Page 6 of Filthy Little Lies

Maybe isn’t a yes, but I can’t be delayed any longer.

“My name is Stephania Sloane, and I really did get the papers from my grandmother.” I swallow. “I swear it.”

His eyes narrow at the edges.

“Car’s out back.” Bob pops his head in.

“Good.” He hands me my bag, and a whoosh of air fills my lungs. “Take her. Roman will be waiting for you.”

“What? Wait. No!” I turn on my heel and dart for the door. Which is locked, but in my panic I’d forgotten.

Hands are on me next, and I kick out. Doesn’t do me any good. I’m spun around and hoisted up in the air, dropped over a huge shoulder.

“No! Stop! Please!” I kick and swing my hands. My fist makes contact with the concrete God used to build him.

I’m carried through the back of the shop, then through another door into the soft glow of the setting sun.

Then I’m dumped into a trunk, and as I scramble to get my bearings and jump free, I see his face. The unmovable fierceness makes me shrink back.

“Sit tight. It’s a short ride.” He slams the trunk, casting me into darkness.

CHAPTER 3

Gabriel

Pain throbs behind my left eye when I pull into my garage. It’s past ten. Hours past when I’d planned to be home.

My brother, Roman, has kept me up to date on my guest’s activities.

When I’d seen her at the shop, I’d taken her for just another customer pawning family heirlooms.

I actually make a good amount of money off of people’s dead relatives. But when I’d gone into the back office and turned on the security feed, I’d noticed something else.

Her fingers rubbed together while Bob was looking over the diamonds he had laid out on the mat. Every few seconds her gaze flickered to the clock on the wall behind him. It was a subconscious movement.

While on the outside she appeared calm, she was electrified with nerves on the inside. In my line of work, reading people is an acquired and necessary skill.

She was nervous. Maybe even a little scared.

And gorgeous. She might have been trying to hide her body with the oversized sweatshirt and jeans, but it didn’t work. Especially when she tugged on the hem of her sweatshirt, pulling it taut against her chest.

But it wasn’t her curves that captured my attention. The softness of her smile, the tiny dimple on the left side of her cheek, like the heavens themselves pressed a fingertip into her cheek.

I’m surrounded by beautiful women daily. Gorgeous women who have had every medical advantage to mold themselves into the perfect feminine specimen. But she had something all of those women lacked.

Natural beauty. The woman on the screen wasn’t trying to impress anyone. No layers of makeup, fake eyelashes, and painted lips. She was just herself, and she was stunning.

When Bob had brought the pouch of diamonds and the certificates back to me, I’d been ready to demand he let me handle the rest of the sale. But after he showed me the documents, my lust melted into boiling rage.

I was being scammed.

He’d been smart enough to notice the small emblem on the corner of the appraisal certificate was askew. Meaning it was affixed after the certificate was printed, and not during the printing process. It was only off by a few degrees, but he’d caught it.

And then she’d had the balls to lie to me. Three times! Straight to my face. The woman had no idea how lucky she was to still have her tongue in that pretty head of hers.

“You’re back,” Roman sighs, relieved when I step into the kitchen. He’s sitting at the island with an open bottle of beer.

“Everything all right?” I eye the bottle.