He was sitting in my chair. Focused, businesslike, wearing only shorts.
I was in pajamas, across from him, on the couch. The picture was absurd, but familiar.
"Let's assume," he said cautiously. "I have a problem. It needs to be solved. It may be connected to something illegal. Are you ready to help?"
He was looking closely. With doubt.
I had made it clear long ago that such things made me uneasy.
"If you are blackmailing me with my sister," I said evenly, "then I think carrying out yet another order could be counted as a mitigating circumstance."
I really did become curious. Not because of him — curiosity itself was enough.
"Fine," he smirked. "But if you step in, there will be no way back."
"Fine," I replied.
Everything inside said this was a mistake.
"Today, by eleven in the evening, the FBI will obtain a warrant for one of my safe deposit boxes," he said, already without the smirk. "Inside it is a piece of jewelry. Value — one hundred million dollars."
He paused, watching my reaction. I kept silent.
"Why do they want to open it?" I asked.
"Because this piece was stolen from one of the wealthiest collectors in Britain," he answered. "And now they believe it's in my possession."
"Did they find evidence? Or trails leading to you?"
"Not exactly. They found a path. But there is a nuance."
"What kind?"
"I didn't steal this piece," he said calmly. "I bought it."
The smile was brazen.
"Theft is not my line of work. The FBI believes the thief was working for me. That's not true. I simply found him faster. Then I applied pressure. And bought it."
He looked straight at me.
"You know I like rare things."
I remained silent. The fact remained a fact: the purchase was illegal.
"The intermediary reported that the warrant will be issued tonight. Until then, they will be observing. Waiting for my actions. So simply removing the jewelry won't work."
I thought.
"A question," I said and automatically raised my hand, like at school.
He looked at me in surprise. Nodded.
"How, theoretically, did the agents find out that the piece is in this particular bank?"
"Good question," he said and frowned. "That's another story. I'm dealing with it."
He leaned slightly forward.
"What matters now is something else. How to get the necklace out of the box without getting caught by the feds."
The task interested me. I deliberately reduced it to that — a task.
Not as a risk to my freedom. Otherwise fear would start constraining decisions.
"May I see the piece?" I asked carefully, finally giving him an answer.
He took out his phone and handed it to me.
On the screen was a pendant. Massive gold with one large stone in an interesting setting.
I held my gaze.
Without a word I jumped up and almost ran to the bedroom. I opened the dresser and began rummaging through the drawers, turning things over one by one.
Theron followed me, watching, clearly not understanding what was happening.
"Don't tell me the answer is in there," he smirked.
I searched and didn't find it. And the detail was important. It was exactly what could give everything away. In my head a mad idea had already taken shape, but it lacked the final element. While I went through lingerie looking for the right bra, I ran the entire mechanism through my mind. Step by step.
"What time is it?" I asked sharply, not even realizing I was giving an order.
"Seven in the morning," he replied, glancing at his phone. "Do you want to explain what's going on, or are you just late for work?"
Irritation had already slipped into his voice. I didn't explain. I kept digging.
"I have a very insane idea," I said. "Found it."
I pulled out the right bra and turned toward him.
"Okay," he raised an eyebrow. "And how is your shapewear supposed to help us?"
By his face it was clear: he was wavering between "she's brilliant" and "she's lost her mind."
"Get dressed. Fast," I said, starting to pull on my office clothes myself. "There's almost no time."
He grabbed my hand and sharply pulled me to him. With his other hand he squeezed my waist, holding me firmly, but not painfully.
"Explain first," he said calmly, looking straight into my eyes.
"Fine," I forced myself to stop. Seconds were still ticking in my head. "It's your decision."
He didn't let go. Pressed a little harder.
"Speak."
"Look. Almost two months ago you acquired a jewelry company and workshops," I reminded him of the bought-out Japanese jewelry house. "You can distribute orders across different locations, and most importantly, assign assembly to the most experienced or chief master."
I saw surprise in his eyes.
"Can we trust Ostin?"
"Yes," he answered, confused.
I had never seen him like this.
"Let him backdate the manufacture of a replica of this necklace. That won't be a problem. Let him find a neutral appraiser. Neutral — that's important. And the craftsmen need to be motivated properly so that, if anyone digs, the manufacturing date doesn't surface anywhere."
He covered my mouth with his palm. His eyes ran over my face as if he were reading me anew. Or trying to.
"There will be no problem with the documents. Or with the dates," he said. "But why an appraiser?"
I tried to say something into his hand. He understood and slowly removed it. A smile appeared on his lips.
"When I was looking through your documents, I noticed that your sister's birthday is coming up. In a couple of weeks."
"Go on," he said in that same strangely pleased tone.
