36. Jenn

Chapter 36

Jenn

“Once we hand over our invitations and enter the auction room, I’ll be in work mode.” Emmett held tight around my waist as we walked through the first grand room of the Casino Rocher, past the blackjack table where I’d sat yesterday. He looked dashing in his tuxedo, the pocket square I’d bought him matching my gold evening gown perfectly. My new shoes pinched a bit—I’d tried to break them in, but my feet weren’t used to heels anymore after two years of casual dress at Aunt Penny’s studio.

“I’ll be more focused on the other attendees than you. Don’t take it personally.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’m watching for thieves who might take the scarab and whoever else might bid for it.”

That seemed excessive, but maybe that’s just how black market auctions worked. “Why isn’t the rest of the team with you?”

“Drew will arrive soon to cover the casino, but everyone else is support staff. We only secured two invitations for the auction—for Reginald and Krista Stone.”

“Shouldn’t you have gotten invites for Drew or Rav?”

“Neither of them looks as stunning in a dress as you.” Emmett’s lips quirked.

I couldn’t help but smile, his hand on my waist a reminder of our shower this afternoon. I could almost feel the hot water cascading over my skin, Emmett’s strong hands lathering me up. If I closed my eyes, I’d be back in the shower, with his lips tracing a path along my collarbone, while his fingers… oh, god, his fingers.

How had so much changed in just a day?

Emmett had always been the one I’d wanted, even when I was fifteen and he was the troubled boy my father warned me about. Our sexual chemistry was so natural; being with him was like wrapping myself in a warm blanket. We’d fallen into this new rhythm quickly. Too quickly? Was there any chance we’d still be together when we got home?

Think about that tomorrow. “I bet they don’t look as stunning in a tux as you do, either.”

“They don’t.” Emmett squeezed my waist and kissed my temple without missing a step.

I took in the grand surroundings, the sweeping lines of the cavern’s ceiling, and the sea of black-tie attire. “What happens if one of these people walks into the auction and finds out what’s actually going on?”

“It isn’t entirely black market. There will be some less-than-legal transactions, but most of the items are legitimate. Martine told me she’s enticing the clientele with exclusivity, lower fees, and the Rocher experience.”

“The Rocher experience? Privacy and legal flexibility?”

“Something like that.”

The idea of selling stolen art didn’t sit well with me, so Emmett’s mission to return the scarab to its rightful owner made me proud.

Midway through the second room, Emmett stopped and flicked his gaze up to the windows of Martine’s office. “I need to speak with her for a moment.” He gestured to a doorway built into the cavern wall opposite the office. “Why don’t you go into the auction room and wait for me inside?”

I placed my hands on his chest, sliding them to the nape of his neck. “I’ll miss you.”

Emmett ran his fingers down my arms and kissed me. It was chaste, a kiss that wouldn’t mess up my lipstick, but it lingered, as much breath as lip. When we parted, he scanned my face, his gentle smile warming me from the inside. He’d been so vulnerable and honest with me since I’d moved into the suite. Somehow, I’d grown to want him even more than I had before.

“I’ll see you inside,” Emmett said, kissing my cheek before leaving.

As I watched him go, the same thoughts that had been trying to creep in all afternoon pushed into my brain. ‘ It was your father ,’ Emmett had said. My father had chased Emmett away. How could he have done that to me? My parents let me believe Emmett had simply lost interest, but my father was behind it the whole time.

Although, it shouldn’t have surprised me.

How different might my life have been if my father hadn’t interfered? What if Emmett and I had been given a shot?

Honestly? You were fifteen . It likely wouldn’t have worked out, anyway. Sure, some people stayed with their high school sweethearts all their lives, but would that have been us? Or would we have dated, broken up, and ruined my friendship with Scarlett?

Maybe it had been for the best, after all, and now we had a chance to try again?

You’re getting ahead of yourself, Jenn. It’s only been a day.

I headed to the auction room, presented my invitation to the security guard, and went inside. It was more of the natural cavern, with a lower ceiling than the main rooms, but also decorated with elaborate chandeliers. Rows of chairs were set up near the front, while various objects were displayed near the back. Obvious security guards lined the walls, sweeping the room with their eyes.

Soft, stringed music melded with the voices surrounding me, playing from hidden speakers. At the front, the auction block stood higher than the chairs, with large screens above it, looping through items for the auction.

A server greeted me with champagne. “Bonsoir, madame.”

“Good evening,” I said, both advising him I spoke English and accepting the drink.

He nodded. “The auction items are on display until the auction begins. Then our staff will move everything to the storage area, where they will be prepared for pickup or delivery to the winners after the auction is completed and payment is confirmed.” He handed me an auction catalog from his tray. “No digital devices are allowed inside the Casino Rocher, so you may use this to follow along.”

I thanked him and began flipping through the pages. Once I found the listing for the scarab, I wandered over to look at the tiny item in person. Two million euros to start. Amazing. And five of Emmett’s team members came to Monaco for it.

