Page 10 of Undercover Star
"That will do very well, thank you."
Josh's conciliatory tone did nothing for Matisse's temper, but he wouldn't show Josh up in front of the old cow. Marissa had taught him to keep disagreements out of the public eye, and while he was quietly seething, he clung to the lesson.
"It's this way," he said, directing Josh to one of the staircases and ignoring their unwilling hostess.
"She does rub you the wrong way, doesn't she?" Josh observed when they were out of earshot. "Good call asking your manager along."
"Marissa handles all my contracts. I don't attend the opening of an envelope without her say-so." Josh chuckled, and the sound charmed Matisse out of his grumpy mood. "What do you want to look at?"
"The jewellery displays and the curio cabinets. And I need to understand which rooms are open, and where you'll be. Oats said this place is safe enough, but that I need to be prepared to run interference. Can you explain what he meant by that?"
"My security team gets me out of situations I don't want to be in," Matisse explained while he led them up the stairs and through the exhibition rooms. "You know, overzealous fans, scouts, speculators, or reporters. When someone drives me nuts, they come rescue me."
"Would you like me to do that for you while you're here?"
"You'll be busy."
"Matisse."
Josh's footfalls stopped, and after a moment Matisse gave in and turned. "What?"
"I appreciate what you're doing. Getting me in here, giving me a chance to be on the spot. Since you're sacrificing your security team so I can be here, the least I can do is... what they do."
Matisse nodded. This wasn't what he'd expected to hear, but if Josh was proposing to help, he wouldn't say no. Having a distraction at hand if he needed it would go a long way to make the event less of a chore he dreaded.
"Here's the jewellery room."
"Thank God."
"What?"
"They didn't rearrange."
"What?"
"I've only been in here once before. I have no idea how often they dust and rearrange the furniture. I was worried—" He broke off and leaned over the nearest cabinet.
Matisse wandered the room. A seascape hung on the far wall: a large canvas of a brig battling a storm, main and topsail tattered and foremast bare. As every time he'd been here, he settled in front of it and imagined the roar of the wind and the lash of the rain until he could feel the boards heave and pitch under his feet. Imagining himself elsewhere, until his mind believed it, had gotten him out of many a stressful situation over the years.
"We need to keep an eye on these display cases."
Josh's deep voice drew him from his contemplation of the storm. "Why?"
"See these black ornaments? They are jet cameos."
Matisse joined Josh and peered into the cabinet. Carved jet pendants and brooches took up the left side of the display. A casket, intricately carved from jet and inlaid with some red material, sat on the right. Between the trinkets lay a metal cross—brooch maybe, or pendant—with a square-cut green stone at its centre. Nothing was labelled, and Matisse, who liked to know what he was looking at, sighed in defeat. "Are they valuable?"
"Not to you, Rock Star. To a collector, on the other hand...."
"How many times... I don't fucking do rock!" Matisse breathed. No point getting agitated. It wasn't as if the Neanderthal cared about his feelings, however considerate he sounded at times. Matisse focused on the curio cabinet, the raft of small items, and the simple lock. "If the things are valuable enough to attract a thief, they should secure them properly. You can open this with a hairpin."
"Bullshit."
"Not." Matisse pulled a pin from his boot and stuck it in the lock of the display case. Moments later, the lock clicked.
Then sirens started blaring.
The property manager turned up a second later, and Matisse waved airily. "Sorry 'bout that. I'm showing off your security, so Josh here won't worry so much."
