Deception

by Tory Hayward

  ‘My business partner, Dan, will take over. He’s perfectly capable. And he’s up for a desk job …’ Jack hesitated. ‘… Now … anyway …’

  ‘Not an entirely horrible idea actually.’ I liked it.

  Dad handed the running of Taylor Antiquities over to me when I was nineteen, and still studying full-time at Sydney University. A double degree in Business and Classics & Archaeology. He wanted more time to pursue ever more harebrained schemes to find ancient treasures.

  I didn’t mind. It made him happy and kept him out of my hair. Taylors ran like clockwork, and I’d never wanted to do anything else but take the place over. Back as far as I could remember I’d been so proud Dad trusted me enough to hand it on to me.

  But it’d always irritated me that I’d taken over an established company. Three generations old already. I wanted to make my mark on it. Make it my own.

  Jack’s idea could work perfectly. I could expand Taylors, take it bigger, out into Europe and then the USA. The Asian Pacific market was large and thriving, but a partnership with a niche company like Infinity would put us seriously on the map.

  ‘We could start small,’ he said. ‘Manage clients together online at first, see if there’s interest.’

  ‘There’ll be interest.’

  ‘I meant to approach you more formally about this, especially seeing I made such an idiot of myself over the jewels.’

  I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘Self-depreciation? Well, I never thought I’d see the day.’

  He grinned sheepishly. ‘I’m sorry. I made a mistake.’

  ‘They mean a lot to you, don’t they?’ I knew how it could be when something really got under your skin, it was hard to draw the line and walk away. I saw it every time I looked at Dad.

  My mind went blank for a moment.

  Dad.

  Jack’s obsession with the jewels was exactly and precisely the same as Dad’s obsession with anything that took his fancy. And I’d been about to invite Jack to see them. Go into business with him.

  Maybe … Possibly … Perhaps let him into my life.

  And he was just like my Dad.

  Horror unfolded in my stomach. I’d been such a fool.

  ‘The jewels mean more to me than you could possibly imagine,’ Jack was saying.

  ‘I’ll do you a deal then,’ I said.

  He watched me intently; his expression confirmed everything I’d suspected.

  ‘—You can see the jewels tomorrow. But there’s one condition …’

  ‘What?’ he was barely breathing.

  ‘You tell me how you knew they were at the beach house.’

  The interest fled from his face. I thought I saw a moment of panic before he assumed a bland, pleasant expression that gave nothing away. ‘I had a tip-off.’ He would not look at me.

  Satisfaction, mixed with a sour wedge of disappointment, sat in my chest. ‘No one knew Dad had those jewels. You’ve been spying on me, or worse—’

  ‘Merry, you don’t understand.’ He shifted in his seat, agitated. ‘Your father …’ His voice faded.

  ‘What about Dad?’ I frowned. Did he know something?

  Jack hesitated, as if he was choosing his words carefully.

  ‘They’re not his jewels. They don’t belong to him. I need to give them back to their rightful owners.’

  I picked up the glass. Condensation had formed on the outside of the glass. I swallowed down the wine in a mouthful.

  ‘Are you suggesting Dad has handled stolen goods?’ It was an allegation that could close Taylors down.

  ‘No,’ he said. He glanced away, at the view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. ‘Yes.’

  I closed my eyes for a moment. The jewels were stolen? Part of me wasn’t surprised. That’s why they’d been buried at the beach, so there would be no shred of evidence that Taylors had ever had them.

  I didn’t care. I just needed to get Dad back. For all his faults. Even though he was possibly the most lacklustre father ever, he was still my dad. My loyalty and love for him made his safety my priority.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Jones, for taking me to see your friend play the cello. I enjoyed it. I will not see you tomorrow unless you can tell me more about what you know of my father and the jewels. I look forward to our conversation then.’

  I stood and walked, without hurry, up towards the nearby taxi rank to find a cab to take me home.

  My phone buzzed as the taxi whisked me across the Harbour Bridge and I scrambled in my shoulder bag, sure it was finally, finally the kidnappers.

  See you at 9 am, Lioness, said the text message.

