Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

LAINEY

"Yup," Nicole says, leaning back in her chair in our makeshift Love Fixers office. I'm sitting next to her, and the necklace I took from Jake is spread out on the surface of the desk in front of us, the jewel glittering in the overhead light. The desk is parked several feet away from the wall, with our chairs behind it and two guest chairs in front of it. Above us is a window that beams in light from the outside world. "It's a fake. A good fake, mind you—the Mona Lisa of fakes—but a fake nonetheless."

I sigh and bury my face in my hands. "You already went to the pawn shop?"

"Didn't need to. Damien knows what to look for."

Damien being her husband. They own their private investigator business together, and the Love Fixers is a side project for her. One she probably won't be willing to spend much more time on, all things considered. This was my first big gig beyond fun but petty revenge pranks, and I blew it in a dozen different ways.

"This is…"

I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach. Professor X, who's been lovingly stalking me since I got home, mews loudly and leaps up into my lap. I carefully pet her, avoiding the glue trap spot, because I don't want to bring out her Mr. Hyde.

Sighing, I admit, "It's all my…"

Nicole's gaze meets mine in a no-bullshit kind of way. "This just became way more interesting. Before, it was about some boo-hoo boy toy stealing his woman's necklace out of spite. I mean, sucks for her, and she deserves it back, but who really cares, in the scheme of things? Now, though…"

A knock lands on the front door, but it's much too early for Cleo, and seconds later it opens without anyone getting up to unlock it. So it's either someone we know or the kind of home invader who knocks.

Claire steps into the room a few seconds later, holding a paper bag that smells delicious and beaming at us—and just like that something in my chest loosens. She's one of the only people I can completely be myself around. Nicole, I want to impress; Mrs. Rosings, I have the strange urge to piss off. With Claire, I can be myself. Mostly. Because I still need her to love me.

"What'd I miss?" she asks.

"Oh, nothing," Nicole says. "Just the moment when everything became interesting."

Claire sits down in the chair that will be occupied by Cleo in twenty minutes. Fifteen, if she's five minutes early like she was for our first meeting. "More interesting than Rosie telling a bunch of bros who came in that we eat Bronuts like them for breakfast?"

Nicole smiles for half a second before saying, "Yes."

"Can I get a recap?"

"The necklace I took is fake," I say woodenly, stroking the cat. Claire already knows about the disaster that unfolded in Jake's apartment—and has met the cat formerly known as Trixie.

Nicole strokes her chin like she's a kingpin. "There are hundreds of replicas available online, although this one's better than most. Maybe Clover figured it was real and decided to send Lainey in to snatch it. All the risk would be on Lainey's side." Nicole grabs a Bronut from the bag, then rocks back in her chair. "Why she thought a therapist who lives in a shitty apartment building in North Asheville would have a multimillion dollar necklace lying around is anyone's guess. I'm thinking Clover's probably not the sharpest crayon in the box."

"You know that's not her name," Claire says. "You always remember when it's a client."

Nicole lets a smile flicker across her face. "This woman intentionally lied to Lainey. We can't do her the honor of remembering her name." She takes a bite of her Bronut and releases a satisfied hum under her breath. That's the power of Claire's baking, so good it makes even Nicole go soft for half a second. Professor X pads to the edge my lap, watching Nicole's food with predatory interest.

"Don't even think about it," she says, and the cat, possibly recognizing a fellow apex predator, sits.

Lifting her gaze to me, Nicole adds, "The more interesting question is why the dude had it hidden inside that book."

"Maybe he planned on giving it to Cleo, and she jumped the gun," I say. "Or it could have been a gift for his mother or something." I did a background search on Jake Jeffries, too, and nothing interesting popped. Two parent home, check. College degree, check. Professional website, check.

She grunts and nods.

I try not to feel the guilty ache in my chest.

I might have wrecked the apartment of an innocent man. I guess that makes me the asshole.

"Have you guys watched the clip from the documentary yet?" Claire asks. I texted them both to let them know what I'd learned about the necklace—Nicole because she's my business partner, and Claire because she's the person I tell everything to.

Almost everything.

I haven't told either of them that I climbed into Jake Jeffries's lap or ground against his hard cock while he gripped my hips and hair and held me against him—a memory that sends a wash of heat through me. If I'm being honest, I've thought about that moment several times over the last few days and occasionally touched myself to get some relief.

