And I worried if I refused to tell her, she’d keep digging. She struck me as the type of person who didn’t give up easily.
“I realized dating you would piss my father off.”
A dubious look slid down her face. “Why? Because I don’t come from money?”
There was a time that would have been a factor, but no. Royce had married a Northcott girl, uniting our families as my mother had wanted. It meant I was off the hook when it came to love. “It’s because you’re too . . . sexy.”
She jolted with surprise. “Uh, what?”
I tossed a hand toward her. “Have you seen yourself? You’re fucking gorgeous, and that dress flaunts it.” I said it like I was mad at her. “Who comes to a funeral looking that hot?”
My words literally knocked her back, and she ripped her gaze away from me. It flew toward the door as she considered bolting through it.
But she didn’t.
She remained, taking in shallow breaths. “Jillian designed this for me, and it’s black, so I thought . . .”
“Don’t misunderstand, he’s the one who has a problem with it.” I didn’t intend for it to come out seductive, but old habits died hard. “I fucking don’t.”
For effect, I let my gaze sweep over her appreciatively. Her lips parted so she could pull in a sip of air, and color flashed across her cheeks. Heat stirred inside me, intensifying the craving for her.
Shit, I was already failing at thinking of Emery as nothing more than a partner.
“I didn’t want to talk to my father tonight. So, when I saw you, wearing that dress that he probably thinks is inappropriate, I saw an opportunity.”
She didn’t exactly like hearing that. “That’s it?”
“No.” I walked to the bar, set my hands on top, and leaned forward to look behind it. “I think your theory about Jillian has merit,” I snagged the top of the bottle I was looking for, “and I want to help you find out if it’s true.”
She watched me with suspicion as I pulled the pour spout out of the top of the premium vodka, and she lifted an eyebrow as I took a long swig straight from the bottle.
But rather than sound shocked, she was faintly amused. “That’s stealing.”
“They’re used to bottles going missing at these events, trust me.” It would have been easy to lock them away, yet they never did. Staff would probably bill Lambert three times what this bottle was worth, and I kind of enjoyed that idea. “You don’t really care, do you?” I teased. “You don’t seem like much of a rule follower.”
“Because I broke into Lambert’s safe?”
I held her gaze for a long moment. “And because you set the alarm off at my house.”
She didn’t even flinch. She barely blinked, and there was no denial in her eyes. Instead, she considered her response carefully. “I needed to talk to you, and that was my way in.”
I wasn’t as paranoid as my father, but I wasn’t stupid either and didn’t believe in coincidences. Since our lunch together, I’d suspected the faulty sensor in my room had been orchestrated.
“You took a huge risk doing it. I could have you fired.”
She didn’t look nervous. She laughed like I was being ridiculous. “Sovereign might slap me on the wrist, but they won’t fire me.”
“Oh?” What she’d done was a massive pain in the ass, and my family was powerful. We were used to getting our way. “Why’s that?”
Her smug smile was seriously hot. “Because I’m too fucking good.”
Surprise washed through me. Whatever expression I held, it made her feel like she needed to defend her statement, to argue her case. Her posture stiffened, and she put a hand on her hip.
“I’m a two-time Vegas Vault champion, the one people call when everyone else has failed. And I’m not talking about cheap hotel safes that any idiot with a magnet or an admin code can get into.” Her voice dripped with confidence. “I’m talking about banks. Embassies. The FBI.”
I stood utterly still in my fascination, the bottle of vodka in my hand ignored.
“So,” she continued, “I’m sorry I inconvenienced you and your staff by setting off the alarm a few times, but I’m not sorry for the outcome. Sometimes rules need to be bent to get what you need, and I’m okay with that.”
“Win at all costs,” I uttered.
“Yeah, I guess.”
I’d never been turned on so fast in my goddamn life. Every inch of this girl was sexy and intriguing, and it pumped desire in my veins. To stop myself from telling her as much, I took another sip of the vodka and focused on the subtle burn of the alcohol. It allowed me to reorganize my thoughts.
“Thank you for being honest,” I said. “If you’d lied to me, then I’d have to break up with you.”