last one had to be a model. Kitty’s heart puckered. It was weird to have all these other women here, all relaxed and happy and looking as if they belonged, when she no longer did.
Stopping to look had been a mistake.
She skirted the back of the room to confidently—but not too quickly—walk up the stairs. She kept her head high, her shoulders back and sent a glimmer of a smile to the person she saw along the hallway glancing up after her.
Faking it. Making it.
The volume of the music lowered the higher up the stairs she went. By the time she got to the second floor it had become bearable background noise. There was no one in sight up here—the entire house had yet to be taken over by pumped-up party people. She’d timed her arrival just right—enough people were present for her to disappear into, but it wasn’t yet wild enough for them to be everywhere.
Despite the disappointment of seeing the stripped out interior below, she couldn’t resist pausing by the master bedroom. The door was open—inviting her—but when she peered carefully around it, she found she couldn’t step into the room. It was stuffed with boxes and furniture. So this was where everything from downstairs had been shoved. Her heart ached more and she quickly stepped along the hallway. Unfortunately, the library door was closed. She hovered a moment to listen, but heard nothing coming from within the room. Nervously, she turned the handle. To her relief it was dark inside and apparently unoccupied. She knew that if she left the door open, enough light would spill from the corridor for her to find her way. She smiled in anticipation as she lightly tiptoed to the shelves lining the farthest wall. This house had several secrets that the new owner would never know about—her father wouldn’t have thought to tell him any of it. Sure, the pleasure she felt at having knowledge over Alejandro Martinez was childish, but the way he’d waltzed in and snatched away her home made her smart.
On the fifth shelf up, behind the fourth book along from the left, there was a small lever. She depressed it and listened to the scratchy whirring sound as a small cavity opened up. She didn’t need to take the other books out; it was only a tiny safe—only large enough for a pile of notes written by bored children, or a coil of diamonds in a platinum setting left there by her forgetful, beloved, fool of a brother.
Kitty scooped them up, relief washing through her. She’d half expected them not to be there—Teddy’s recollections weren’t always accurate. But they were hers again and she could get them back to where they belonged. She’d hated the thought of letting Margot down—even though Margot was only alive in memory now.
Swallowing hard, she straightened the chain and put it around her neck, angling her head as she secured the clasp and then ran her finger along her throat to ensure the choker was sitting smoothly. The cold heaviness was familiar and made her heart ache all over again.
These were the only diamonds Margot had ever worn. She’d bought them for herself, by herself. She’d declared that she needed no man to buy her jewels and had lived her life in defiant independence, refusing to settle into any kind of expectation—ahead of her time and leaving Kitty in awe.
She wished the choker could be hers for good, but it was Teddy’s birthright and he’d given up everything else already. Kitty had nothing to lose.
She released her hair from the high topknot she’d coiled it into while on the train. To leave looking different from how she’d arrived was part of the plan and her hair served another purpose now—it mostly hid the gleaming necklace. She pushed the lever again and the compartment slid shut.
Phase three: complete.
Satisfied, she turned, ready to leave.
That was when she saw it—the man’s silhouette looming in the doorway. She froze. With the lack of light she couldn’t see his face, but she could see he held a phone in his hand. And she could see how tall he was. How broad. How impossible to slip past.
‘Hello?’ She wished she didn’t sound so scared.
She wished he’d answer.
Her heart took two seconds to start pumping again and when it did her pulse thumped loudly in her ears. She hadn’t heard him arrive. The floor in the library was wooden and she’d been certain she’d have heard approaching footsteps. But apparently this guy could enable stealth mode. Was he Security? How long had he been watching her? Had he seen what she’d done?
Apprehension fluttered in her belly.
‘She wasn’t wearing a necklace when she arrived,’ he slowly mused. Softly. Dangerously. ‘Yet she wears one now.’
She froze at that accented English, at that tone. She was definitely in trouble.
‘If you’d get your boss for me, I can explain,’ she bluffed haughtily.
‘My name is Alejandro Martinez,’ he replied, still in those soft, dangerous tones that made her skin prickle. ‘I am the boss.’
It was the devil himself. Of course. Kitty’s heart thundered.
He reached out a hand, casually closing the door. There was a split second of total darkness before he unerringly turned on the light.
Kitty rapidly blinked at the brightness. By the time the dancing spots cleared from her vision, he was less than a foot from her, his phone gone and his hands free.
She swallowed.
He was very close and very tall. She wasn’t short yet she had to tip her chin to look into his face. His hair was dark brown and thick and he was so good-looking, he ought to have been outlawed as hazardous to any woman’s attention span. Yes, Alejandro Martinez was fiendishly handsome with that olive skin, those chiselled features and those serious, assessing eyes.
Nervously, she flicked her hair in the hopes it would curl around her throat. She wasn’t getting past him in a hurry; there was only one exit out of this library and he’d closed the door.
‘No, there’s no point trying to hide it now,’ he mocked softly, but his eyes glittered like polished onyx. He slowly lifted a lock of her hair back with a lazy, arrogant finger. His penetrating gaze lingered on her neck, then raked down her body—her breasts, her waist, her legs. Every inch of her felt grazed.
‘A diamond collar for a lithe little cat burglar,’ he said. ‘How appropriate.’
To her horror, her body reacted to his unabashed sensual assessment of her and to his low accented tone. Her skin tightened. Heat flooded her cheeks, her lower belly and she fought the instinct to take a squirming step back.
Alejandro Martinez was so not her cup of tea. Too obvious. Too forceful. Too...everything.
‘A ginger she-cat,’ he added thoughtfully, his focus lifting to her face. ‘Rather rare.’
She bristled. She’d always hated her hair. She’d gone through a phase when she’d dyed it darker, only that had made her almost see-through skin and squillions of freckles look worse. In the end she’d given up and gone back to natural and faced the fact she was never going to be a ‘beauty’.
‘You know about the bookcase?’ she asked, trying to take control of the situation—of herself—and draw attention away from this awareness. But her voice sounded husky and uncertain. She had to get herself and the necklace out of here as fast as possible.
‘I do now. What other secrets do you know about this house?’ His gaze seemed to penetrate right through her. ‘What else are you planning to steal?’
A hot streak of stubbornness shot through her. She wasn’t going to tell him anything—not about the house, not about herself, not about the necklace.
So she just stared up at him silently, waiting for him to make his next move.
His expression hardened. ‘Give me the necklace,’ he said firmly.
She shook her head. ‘Possession is nine-tenths of the law,’ she muttered.
‘Possession?’ He suddenly looked even more