  I groaned. How the hell had he got my number? About three people in the world had it. And now him. Obviously. I tossed the phone back in my bag. Wretched man.

  Chapter Thirteen

  At precisely 9.05 am the next morning I opened my front door, my heart beating slightly harder than it should for normal answering door type activities.

  Despite my determination to show no emotion, I had to suppress a smile. He leaned against the doorframe, dressed in jeans and a tight black t-shirt. Hands shoved in pockets, leather thong around his throat with a silver lion charm on it. He grinned, slow and sexy, and my senses reacted immediately. I scowled at him so he didn’t notice. I wasn’t sure it worked.

  ‘You took your time,’ he said. ‘I was beginning to think you’d left me standing out here and I’d have to find another way in.’

  ‘And you would’ve found it, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t have stopped until you did.’

  He nodded. ‘As if my life depended on it.’ He said the words lightly but I thought I detected the faintest irony in his voice. I met his eyes and held his gaze, trying to see beneath the charming smile, but he wasn’t letting anything slip.

  I opened the door wider. ‘Well, I suppose you’d better come in. I take it you have the information I asked for, that you’ll tell me how you knew I had the jewels, how you came to be at the beach house, and how you got my number.’

  He wagged a finger at me. ‘Your number was never part of the deal. Don’t change the terms.’ He stepped past me into the house. The spacious marble hallway suddenly seemed too small.

  I glanced at him when I heard a sharp intake of breath, and then smiled as I followed his gaze.

  ‘Mother of God,’ he murmured. ‘Its a Da Vinci.’

  He stepped towards it cautiously, almost on tiptoes. ‘A Da Vinci. I thought this was in the Brandenburg Museum?’ There was a hint of accusation in his voice.

  ‘My great-grandfather acquired it after World War One and kept it safe in England during World War Two. Then he loaned it to the Brandenburg for nearly seventy years. But after they allowed paintings by Edward Munch to be stolen, Dad brought the painting back to Australia and it’s been here ever since.’

  ‘Oh.’

  He glanced into the cosy sitting room that sat to the right of the main hallway. Full of overstuffed couches and chintzy curtains. ‘Tell me that’s not a Fabergé egg on the mantelpiece.’

  I nodded. ‘Granddad collected them. That’s the Rose Trellis Egg. Tsar Nicholas gave it to his wife Alexandra in 1907 to celebrate his son’s birthday, who’d just turned three.’

  ‘It had a diamond necklace inside, and a miniature portrait of his son carved in ivory,’ finished Jack. ‘Did you ever find the necklace?’

  ‘No.’ I shook my head. The necklace was on my list of things to find. ‘Come sit, we can talk.’

  ‘If we must,’ he said, with a distinct tone of resignation.

  I showed him to the main sitting room, it was larger and less intimate than the tiny front room. I needed the space.

  A lot.

  ‘White coffee?’ Good manners overrode the urge to demand he told me everything, then kick him out.

  He nodded. ‘Thanks.’ Instead of sitting, he walked to the window and gazed out, arms folded across his chest. Pensive. As if he had a lot on his mind.

  I watched him for a moment, calculating if I should leave him in t
he room alone. No doubt he’d begin to search for the jewels the moment my back was turned.

  Feeling my gaze, he turned and caught my stare. The silence lengthened as I realised with a jolt that I wasn’t the only one who felt the smouldering sexuality between us.

  I’d been hoping it was just me. That it was just some annoying hormonal thing that would fade away.

  But it wasn’t fading away.

  Each time I saw him I was fighting the urge to rip his clothes off. Literally. It confounded me. I had every reason to dislike him. Yet I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him until my lips were swollen and bruised, getting him naked, running my hands over his smooth golden skin.

  He was across the room in three strides.

  Yes, he felt it too. I could see it in his eyes. The guarded look that always lingered in his expression was gone. Replaced by a softness, so subtle it was barely noticeable, but I saw it. I could feel myself reacting to it, my defences softening in response.

  I drew in a breath, but that was a mistake too; I could smell him, the tangy scent of freshly washed man, it made my mouth water.

