Five Stolen Rings

Chapter 3

STELLA

Except…it doesn’t make contact.

The man in front of me—he might be in the shadows, but I can definitely tell he’s male—reaches up to stop the frying pan’s descent, faster than I can even register.

Really? REALLY? Can I not catch a break?

But it seems I cannot. His hand wraps around the handle right above mine, his grip almost painful where our fingers overlap.

I gasp at his sudden movement, stumbling backward as he steps closer, the frying pan still suspended precariously over our heads.

“Want to explain?” the man says in that same voice, soft but dark.

A shiver runs down my spine. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’d rather talk to the seductive portraits. I shuffle further away, but he moves right along with me, until …

“You,” I breathe as the light finally reaches him, throwing his features into sharp relief—features I would recognize anywhere. Dark, taunting eyes; even darker hair; straight nose; full lips. “It’s you.”

“Seems that way , ” Jack Piorra says with a humorless smile. Then he speaks again. “Trying to kill me, Princess?”

Heat creeps into my face. “Don’t call me that.”

But he won’t listen. He never does.

“Why are you here?” he says instead, giving the frying pan a hard tug and yanking it out of my grasp. He tosses it carelessly on the couch without even looking.

My arm falls to my side. “Why am I here? Why are you here?”

“I thought you were in California these days,” he says as though I haven’t spoken; he steps backward and casts his gaze over me. It’s not a friendly look. “Doing expensive, exclusive architecture stuff. Why are you slumming it in my stepmother’s house?”

“Your—what?” I say, momentarily stunned. I didn’t know his dad remarried before he died. “Your?—”

“Stepmother,” he says, and something in his eyes hardens. “Yes. I didn’t know the two of you were acquainted.”

I glare at him, swallowing as my cheeks burn.

“Now why are you here?” he goes on.

“I’m—house-sitting,” I say. I’m answering on autopilot, because my brain is still struggling to make sense of what’s happening right now. “Why did you break in through the window?”

“Because the door was locked,” Jack says briskly, his gaze darting over the room like he’s looking for something.

“Yeah, well,” I say. I straighten up. “She’s not here. Maude Ellery. She’s out of town. ”

“I know,” he says. “That was sort of the point.” Something seems to occur to him then, because a furrow appears in his brow, and he turns his attention back to me. “What could possibly have enticed you to house-sit for my stepmother?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re not particularly altruistic, and it’s not like you need the money now.”

“I’m altruistic,” I snap.

He snorts. “If you say so.” He looks over my body again, more slowly this time, and he cocks his head. “Or maybe…” When his gaze finally locks on mine once more, there’s a challenge on his face. “Maybe you do need the money, hmm?”

“Of course I don’t,” I say flatly. “Now you should leave. Before I call the police.”

“I’ve got bad news for you, Princess,” Jack says, stepping closer. He points one long finger at me, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. “You still get that little twitch in your jaw when you lie.”

Dangit.

“I’m calling the police,” I say, pulling my cell phone out of my pocket and holding it up. “In three…two…”

“Are the police really going to care that I’m in my own stepmother’s house?” Jack says, his eyes flashing with amusement as he straightens.

…No. Probably not.

“Regardless, you need to leave,” I say. “I’m getting paid to watch this place while your stepmom is gone. She said there are cameras in every room. So I can’t?—”

“There aren’t cameras in every room,” Jack cuts me off with a roll of his eyes. He begins pacing around the room, once again like he’s looking for something. “There aren’t any cameras at all. ”

I blink. “Are there not?”

“Not inside,” he says. He drifts out of the living room in the direction of the sweeping staircase, and I follow him. “Maude wouldn’t spend money on something she can’t flaunt or show off with. But also”—he glances over his shoulder at me before turning back to the stairs we’re now facing—“I already checked all that out. Cameras outside in the front, but none inside.”

Then, without another word, he starts up the steps, taking them two at a time.

If he already looked into the security measures this place has going on, that means he’s been planning this. Which means…he’s probably doing something he’s not supposed to do.

“Are you trying to rob your stepmother?” I say, following him—and taking one step at a time, because I am not six-foot-million like him.

“Go home,” he calls instead of answering me. The words are curt, short.

I reach the top of the stairs and hurry into the master bedroom after him. “You are trying to rob her,” I say, my eyes widening when I see him rummaging through one of the many trinket boxes on the vanity. “You can’t!”

“I think you’ll find that I can,” he says without even looking at me. “Especially since—” But he breaks off when I begin tugging on his arm, trying to drag him out of the room.

Because guess who absolutely will not pay me if I let her house get robbed on my watch? Maude Ellery.

“Get off,” Jack mutters, jerking his elbow out of my grasp.

But I just grab hold again. There are muscles here that I don’t remember; I dig my fingers in, pulling harder still. “I’m so serious, Jack,” I say as my gaze darts around—I’m not convinced about the no cameras thing. “You need to go. She will not pay me if I let you steal from her. Get out of here.”

“You’re so serious? ” he says mockingly, freeing himself from my grip once more. Then he spins his body to face mine, towering over me. “Tell you what, Princess—tell me what happened to your shiny architect job, and maybe I’ll leave for the night.”

My heart drops as silence blooms between us.

“Nothing,” I manage to get out finally. I clear my throat. “Nothing. The job is fine.”

“Uh-huh,” he says with thick skepticism, his dark eyes ping-ponging over my features. He scoffs and turns back to his rummaging. “Little liar.”

I throw my hands up in the air as frustration and anxiety surge through me. “Well, what about you?” I say. “If you’re trying to steal from your stepmom, you’ve got problems too.” I gesture at him. “Is this who you’ve turned into? I never expected much, but good grief. ”

And I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth— while they’re leaving my mouth, in fact, because I don’t mean them.

“Sorry.” I push the apology out, clipped and tense. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

When he finally looks at me, Jack’s eyes are void of emotion or expression. “Don’t apologize for telling the truth, Princess.” The name is sarcastic. “We both know I’ve never lived up to your standards.”

I have a response for this—I have many responses for this—but I don’t get to reply. A buzzing noise sounds from his jeans pocket, and he digs his phone out quickly, looking at it and then swearing under his breath .

“The worst timing,” he mutters, a frustrated expression crossing his face. He doesn’t even bother straightening the items on the vanity that he’s messed up. He just turns on his heel and crosses the room in several long strides, stopping when he’s passing into the hallway. He hesitates briefly and then jerks his chin over his shoulder, at the bedroom windows. “Don’t stay too late,” he says stiffly. “It’s supposed to snow.”

And then, before I can say anything else, he’s gone—out of the room, thudding down the stairs, and through the front door.

It slams closed behind him, and the sound echoes in my brain long after I’ve left Maude Ellery’s house.