a highly appreciated gesture, considering that, as a rule of thumb, I always try to avoid doing acrobatics in a long gown and four-inch heels.

I wish I could be a fly on the wall when the arrogant fools realize what their careless hubris cost them. By all accounts, the Flame of Mir is priceless.

As subtly as I can, I reach inside my bejeweled evening bag to flick on the switch of my Security Bypass Unit—or SBU, as A.J. and I fondly call it—wirelessly interfacing it with the museum's security systems control hub.

Courtesy of A.J.'s unrivaled genius, I have the most ingenious little device at my disposal. It is no giant red diamond, but it is priceless as well.

The SBU should take control of the pesky little cameras around the gemstone, shifting them into a looped playback while disrupting the motion sensors' signal.

Impatiently, I fight the urge to fidget or pace until the device vibrates twice, indicating that the little gadget has successfully connected to the museum's security network. The wonders of the modern age never cease to amaze me. I'll be long gone by the time they even realize what happened.

Free to work my magic unnoticed, I waste no time picking the exhibition area's entrance lock. Child's play.

I hasten to slip through the doorway, barely contained anticipation coursing through my veins to the beat of my restless heart. A fluttery, empty feeling in the pit of my stomach distracts me for a moment, and I don't think I can blame it on the champagne.

Almost reverently, I dare to approach the secured pedestal that houses the Flame of Mir, quietly navigating the dimly lit room.

Up close, the precious stone is even more exquisite than I expected. And to think that all its fiery beauty will soon belong to the stronzo…He isn't worthy of such splendor. The blood-red jewel glows under the faint overhead light. The diamond's brilliance is almost irresistibly mesmerizing.

I like to think I have very few weaknesses. As it happens, incomprehensibly expensive glittering jewels are one of them. But I can't let myself lose focus. I have a job to do.

My heart races even faster while I meticulously pick the lock mechanism separating me from the diamond, each calculated movement bringing me closer to freeing the priceless piece from its confinement.

With a barely audible click, it yields.

While holding my breath, I lift the glass enclosure, my hands somehow steady.

I allow myself a moment to admire the Flame of Mir's unparalleled beauty, pausing to take in its incandescent carmine glow fully. If only we could be together forever, my love…

Unfortunately, time is one of the many luxuries I currently lack, so I carefully grab the stone.

The diamond's cool and hard feel in my hands is almost surreal. So many have gone to incredible lengths to possess it, but at this moment, the jewel is as good as mine.

The realization is exhilarating, reminding me of why I chose this line of work many years ago. There is nothing like this feeling—knowing the world is mine for the taking. It is almost intoxicating.

It is a very welcome sentiment in my current circumstances. I didn't embark on this unwise adventure of my own accord, but I am still not helpless or powerless. And I never will be again.

I secure my prize in the concealed pocket of my dress, and its weight against my chest reassures me. A wonderful surge of triumph courses through my body as I get closer and closer to succeeding in tonight's bold endeavor.

I make my way to the exit before quietly stepping out. Gently, I close the door behind me before inspecting the large room.

No one saw my daring escape.

Somewhat relieved, I relax a little. After taking another deep, calming breath, I move towards the garden doors and stroll outside, where the expensively clad men and women attending tonight's gala enjoy the party. I school my expression into a relaxed smile before forcing myself to stroll among them.

It is the home stretch now—I got this.

I pretend to mingle with the distinguished guests as I glance around the assembly, accepting a fresh glass of champagne from a passing server. I could never refuse some liquid courage, and the sparkling drink does wonders for my dry mouth.

In a perfect world, I would have loved to linger and enjoy the luxurious soirée, people-watching while sipping cocktails. But tonight is about work, not play.

My smile deepens as I visually confirm my planned exit's location. The museum's gardens extend to a service alley at the back, just a hundred yards away from the main building, as A.J. and I discovered during our surveillance work yesterday.

While caterers and servers efficiently walk among the guests, I will sneak past all of them to the street right outside, where my getaway car awaits me. As far as planned escapes go, mine is simple and straightforward. Yet, in my professional experience, that's never a bad thing. All I have to do is get to the car without drawing unnecessary attention.

This is always my least favorite part of any job. It's always a thrill to snag a beautiful bauble from under an unsuspecting owner's nose, but it is pure torture to force myself to stroll out of a job site when all I want to do is get the hell out of Dodge.

I glance down at my chest and spot the slight bulge of the Flame of Mir enclosed by my gown's cloth. The stone's solid pressure between my breasts is hard to forget, but it's still comforting to have visual assurance of its whereabouts.

Now, I must get out of here and place this beauty in that horrible man's filthy hands. I hate the mere thought of parting from it, but I can't wait to regain my independence, even if it is a temporary respite. Not to mention, it means A.J. will live to see another day. At least until the stronzo can concoct another one of his schemes.

Unless we strike first.

The diamond should buy us enough time to uncover his rumored secret and plot out the best way to give him a taste of his own medicine. I have no qualms about blackmailing the bastard who is making my life a living hell.

With small steps, I discreetly shorten the distance to the alleyway, avoiding making eye contact with the women and men taking part in the festivities.

I do my best to look casually bored while I make my way around the dance floor, the last obstacle in my path. As I unhurriedly stroll past an empty table, I set down my champagne flute. The drink has served its use as a prop and a source of much-needed courage.

As inconspicuously as I can manage, I touch the diamond through my outfit's fabric. It's a bad idea to keep drawing attention to it, but I can't help reassuring myself one final time that it's still right where I placed it.

After taking a deep breath, I allow myself a sigh of relief as all the pent-up tension accumulated during the past few days finally begins to leave my shoulders. I feel slightly lightheaded as I head to the alley.

Paranoia compels me to scan the celebration one last time, but nobody is watching me too closely as I take the last steps toward the exit.

And that's when I walk right into the arms of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.