  ‘Coffee machine is in the kitchen, I won’t be long.’ I was amazed at how steady I sounded, especially as my heart was threatening to leap out of my chest.

  He was untrustworthy and feelings for someone like him were going to lead to nothing but pain.

  He’d broken into the beach house.

  He would turn me into my poor lonely mother.

  He’d tried to steal the jewels.

  ‘You’re making it yourself?’

  ‘What?’ I tried to figure out what he was talking about.

  ‘The coffee?’ He raised a mocking eyebrow, the moment of softness entirely gone from his expression.

  I realised with a burst of irritation he’d expected me to summon some servant to wait on my every need. I bit down on my back teeth to hold back a retort. He wasn’t the first person to be surprised I didn’t have legions of servants.

  After my mother died there had been a nanny, a housekeeper and a chef. They’d all been wonderful people, and thanks to them, Lib and the Davenports, my teenaged years had been filled with warm people who made sure I felt loved and supported. But when the time came, and each had retired, I hadn’t replaced them, though cleaners came through the house once a fortnight.

  I wasn’t enough of a recluse to do the vacuuming.

  ‘I gave my staff the weekend off.’ I matched his light tone, and added a hint of sarcasm.

  He didn’t notice.

  ‘Oh.’ He looked around, shifting from one foot to the other. ‘Nice place you’ve got here.’

  ‘Yes. It’s nice.’

  ‘Why won’t you sell me the jewels?’ The words exploded out of him, as if he couldn’t hold them in any longer. ‘I’ll pay whatever you want. Do whatever you want. I just—’ He drew in a long breath. ‘Please. I’m begging you.’

  ‘I have my reasons, Jack. If I could sell them to you, I would.’ I meant it. He could have them and be damned. But unfortunately for him, right now, I needed them more.

  ‘Just explain why. Just tell me—’

  I held up a hand. ‘How did you know I had the jewels at the beach house? How did you get my number?’

  ‘I’m good at research,’ he said. ‘Just like you, and your father. It’s what we do in this business. Find out the details. Put two and two together.’

  ‘You knew my father had them. You knew they were stolen. How did you know?’

  A boat motored past on the water. He said nothing.

  ‘We’re at an impasse then,’ I said, as the silence got awkward.

  ‘No we aren’t.’ There was a hint of belligerence in his tone. As if he was as tired of this conversation as me. ‘You have the jewels. I have nothing to lose.’

  He reached for me, and I drew back with a startled yelp. But he was too quick. He grabbed my hand and with a metallic snap a cold hard handcuff encircled my wrist.

  I froze. Stunned with surprise. Staring at my hand, scarcely able to believe what I was seeing.

  ‘What are you doing?’ My voice rose an octave, and I didn’t try to pretend I wasn’t completely freaked out.

  I jerked my hand back, to slip it out of the cuff. Was he in league with Dad’s kidnappers after all?

  I yanked on the cuff, hard and then harder. He watched me. The tugging didn’t even make him move. He simply waited for me to stop and then, when I paused, confused and trying to figure out had happened, he snapped the other cuff around his own wrist with a practiced move.

  I blinked at the sight of both our hands cuffed together. Was this some kinky fetish sex thing? I stared at him and couldn’t think of a thing to say. The words were stuck in my chest.

  His face was expressionless, just blandly neutral.

  Part of me was glad to see no lust or avarice there.

  But my heart contracted tighter in my chest, I could feel the tendrils of panic closing around it. This was not a spontaneous action, Jack Jones was working to a plan.

  ‘I don’t think this is funny. Is this your idea of a joke? Because I really don’t think it’s funny.’ My voice was high-pitched and angry.

  ‘See this.’ He held up a small key between his thumb and first finger. ‘Only thing that will unlock us.’

  I watched in horror as he placed it on his tongue and then swallowed.

  ‘Don’t,’ I shrieked, but it was far, far, too late.

  ‘Gone.’ He rubbed his free hand across his mouth. ‘Delicious.’

  ‘How dare you?’

  ‘Well, I admit it’s not how I usually do things, but in this case it seemed like the best option.’ For a moment I thought I saw a hint of shame behind his eyes, but when I looked more closely I saw there was nothing there but arrogance.

