“The original deal,” she continued, pouring herself a glass of the owner’s Macallan 30, “was for you to steal this painting and deliver it to a dead drop. But I had a secondary objective. A test.”
“Dinner is for survivors, Chris.” She pressed the elevator call button. “Try not to die before dessert.” chris diamond miss lexa
Chris Diamond had one rule: never work for someone smarter than you. But as he slipped the duplicate card into his pocket and watched Lexa slide the real Monet into a cylindrical case, he realized he’d already broken it. “The original deal,” she continued, pouring herself a
“What kind of test?”
That’s when the lights flickered.
Chris kept his smile easy. “If you’re here to arrest me, you forgot your badge.” “Try not to die before dessert
“Because, Chris,” she said, stepping close enough that he could smell her perfume—oud and gasoline, like a billionaire’s funeral, “I don’t need a thief anymore. I need a bodyguard. One who thinks on his feet. One who noticed the frame was wrong.”