‘You think you can buy me off?’
‘Why would I need to buy you off?’
‘Because you stole the painting.’
‘I haven’t said that I did. But neither can I have you running around making such accusations. It’s not exactly good for business,’ he sniffed, aiming for both nonchalant and irritating.
‘Which business? Art thief or hotelier?’
‘If I am guilty of your accusation, then both, I would assume.’
He could practically feel her frustration crashing against him like the tide. Good. Perhaps she’d be so incensed that she’d agree to his crazy proposition. Despite the fact that he was making this up on the spot, Sebastian had always been a goal-orientated quick thinker. This was what he was good at and what most people, who believed the carefully constructed careless playboy façade, took for granted. Thinking through the options, there was only one sure-fire way to know just how dangerous Sia Keating was.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
‘What if I gave you fourteen days?’ he asked.
‘Fourteen days of what?’
‘Unfettered access to my life. Twenty-four hours a day for fourteen days, and if—at the end of it—you have not found your proof then you give up. Walk away and never think of it again.’
‘Two weeks?’
‘You should consider yourself lucky. Two days is my usual tolerance for female company.’
‘I’m not your usual choice of female companion,’ she returned so quickly he had to suppress a smile.
‘I’m beginning to see that.’
‘And if I find proof? Find the painting?’
He smiled, dark and predatory. ‘If I am inept enough an art thief to leave either proof or painting lying around for you to find, then you are welcome to them.’
Sia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Not only did he clearly believe that she was incapable of doing what she’d said, he was also teasing her with every word. She fisted her hands so hard she knew she’d leave crescent marks in her palms. She wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong, prove him guilty.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew that she didn’t have the funds or the contacts to investigate him with the same depth as he was suggesting. But neither was she naïve enough to think it would be that easy.
‘What does this “access” entail?’ she asked cautiously.
‘You can accompany me wherever I go. You can be by my side for business meetings and events, breakfast, lunch and dinner if you wish.’
‘You said twenty-four hours a day...’ The question came out of her mouth before she’d had time to properly think it through.
‘You are more than welcome to join me for the nights, Ms Keating. My bed is big enough, I assure you.’
‘As is your ego, clearly,’ she bit out.
Rather than being bruised by the put-down, Sebastian seemed instead to relish it.
‘My properties are large enough. There are plenty of spare rooms. That is, if you don’t trust me not to do a midnight flit with the stolen painting.’
‘I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.’
‘Wise, Ms Keating, wise,’ he warned.
‘Which is precisely why I don’t believe that you would make it this easy for me. What is stopping you from simply lying your way out of this? What makes this better than me investigating on my own?’ she demanded.
He seemed to give the question, and her, some thought. His eyes assessed her once again—not the heated open perusal of before but more thoughtful, calculating—and it made her feel worthy.