Clearing my throat, I say, "No. I got home five minutes ago. Mrs. Rosings decided at the last minute that she wanted to do the whole necklace presentation thing at her party, so we had to unearth a few display cases from the basement. She also has an extremely ugly broach she's going to present to Nina. She plans on asking her to wear it to the wedding as her something borrowed."

Claire shakes her head fondly. "She'll stop at nothing."

"I have to get Nina out," I insist.

Claire gives me a sad, knowing look. "Lainey…I think Mrs. Rosings is right about her."

I snort. "I know she is. She needs to be saved from herself."

"Some women are just assholes," Nicole says through a mouthful of Bronut. "No silent crying on the inside. No regret. No empathy. I know this from personal experience."

"You mean from your own experience of being one of those women." I don't actually mean it—Nicole is tough as hell, but only someone who doesn't know her would accuse her of not having a conscience.

"Nina hasn't exactly been kind to you," Claire puts in, which is Claire-speak for she's been a raging bitch, Lainey. And I suppose it's true. While Nina has been sweet as saccharine mixed with simple syrup to Mrs. Rosings, she's treated me like I'm something the cat's dragged in . She negs me. She sighs dramatically every time I say anything in Anthony's presence, acting as if I'm too stupid to live. And she asks me to do things for her like I'm her own personal footman.

Because she can .

That doesn't speak of a stellar personality, but maybe she's just desperate. Desperation can do strange things to a person. I once purchased three collared shirts and a string of expensive pearls that looked like plastic balls.

"She's a tiger, caught in a trap," I argue. "She's lashing out."

"She's the one who made the trap," Claire says sadly.

"And she'll probably scratch out the eyes of the person who's dumb enough to let her out," Nicole says tipping the rest of her Bronut at me. "You know, you went to the trouble of telling us that long, mostly disinteresting story about your mother, but you missed the point, Mata Hari. The real takeaway is that you should take no one at their word. Especially people who seem to be above suspicion."

Her words seep into me.

She's right, dammit.

I'm guessing she doubted Cleo's story all along. Maybe I would have, too, if I didn't feel so raw over what happened with Todd. So like a tiger who wanted to bite back and prove to the world—and myself—that I couldn't be contained again, by anyone.

"You knew I was messing up and you let me do it anyway," I say, running a hand over Professor X's little ears for comfort. She swats me with her paw.

"You're like a baby bird learning to fly," Nicole replies with a grin. "How are you going to learn if I don't let you fall a few times? Besides, I figured the risk was pretty low."

"For robbery ?" Claire asks.

Nicole laughs. "For nabbing a necklace from a therapist? This woman is a badass. You saw that bat she took from her fiancé. There's no way Toodles doesn't know she has it."

"He knows," I say tightly.

"See!" Nicole says, waving a hand at me. "That super rich dude knows she has his precious bat, and he hasn't tried to get it back." She nods as if agreeing with herself. "And that's because he knows better than to try. I wasn't worried about her."

That makes me feel slightly better, but then I get a flash of Jake's face when he told me to leave. Shit . I didn't care what he thought of me when I was sure he was a cheating, lying, stealing so-and-so, but now…

Maybe he's still all of those things. Maybe Cleo will be able to explain everything.

But I feel like that ten-year-old girl again, standing in the lobby of Marjorie Eccles's building.

Maybe we can never really learn from the past. Maybe we're destined to make the same mistakes over and over again, because the framework for them is built into us.

"Let's just watch the clip," I say with a sigh, grabbing my laptop and opening it.

Claire comes closer, and we all crowd in to watch, even Professor X. Nicole gives Claire a suspicious sniff, which makes her burst out laughing.

Claire wore Chanel No. 5 for years because her old boss backed her into it. Nicole told her it made her smell elderly. So Claire occasionally wears it under her bakery smell just to screw with her—and test her sense of smell.

"You're both unhinged," I tell them.

Nicole smiles at me. "Says the woman who asked a strange man to find her a super plus tampon after climbing into his lap like he was Santa and she wanted all the toys." She shrugs. "Not that I blame you. He's got this hot slacker thing working for him."

I startle. "How do you—"

She rolls her eyes. "You don't think I had eyes on you? For all we knew, he was a psychopath pervert who wanted to wear your skin as a hat. I'm not going to let him do that to one of my girls."

