Liam grinned. “Is that how she tells it?”
Simeon laughed. “Hell, no. She claims to this day that it was all my fault.” The trainer’s gaze came back to Zane. “As she yelled at me, I knew. It took time to court her, to know all of her, but that first spark of knowing had already told me that she was mine.”
Mav made a low sound. “And sometimes it’s just lust, and it leads you down the wrong path.”
“Kaitlyn was a conniving bitch, Mav,” Zane said. “You’ve got to let it go.”
“I have,” Mav said. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to run right back in there and take a stupid risk. I learn from my mistakes. That’s what makes me good at my job.” He shook his head. “I don’t believe in love at first sight—”
“Not love at first sight,” Simeon said. “Knowing at first sight. Love takes time. It needs to be tended and has to grow.”
Mav grabbed his gym bag. “Nothing to grow if the seed’s poisoned to start with.” He huffed out a breath. “Roth, I need to take a scan of your fingerprint so my guys can code your new safe.”
“Great.” The quicker it was installed, the better. Zane was keeping the necklace in his safe at work for the moment.
Mav pulled out a tablet. It was wafer-thin and had the Rivera Tech logo—a stylized swirl of a river—on it. No doubt the tablet was some experimental prototype that Mav had cooked up and wasn’t for sale. He could probably hack the Pentagon with it.
Zane pressed his finger to the screen and it flashed, then made a small beep.
“Done.” Mav tucked the tablet away. “Can you put my guys on the list so your building security can let them in to do the installation?”
“Sure thing. Thanks, Mav.”
Liam grabbed his bag. “I’ve got to get going. I’ve got a full day of meetings.”
“Me too.” Zane grabbed his gear, ready to hit the showers.
Simeon jerked his chin up. “Remember what I said, Zane.”
“I don’t forget anything you tell me, Sim. Especially when I’ve got the bruises and aches to remember you by.”
The trainer barked out a laugh. “Get out of here.”
Zane smiled and shook his head. He had no real interest in finding “the one.” Lately, he was finding it tough to find a woman who captured his attention at all.
Time to get to work. Doing a successful deal gave him a sense of satisfaction, that would have to do for now.
Monroe
The morning dragged on as I finished unpacking locks at the back of Lady Locksmith. I was tired, because I’d slept like absolute crap. My nightmares had been filled with images of Mag—tied up, screaming, hurt.
I ran a hand over my face. One week. I had seven days to crack an unbreakable safe and steal from a billionaire. Shoving my tiredness and fear down deep, I tossed an empty cardboard box in the recycling bin.
It was still early. Sabrina wasn’t coming in until later. I walked into my cramped, little office, and glanced at the newspaper on my desk. I felt like it was mocking me.
I picked it up.
The Phillips-Morley necklace was front and center. The thing was worth millions. Two of them to be exact.
I blew out a breath. There was also a picture of Zane Roth.
He was wearing a tuxedo, smiling, and looking as handsome as sin. My belly coiled. He had a strong jaw, and I was a sucker for a strong jaw. I’d always been a Superman fan.
I sighed. Superman would want nothing to do with the daughter of a criminal.
Hell, soon I’d be a criminal myself. Superman would cart me off to the police.
Despair tightened my throat. I’d fought so fucking hard to make a decent, law-abiding life for myself. To not be the criminal trash so many people assumed I’d be, like my father.
My mama says an apple never falls far from the tree.
You gonna grow up to be a criminal like your daddy, Monroe?
Watch your pockets, or the O’Connors are going to pick them.
The schoolyard taunts still stung, so many years later. Well, there was no time to feel sorry for myself. Mag was my brother, and no matter what, I loved him. I’d held his hand and taught him to cross the road. I’d walked him to school every day. I’d helped him with his homework, until he’d ended up helping me with mine because he was really good with numbers.
I had to save him.
Lifting the paper, I looked at Zane Roth’s picture again. He’d definitely want nothing to do with me. He moved in a completely different stratosphere.
There was another picture of him with his friends—the three billionaire bachelors of New York. All self-made. All attractive in their own ways. They worked hard, played hard, donated to their charities, and every single woman in the city would kill for an introduction.
I smoothed a hand over the picture of the necklace. Roth had bought it. Grabbing a notepad, I yanked it closer. I scribbled a few notes. I needed to know everything about it.
Sitting at my desk, I opened my aging laptop. Diamond-encrusted sapphire. I noted the weight and size. I couldn’t leave anything to chance.
Then I found the story of Kate Florence Phillips. I found myself engrossed as I read about how old Henry Morley, twenty years older than her and married, had given the nineteen-year-old the necklace and convinced her to run away with him.
Poor, poor Kate. I shook my head. Men could not be trusted. They always took more than they gave.
Okay, enough on the necklace and gullible girls. Next, I tapped in a search and pulled up information on the Riv3000. It was a newly designed safe from Rivera Tech. Maverick Rivera was one of the billionaire bachelors and a bit of a guru with all things tech. I sold a line of Rivera Tech home safes and locks in my shop. They were good.
Shit. I bit my lip. They were touting the Riv3000 as burglar-proof and unbreakable.
Well, Da always said nothing was unbreakable.
The bell rang out in the store and I jumped up. I dredged up a smile for the middle-aged couple who’d entered. “Good morning.”
They smiled at me. “We need some new locks, and you came highly recommended.”
“Tell me what you’re looking for.” I helped the couple pick the right locks for their new apartment.
Back at my desk, I realized that I needed more information on the Riv3000, and on Zane Roth’s penthouse.
I did a quick search and let out a whistle. Of course, the man lived on Billionaire’s Row at the southern end of Central Park.
Roth owned a triplex penthouse in one of the new supertalls. In fact, 111 West 57th Street, also known as the Steinway Tower, was apparently the most-slender skyscraper in the world.
I saw there was a link to a spread on Roth’s place in Forbes. I clicked it.
Damn. My heart stopped. It was gorgeous. The views of Central Park and the city were beyond breathtaking through a wall of glass. I clicked through the pictures, my stomach tight with envy. The master bedroom and bathroom were unreal. The third level was entirely what they called an open-air loggia, or what I’d call an amazing terrace.
I tried to imagine living in this place. I eyed the terrace and plunge pool, and sighed. I loved to swim. Some of the few good memories I had of my father was when he’d taken Mag and me to Coney Island to the beach.
Well, I sure didn’t have a roof terrace pool. I didn’t even have a roof terrace, let alone a pool. I lived in the tiny apartment above Lady Locksmith. I didn’t even have a bathtub.