“Not exactly,” I whispered, barely able to speak. “I didn’t ask Vance to watch me. My best guess is that Bea hired him to keep me in line. She probably thought I’d run away or screw it up.” I let out a short, sad laugh. “Turns out, she was right.”

He nodded. “That makes sense. The woman’s got a long record, with many entertaining tales, including some scams where you figure prominently. I was most impressed with your forgeries—my favorite was the Monet.”

Shocked, my mouth fell open even more. He actually knew about the theft of that Monet, which was pretty impressive, given that it had taken the museum a year to figure it out, and then they’d made a concerted effort to keep it quiet. Good thing I’d opted for the truth.

I looked up at him with a grin. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He was giving me that look again that I’d seen so often since we met. Those bedroom eyes, that incredible smile.

He knew so much about me, I figured he ought to get the full story. So I took a deep breath and let it out. “And by the way, Beatrix Kirkland isn’t my mother—I’ve never met my real parents. Bea is my foster mother, so she’s the closest I’ve ever had to a mother, even though she’s never acted like much of one.”

“Yes, I know about Bea. I’m surprised you’ve never met your birth parents.” He pointed to the folder in my hands, which I still hadn’t opened up. “I investigated that, too. Your birth mother’s name and address is in there somewhere. I think she lives in Ohio.”

As I suspected, Alejandro was the other person who had pulled the record of my birth parents. It seemed as if everyone but me knew about them, but I still wasn’t ready. Right now, I had more pressing things to think about. Like getting free of here. Like not going to prison. Like having sex with Alejandro, if I could believe that was an option. These things were more important than the parents who left me behind twenty-four years ago.

Suddenly, there was a clatter on the other side of the room. We turned to look as Karen burst out of a closet, unsteady as a drunk getting up from a barstool. She wore her usual skimpy outfit: an ultra-mini aqua skirt with black tights and a black blazer.




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