It's nice that she cared, I guess, but it also feels a little intrusive. Which is incredibly hypocritical of me since I did just go through Jake Jeffries's underwear drawer before strewing around his boxer briefs like they were confetti. I just…

Thought I could keep that moment for myself.

Why did you want to, you weirdo?

But I don't have time for self-reflection. Claire has turned to me, her eyes as wide as when I told her I'd begun my work as Robin Hood and stolen some of my mother's MLM Tupperware, filled it with food, and given it out to homeless people.

"Wait…you climbed into his lap?" she asks. She knows about my weird sex hang ups—how I struggle to let go. She's in a position to realize the possible significance of this information.

"I did what I had to," I say, avoiding her gaze as I turn on the video.

I feel her still watching me, though, so I send her a best friends look that I hope she can interpret— we'll discuss my raging libido later.

We spend the next five minutes listening to a very boring account of the Heart of the Mountain. It's described as a priceless relic five seconds before the narrator puts a price tag on it.

Nine point five million.

When it's over, Nicole whistles, her eyes shining, and rewinds to the place where we began. "I should have known. The uglier the jewelry, the more it's worth."

"I knew Mrs. Rosings was rich, obviously," Claire says, "but I didn't think she was that rich."

"She had that thing hidden in an empty urn without any security," I say, numb.

Nicole purses her lips to the side. "You know, that might be the best place for something like that. Who's going to open an urn?"

She has a point.

"Is she hiring security for the event?" she continues, sitting up straighter in her chair.

"Not enough. There'll be a guard at the gate to check everyone in. And there's an alarm attached to the actual display case."

"She's setting a trap for your tiger," Nicole says approvingly. "Vicious."

"But why would Nina try to steal it? If she marries Anthony, she doesn't need the necklace. I'm pretty sure he's got some kind of trust fund from his father."

"Sure, but if Nina takes the necklace, she doesn't have to marry him," Nicole says. "She can fleece it and be done with the whole thing." She taps her chin. "She'd be free , so maybe you should let her take it if that's your game."

Her words funnel into me and then ping around, as though they're unsure of where to go. I don't really like Mrs. Rosings—she's too hard, too conniving—and yet…

To let Nina take the necklace would be wrong.

To help her, even worse.

Besides, if it is a trap, then Mrs. Rosings thinks she has the ability to spring it.

Claire scratches her head. "I'd better warn Rosie about all of this. She can keep an eye out too. But how do Cleo and Jake fit in?"

"Great question. Let's ask her." Nicole pops the rest of the Bronut into her mouth. "Do we have the thumb screws ready?"

"Very funny," I say.

Nicole's gaze lifts above my head, to the clock mounted over the office door. "The moment of truth is upon us."

"Should I go hide somewhere?" Claire asks, glancing around the office, empty other than the desk and chairs and a couple of bookcases aligned with the opposite wall.

"So you can pop out and freak her out?" Nicole says, weighing the possibility. "That might be cool."

"Just stay," I tell Claire with a sigh. "You can play good cop."

"Oh," she says, seeming excited by this. She tucks her hair behind her ear, straightens her shirt. "I think I can do that. Kill her with kindness."

"Look at you," Nicole puts in with a grin.

There's a knock on the front door, and Claire's eyes widen.

"Go get her, good cop," Nicole says, cracking her knuckles.

I watch as Claire leaves the room, then shift my gaze to Nicole, who grins at me. "Watch and learn, baby bird."

I smile back, even though it feels like someone's been playing with my nerves with a rusted-out switchblade.

"Come in," I hear Claire say, followed by the sounds of footsteps. The door closing. "Can I get you anything? Some coffee, maybe a Bronut? Oh, sorry, I've gotten used to the name. They're a cross between brownies and donuts. I know the name's a little…well, but they're actually really good—"

"No thanks," Cleo says, her voice tight.

More footsteps.

Then, right before they turn into the room, Nicole swivels my laptop so it's facing the door and presses play. The computer starts booming on about the majestic Heart of the Mountain just as Cleo steps into the room, turning milk white. She swivels to leave, but Claire bars her path.

Nicole picks up the fake necklace and lets it dangle through the air, and Professor X leaps up in my lap to take a swipe at it.

Cleo's eyes widen as she turns back around.

"Seems to me you have some explaining to do," Nicole says, lifting the necklace higher to torment Professor X and possibly Cleo. "Because this isn't a family heirloom, and I'm guessing that fine-ass man didn't break your heart of the mountain."