The smile wasn't his. And that was exactly why it was alluring.
"I'm waiting," he reminded me.
"As soon as the replica is ready, we go for an appraisal. With a neutral specialist. We'll create a legend that you prepared a gift and wanted to understand how much it could be valued at, and whether it's even of good quality, before giving it to your sister. And there…"
"You swap it," he finished for me.
"Yes. The FBI may decide it was deliberate. But we'll present it as nothing more than coincidence — after all, how could we know about the warrant," I said and allowed myself a short smile. "Formally, everything will be clean. To get to the truth, they'll have to work very hard."
He didn't answer immediately. He simply leaned in and kissed me.
His tongue forced its way into my mouth — chaotic, uncontrolled.
"In moments like this you are insanely sexy," Theron breathed, slightly restraining his impulse. "It stirs my blood."
Theron lifted me by the hips, and my legs closed around his waist on their own. I felt the wall against my back. His lips, hard, insistent, burned. For a moment I allowed it to happen. Then I felt his desire growing and immediately pushed him away. I twisted out of his grip, lowering myself to the floor. I extended my arm between us, setting a distance that forced him to listen.
"Time for us right now is a luxury. If you think this can work, the masters have to start immediately."
His chest was still rising after the short rush. He ran a hand through his hair and cursed.
"Shit. But you're right."
He touched my lips with his fingers and, lowering his gaze, lingered on my neck. He looked as if he were memorizing it. Then he turned away and went to get dressed.
I continued getting ready. Took small scissors and went into the bathroom.
I heard him, pulling on his clothes, talking on the phone at the same time — briefly, giving orders, arranging things with the chief master.
When I came out, he was already ready and tightening his tie.
The tie returned to its place.
That meant he had abandoned that idea. Or turned it into a game.
My gaze lingered on the knot. I pulled myself away before he noticed.
Outside, his car was already waiting for us. As usual. We got in and drove to the office. Together again.
"It's strange that such a piece of jewelry costs so much," I said, looking out the window.
Theron, without lifting his eyes from the phone, still replied:
"It's expensive because of its age and history. One of the Herzegovs gave it to his beloved. Then he died in the war. There were no children, no status either. After his death she sold everything, keeping only this pendant. Until the end of her life she was faithful to him alone."
"That's sad," I said.
I had never thought he liked such romantic stories.
For a second an image appeared in my mind: him walking next to Amy, she holding his hand. And he beside her, always such a restrained gentleman.
Yes, he knows how to be tender. Just not with me.
It's not jealousy. Not envy. Just a fact.
"Today work on the accounting reports. Behave as usual. I'll prepare everything," he continued. "In the evening you and Ostin will go to the bank with the appraiser."
"I've already checked them," I said without interest.
He tore his gaze from the phone and looked at me.
"Vel is really an idiot if he let you go so easily over penny profits," Theron said and gently took my chin, turning my face toward him. "Aren't you having fun? Your smile disappeared. Something bothering you?"
"I don't like winter and cold. At this time I'm less active," I replied, not intending to explain more.
"Wait," he smirked. "As soon as we finish this, you'll be so hot you'll be sweating."
Of course. Sex. The only thing that really works between us. And that was enough for me.
"You still haven't told me why you needed the bra," Theron suddenly remembered.
"You'll see, if you trust me to take it out," I tossed back shortly, not explaining the essence.
The car stopped. We had arrived. We got out and headed for the elevator.
"Since you're free, come up to my place," he threw over his shoulder with a smirk.
"We have a lot of work. We need to focus," I reminded him.
"I meant for you to continue studying the materials on my family," he laughed. "What did you already manage to think?"
I stepped closer to the elevator doors so I wouldn't see his smug expression.
"To be honest," he finally calmed down, "I would have sex with you on any desk in this office. Banally. But very much want to."
He came up behind me and pressed my hips to himself. His arousal was unmistakable.
"But your prudence won't let me earn another charge," he said and stepped back. The elevator stopped.
"Another?" I clarified.
"Do you really think that with my reputation I have no lawsuits?" he smirked and, passing by Hilda, briefly greeted her.
I nodded to her as well and followed him into his office.
I sat at the same desk. Theron went into the adjoining room and returned a couple of minutes later with documents.
"Sit here. When the time comes, I'll come for you," he said, spreading the folders.
"Are you leaving?"
"Yes. I'll take care of your plan. Don't worry, no one will come in here except Ostin. Not even Hilda. Ask her for lunch and dinner in advance. You'll be leaving late."
"Alright."
He took part of the papers and left. I put on the glasses I rarely wore at work and immersed myself in the documents again.
About five minutes later there was a knock. I lifted my gaze. He had said no one would come.
The door opened slightly. Hilda was holding a tray with coffee.
