And it was open.
“What are you doing?” Kyler rushed over and grabbed her backpack. “You went through it? It’s—”
“Empty,” he provided plainly.
Dante stretched an arm across the back of the divan and crossed his legs casually. He wore dark slacks, and his unbuttoned white shirt revealed hard abs. That she had licked only hours earlier.
“You had the egg last night before we came here,” he said. “I took note of the weight of the backpack.” He pointed toward the front door, and she spun to see that it was open a crack. “Someone’s been here.”
Clutching the empty backpack to her chest, Kyler squeezed her eyes shut tight, then turned toward him to unleash her anger. “You liar! You did this! How did you know? Were you following me? I remember you confessed to following me. Then you had sex with me to distract—” With a heavy gasp, she managed, “You used me?”
“Kyler, sit.” He patted the tufted cushion beside him. Entirely too calm, he infuriated her. But then he could afford to express casual disinterest. He now had the upper hand. “Raging at me is not going to solve the issue of the missing egg.”
“You bastard! Of course. You should know. You took it. But how did you know I had it? You had to have been following me far longer than the few blocks near the flower shop. And then to trick me into coming here with you...you had this all planned out!”
“I performed no such trickery. You’ll recall we shared a few drinks, and then it was you who eagerly suggested we finish off the evening here.”
“After your suggestion you were open to having sex with me.”
He lifted a finger. “A suggestion you took to with amorous enthusiasm.”
“You were scheming. Hoping to get me alone so you could steal the egg from me. I can’t believe I fell for that! I wanted a night to celebrate and have wild sex—”
He grinned deliciously. “It was a bit wild, wasn’t it, Kitten?”
“Aggh! Where did you put it?”
Dante spread his arms out in dismay. “I haven’t touched it. Though I admit I slipped down here while you were in the bathroom to do just that.”
“Steal it?”
He nodded. “Truth? I’d hoped to take it into my charge after you’d done all the hard work.”
Jaw dropping open, she gaped at him.
He shrugged. “I saw you yesterday afternoon in the auction house. Casing the place. I was there doing the same. Don’t get me wrong. I am not a thief. It’s simply my quest to acquire that specific Fabergé egg.”
She lifted a brow.
“Doesn’t require explanation.” He waved it off with a flick of his fingers. “It occurred to me that you’d probably strike the night before the auction, as I had intended. And I had the notion to see if you could manage the theft and bring the prize to me. Which you did. After following you from the auction house, I positioned myself at the bar, hoping you’d walk that way. It was a series of remarkable coincidences.”
“Bullshit.” She slammed the backpack on the floor, which didn’t produce as loud of a noise as she wished. Pacing the stone tiles, she ran her fingers through her hair. “What makes you believe someone stole it? We were awake all night. We would have heard a disturbance. No. I know you’re lying. This is another scheme. Make me believe someone broke in by leaving the door open a crack, and then when I’m gone you’ve got the egg all to yourself.”
“Just stop, Kyler. Stand still.”
She swung toward him. “Why?”
“Close your eyes.”
She shook her head in irritation and shook a fist at him.
A trace of the Casanova smile tickled his mouth. “Humor me?”
Why did the man have to be so pretty? She didn’t want to punch him; she wanted to hug him. And lick him. And allow him to touch her all the ways he’d done last night.
With a huff, she slammed her hands to her hips and closed her eyes.
“Now,” he said gently. “What do you smell?”
About to reply that she smelled a bastard, she inhaled deeply, vying for a modicum of calm. She had to figure this out, a way to deal with him, to bargain perhaps and get the egg back. As soon as she got the call to hand off the prize, she had to be ready. Or bye-bye eternity.
Wrinkling her nose, she took in the scents in the foyer. First being Dante’s after-sex warmth and musk. Mercy, could she have seconds? And thirds?
Focus, Kyler!
Beyond that annoyingly attractive scent lingered the dry coolness of the floor stones, and then—she opened her eyes. “Wet dog?”
“Exactly. It was raining hard earlier this morning. We were awake but were focused on one another. A delicious focus, I might add. Easy enough for a werewolf to break in and nab the item with the rain to muffle the noise.”
“A werewolf? Oh, please. Don’t you have security on this place?”
He nodded toward the door. “Just a simple lock with key access. An easy crack. I never keep anything of value here, and oftentimes in the winter months I’ll leave the place open, available for friends to use.”
“I cannot believe you are so lax with security!”
“Yes, well. I’m paying the price now, aren’t I?”
“How so? It was my nab! And there’s nothing you can say or do to change that. I did the work.” She thumped her fist on her chest in frustration. “I stole the egg. It’s mine.”
“Do you have it in your hands?”
She huffed at his need to state the obvious.
“Then it’s not yours, is it? Whoever holds it owns it. As I learned when it was originally stolen from me.”
“What?”
He waved a hand, dismissing the comment. “Doesn’t matter now. What does is that I’ve come to Venice to claim the Fabergé egg, and I won’t leave without it.”
“So you admit you used me—seduced me—to get what you wanted?”
He lifted a finger. “The sex was not my original intention. I had not planned to use intimacy to obtain the egg. That was a fortuitous bonus.”
“Liar. You took me home, knowing I had the egg on me. Then you fucked me and planned to steal it while I was sleeping or in the bathroom.”
“I
