Page 4 of The Diamond Thief
He laughs again. “I like you.”
He won’t tomorrow, but that’s not a concern at the moment. I drop my tiny black clutch on a side table. “Are you a drinking man?”
“I am. I take it you’re a drinking girl?”
“You got a decent whiskey in there?” I flick my eyes over to the full bar occupying one corner of the room.
“I’m sure I can come up with something,” he says.
I follow him over. The man walks like he’s on the prowl, tense in the shoulders, his hands almost in fists at his side. I sense that if he felt the need, he could easily break me in two.
He makes me a little nervous, truth be told. Watching him knocks me a little off center, like maybe I have the wrong plan.
Stay the course, I tell myself.
He reaches for a crystal decanter filled with something amber and lifts a glass from the sidebar. “Neat? On the rocks?”
“Neat,” I say.
As he pours, I ask, “So what should I call you? The only thing Sylvester gave me was H.”
He passes me the glass. “Jacob. And you go by?” he asks.
He doesn’t even pretend I will give him my actual name.
“Jade.”
“I love the name Jade.”
“Thank you, Jacob,” I say, lifting the glass. I wait for him to pour one for himself. I like that he’s drinking what I am. We will taste like each other.
We clink our crystal together like a bride and groom at their wedding. “Cheers,” he says.
“Cheers.”
We sip at the same time, and his lips catch my attention. I swallow involuntarily at the sight of them and take in a bigger gulp than I intend. I cough lightly, trying to cover my gaffe. I don’t want him to think that I can’t handle my liquor.
“You all right?” he asks.
“Perfectly so.”
I glance around the room. My eye catches something sparkly, and I walk toward it. It’s a lighted case, backed in velvet. Resting inside on a simple black pedestal is a Scandinavian nuptial tiara. My knees feel weak just gazing on it.
“Like it?” Jacob asks.
I sip my drink to hide my awe. “It’s lovely.”
“Did you know some are broken down into broaches and worn casually?”
“Are they?” God. That’s like Royal Jewels 101. But I can’t let on.
He comes up beside me. “When governments fall, the crown jewels are often sold at auction.”
“Like the Romanovs.” I can’t help myself.
His eyebrow kicks up. “Yes, like that.”
He watches me a moment, then holds out his hand.