"Mr. Theron said you don't start your workday without coffee," she said uncertainly.
I nodded. She set the cup beside me. I closed the folder.
I wondered whether she knew what I was doing here.
Hilda didn't linger and left.
I looked at the coffee with suspicion, but still took a couple of sips.
The coffee turned out to be unexpectedly good. Better than at the café I went to every morning.
I finished it and went back to the documents.
When it grew dark, the light in the office was dimmed. I had already finished with the papers and was waiting for Theron. Hilda had left, the building was empty. In this half-light the silence was especially palpable.
I watched the lights outside the window. My eyes began to close. Damn it. Sleep was coming over me.
I stood up and began walking around the office so as not to fall asleep. But fatigue still took its toll. I yawned again and again.
When closer to nine Theron entered, I couldn't hold back:
"Finally," I said and began putting on my coat. "Did it work out?"
His face was expressionless.
"Yes. Let's hurry. Ostin is already waiting. The appraiser is on the way."
He handed me a small jewelry box. I opened it and froze.
The copy was perfect. I opened the photo on my phone and compared them. The shine, the shape, the details — everything matched.
"And how much did this cost you?" I asked, returning the box.
I headed for the door.
"No. As a gift for my sister it's just right," he smiled slightly and, taking my hand, led me into the adjoining room.
Only then did I understand: it wasn't coldness. It was fatigue.
There was a living room, a bedroom, a bathroom. Almost a separate apartment. And an elevator. He pressed the button, the doors opened at once. We went down in complete silence.
Downstairs, Ostin's car was waiting. Theron handed him the box.
"I'll wait here. If anything — call," he said and immediately returned to the elevator.
I looked at Ostin.
"For everything to look plausible, he shouldn't be there," he clarified.
"Can we stop by a coffee shop?" I asked, yawning again.
We stopped nearby. Parking was hard to find — even in the evening the roads were packed.
I jumped out of the car and immediately ordered a double cappuccino at the counter.
Inside it was unexpectedly crowded. People were sitting, drinking tea, eating pies, talking. Too calm for this hour.
"If possible, faster, I'm late," I hurried the barista.
He joked about something, but I wasn't listening. My thoughts were already elsewhere. On what awaited us.
As soon as the coffee was ready, I grabbed the cup and almost ran out. At the exit I bumped into a girl and nearly spilled it on her. I didn't immediately realize who it was. Then it hit me — a secretary from Phoenix.
Her friend managed to steady her. They muttered something, apologizing at the same time.
She didn't recognize me. The friend looked similar to her. Under the coat — office style. Most likely a colleague.
I didn't linger. I darted outside and jumped into the car.
We arrived at 9:45. There was almost no time left. At eleven they would enter without ceremony.
To our relief, the appraiser, Mark Oksel, arrived on time. An elderly man in a vintage brown coat and a matching hat. In his hands — a small briefcase.
He clearly loved old things. But not cheap ones.
Ostin introduced himself, called me his new assistant. We didn't freeze and went straight into the bank. One of the elite branches, twenty-four-hour service.
After the power of attorney and checks, we were admitted. Everything took about fifteen minutes. I tried to keep myself composed, but I didn't stop counting the time.
We were led to the vaults. The three of us were left alone. Ostin wasn't in a hurry, retrieving the box, and casually talked about how Theron's sister had been distraught over the theft. Until the very end she had hoped to buy back the original. That was precisely why it was important for him to understand how high-quality the replica was. Or whether he should abandon the gift.
At that moment, yawning, I tipped over the coffee. Right onto the appraiser. And onto his, judging by his reaction, favorite suit — in the same style as the coat.
"What are you doing?!" he cried out, immediately brushing himself off.
I looked at Ostin and slightly tugged at the pocket of my jacket.
"I'm sorry," I began fussily wiping his shoes with the only napkin. "I'll clean everything up right now."
He recoiled.
"How could you even come here with coffee? Next to such a piece," there was irritation and contempt in his voice.
"I'm sorry, she's new and clumsy," Ostin stepped in and helped me up.
At that moment I felt something heavy drop into my pocket.
He understood. Which meant Theron really had trusted me.
"Get yourself in order and call someone to clean this up," Ostin said, pointing at my stained sleeves.
I went out, addressed the employee at the counter, explained the situation. Cleaners were called immediately. I headed to the restroom.
In my head the same thought kept spinning. It didn't fit.
Theron had handed the pendant to me. Although he could have left it with Ostin.
I hadn't even said exactly how we would do it.
But he chose me.
After putting myself in order and hiding the pendant, I went back at once. Most likely Mark wouldn't be happy to see me return, but there was no choice.
I stepped out and almost immediately ran into an FBI agent.