What were they doing as support while he and Drew were here? Why so many of them, when the entire job had been Emmett talking to people, and tonight bidding on the item? Surely he could have done it alone.

Scarlett had always been vague about her job, which I took to mean she thought it was boring. It certainly felt boring. Not nearly as active or involved as my job.

Speaking of my job…

I searched for the Wheatfield painting, eventually spotting it across the room.

Nervous energy swirled around my stomach as I stared at it.

Had Dante been honest about Massimo mixing up the paintings and ensuring the right one made it to the auction? Should I check it out? What if it was still the fake? What would I do? What could I do if I didn’t want to get kicked out?

Curiosity won out, and I moved through the crowd.

Some people smiled as I passed, while others looked me up and down. I gripped my black studded clutch tighter. I didn’t belong among these people with such blatant wealth—so many diamonds and exotic leathers.

You’re wearing five figures’ worth of designer clothes, Jenn. You belong.

At least, I looked like I belonged.

Five feet away from Wheatfield , my heart sank. The B and L in the signature didn’t quite touch, which was the error in the copy. Even from so far away, it was unmistakable. Dante had lied. Probably told me to stay quiet about the painting and assumed I wouldn’t attend.

Emmett was right again.

Inwardly, I groaned at myself. My father was right again, too—I had terrible judgment in men.

“You said”—Dante’s deep Italian voice startled me—“you were too busy to come to the gallery. I hadn’t expected you meant you were too busy attending the auction.”

I should have known he’d be here tonight. Should have prepared what I’d say if he and the copy were here. I’d been too focused on Emmett to think through what tonight would bring. “And you said you’d ensure the real Constable painting was at the auction.”

He exhaled slowly, a frustrated noise. “Sì, my father said he would.”

I pointed at the signature. “Then what’s that?”

Dante leaned in to inspect the painting. His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching beneath the skin, and his eyes flashed with anger and something deeper—probably irritation because I’d caught him red-handed. His voice was low and tightly controlled when he spoke, each word measured as if he were afraid of what might slip out if he let his guard down. “Since you’re not here as my date, I wonder how you got in? Are you accompanying Emmett Stone?”

“You’re the one who told me to pursue him.”

“Things certainly changed quickly.” The way his lips thinned and he didn’t look at me—was Dante jealous? Had he expected Emmett to reject me? Had he thought I’d come crawling back to take him up on everything he’d offered me at dinner?

“Not as magnanimous as you sounded the other night.”

“Don’t tell anyone about the painting.” Dante cleared his throat, his features darkening. “I’ll take care of it.”

Sure, he’ll take care of it. Just like he ensured it wouldn’t be here. “Why did you give me your conservator’s notes?”

“Because I didn’t know.” His nostrils flared, and he stared at me for a beat before turning away. He dodged people on his way to the second row of seats and joined his father. He and Massimo leaned their heads together. Neither of them looked upset, and Dante obviously wasn’t chastising his father.

Mix-up, my ass . Didn’t know? Not likely. They must have planned this all along. How many times had I tried defending him to Emmett? God, I was so gullible.

Dante was nothing more than a criminal who wanted me to keep his secret. Oh, and wanted to get me in bed.

Another man approached me from behind. “So they brought you into the fold after all?”

The air rushed out of my lungs. I remembered that voice. I’d spent so much time with him while he and Scarlett were engaged —dinners and barbecues at their house, evenings out, and card games with friends.

Noah continued, “I never expected Scarlett would read you in.”

Little breaths. Stay calm. I was in so far over my head. I didn’t know what was going on with Dante. Didn’t know what Noah was talking about. But what I did know was that both of them were awful people. I turned to face him. “Funny running into you here. Thought you’d be too busy in your evil lair to mix with the masses.”

“You’ve heard about my change in status.” Noah’s gaze raked over me, as if peeling back my layers. He’d always been sharp, but an unfamiliar danger lurked in his eyes. His head cocked, and a curious smile broke. “But you don’t know about them , do you?”

“Them?” I asked.

Noah mused, “No earpiece.”

What was he talking about?

“There’s something bigger going on,” Noah said.

“Bigger? I already figured out your little game with the painting.” I gestured to the De Rosas. “I told your partner in crime that he didn’t fool me.”

“You’re kidding?” Noah laughed and shook his head. “You’re the restorer, aren’t you? The one Dante brought in from Nice?”

My gut twisted. Why was that funny? Had Dante said something to him about me? “I am. I’m working for my—” And why did I need to justify myself?

“Scarlett isn’t here with you, is she?” Noah glanced around the room, a flicker of something in his eyes. Of what? Hope? Longing? Was he still in love with her, despite whatever made him pretend he was dead?

I was probably imagining it, layering who he used to be on top of whoever he was now. “I’m here with Emmett.”

“It’s good to see you again, Jenn. But as much as I’d like to catch up”—Noah patted my arm and I yanked it away—“it would probably be smart for you to leave. Both of you.”

As he wandered off, the butterflies in my stomach mixed with the bile rising in my throat. Dante, I could handle. Maybe. But Noah? Why should we leave? What was really going on?