One Day Fiance

“In one way, it saved me. I stopped stealing for the rush and became a professional in all aspects. So, when I was at the dinner, it was for a job—stealing The Black Rose. It was all set up, the replacement, the bag to take the original piece, the trigger on the lights. Everything.”

Poppy takes a deep breath. “Until me?”

I look at her, wanting her to see the honesty in my eyes. “No. The plan was to swipe it during the one on ones. I’d set it up that way because people don’t remember who was where as accurately when there’s so much movement. It wasn’t personal. Not then. In my prep, I’d gotten a custom bag, something that would allow me to protect the artwork as I made my escape. Then, just as I pulled it out to do the swipe . . . the goddamn thing split in half. I needed something to hide the original in to get out of the ballroom. I grabbed the closest thing to me. Your bag.”

Shame washes over me, wishing I hadn’t gotten her tangled up in all of this. It does seem like fate intervened, though. If the bag hadn’t torn, I wouldn’t have needed one. If she hadn’t been on stage getting her picture taken, I wouldn’t have grabbed her bag. If Hunter hadn’t placed me next door, we never would’ve seen each other again. But all of those things happened precisely to get us where we are now. And that, I wouldn’t change.

“I was collateral damage.”

I wish I could deny that, but it’s the truth. “I was buzzing so much, so focused on getting out of that hotel, I didn’t even notice the weight of the laptop. It was just a bag until I delivered The Black Rose. But as soon as you told me about it, I wanted to help you get it back. I did help you get it back.”

“Yeah, you did,” Poppy admits. “But what about The Black Rose? Where is it?”

I shrug, knowing she’ll be disappointed in my answer. “I don’t keep anything I swipe. The last I saw of it was less than two hours after I took it. Handed it off to my contact, and it’s his problem from then on. “

“So that’s it?” Poppy asks in disbelief. “You took it and then nothing? Just dropped it off like a pizza? Ding dong, Dominos.” She rings an imaginary doorbell, looking skeptical.

“That’s the reality of my life. I do the work, assume the risk, but ultimately, the prize is someone else’s. I’m on to the next job with deposits in my account. Poppy, it’s what I’ve done for almost a decade. I live and work in the shadows, disappearing and reappearing at will.”

It’s a harsh summary of my life. One that I thought I was comfortable with . . . until now. Because I want Poppy to see me, to accept me, even if it’s the worst version of myself. It’s an impossible request, especially of a woman like her. But I’m asking anyway.

Slowly, I drop to my knees, taking her hands in my own. “Poppy, you . . . I . . . can you understand?”

“Understand that you’re not a petty thief who swiped my laptop but some super-skilled mega-art-thief come to life?” she asks, sounding impressed, not horrified. And still a bit in denial, even as I admit to the truth. “You do realize how bad boy sexy that makes you?”

I shake my head, blinking hard to keep myself from falling apart. “Don’t romanticize it, Poppy. This is serious. You said it yourself. You don’t want or need a bad boy. You deserve a good man.”

“I know. And I know that you, Connor Bradley, are both a bad boy and a good man. If you’d told me I was crazy or tried to lie your way out of it, I would’ve kicked your ass and told you to get the fuck out. But your honesty is unexpected, especially after so many lies.”

There’s still a hard edge to her words, a reminder that lying to her is not okay. But otherwise, she seems . . . accepting?

“Seriously?”

She should be throwing things, screaming and calling the cops on me. Part of me wants to shake her and rattle that sort of drama from her so I can write all of this off as a bad idea.

Logically, I should be grabbing my go-bag and getting the fuck out of here. But she’s got something I can’t leave behind. My heart.

Whether she knows it or not, it’s hers.

But maybe she does because her eyes soften and her hands clasp mine tighter. “Maybe. I haven’t decided yet. I’m still mad.”

She waits a long moment, letting that sink in, and then she leaps at me, shoving me backward onto the floor before climbing on top of me and clinging to me like a koala on a eucalyptus tree. I wrap my arms around her, my hands cupping her ass, gripping her tightly and never wanting to let her go.