  ‘You idiot. What is the meaning of this? I do not understand what you think you are doing. What sane person would handcuff themselves to someone?’

  He stepped closer. Making my senses react. ‘Some people pay good money for this.’

  ‘You will regret this,’ I snarled.

  ‘Come on, Lioness, it’ll be fun. In twelve to twenty-four hours the key will reappear and we can both go look for it together.’

  I froze, so horrified at the thought, I could barely form a sentence. ‘You are beyond disgusting. You completely disgust me.’

  He grinned. ‘Nah, you think I’m adorable. I can see it in your eyes.’

  I jerked my hand down so that the handcuffs bit cruelly into his wrist.

  ‘Ow, that hurt,’ he said.

  ‘Good,’ I sniped. ‘This is assault, abduction, completely illegal. I’m calling the police.’

  ‘Or a kinky night that’s gone horribly wrong.’ Light glinted in his unsympathetic eyes. ‘Would you like a kinky night, Lioness?’

  I narrowed my eyes and pushed my face into his, ignoring the images his words had summoned. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  He lifted his phone and snapped a picture.

  ‘You tell the police, I’ll call the media.’ He angled the phone to take another snap.

  I twisted away from him. ‘You bastard.’

  ‘Sell me the jewels and I’ll go away and leave you in peace.’

  ‘I can’t. And I certainly don’t negotiate with bullies. Which is what this is—’ I held up the cuffed hand. ‘Bullying.’

  ‘You’re being stubborn. You are being a spoiled princess. I need the jewels and you won’t sell them out of pique. I’ve met your sort before and I’m not letting you get away with it.’

  ‘Spoiled? Princess?’ The fury simmered in my voice.

  A crash from the front of the house made us both freeze.

  ‘Where are you?’ screamed a female voice. ‘Where the fucking bloody hell are you?’

  Libby.

  Thank God.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘That’s Libby. Sounds like she’s a bit pissed off,’ I said dryly.

  Even though I had pretty much expected this reac
tion from her, apprehension twisted in my gut. It was pretty obvious she’d completely lost it.

  ‘How dare you?’ howled Libby again, her voice shaking with rage.

  The sound of the front door slamming shut made Jack flinch.

  I glanced at him. ‘Really?’

  Now he flinched?

  Libby stormed in, her face scarlet and screwed up in a furious glare, her make-up put on badly, lipstick smeared, a line of black beneath her eyebrows where she’d blinked before her mascara had dried. Her dark hair, obviously unwashed and up in a messy lopsided bun.

  ‘Wow, that’s one cranky lady.’ Jack stepped forward so his broad shoulder shielded me.

  ‘Move,’ I snarled under my breath. ‘This is nothing to do with you.’

  ‘How. Dare. You?’ Libby advanced with a murderous look in her eyes. So angry she barely glanced at Jack, and didn’t notice the handcuffs.

  I felt a small moment of fear. I’d never, in all my years, seen Libby lose control. A small part of me was relieved. She’d been under a desperate amount of stress over the last eighteen months. Each piece of bad news met with grace, resignation, and a bulletproof positive attitude. But I, who’d known her since I was five, had wondered when she’d crack.

  It looked like today might be that day.

  I raised my chin and met Libby’s stare. ‘How dare I what?’

  ‘Don’t put on the ice-queen act with me. It doesn’t work. I’ve known you since you were five.’ Lib’s voice shook, but there was a touch less anger.

  ‘Well?’

  Libby hesitated. Her bottom lip trembled and a tear rolled down her cheek. ‘How dare you pay the house off.’ Her voice, hoarse from yelling, held a world of pain. ‘How could you? I told you time and again not to. But you just barge in, ignoring what everyone wants, controlling everything.’

  I hid a stab of guilt. ‘And how dare you not let me help. How dare you put yourself through the misery of the last eighteen months and not let me help.’ My voice wobbled on the last word as I held back the hurt. ‘Your family is my family. You and the Davenports are all I’ve ever had. And yet you carried on like I didn’t belong, that I couldn’t help.’