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I should be stealing something shiny…
But instead of doing what she loved, Celeste St. Pierre was busy running an antique furniture store in Manhattan. She glanced from the eighteenth century Austrian grandfather clock to her assistant, Beatrice Hill, trying to catch the young woman’s eye. They were hoping to close in the next five minutes, but two shoppers still perused the Chippendale bookshelves.
From what Celeste gathered, a husband and wife. He looked deeply uninterested in the shopping trip while she went on and on about the decorative wood carvings. Both appeared wealthy enough to afford several Chippendale pieces, so Celeste didn’t want to shove them out the door too quickly.
“Well, if you like it so much, just go for it,” the husband said, testily. His white mustache gave an agitated twitch as he surveyed the rest of the store. He, too, checked the time.
His wife could not be rushed into a decision. She pulled a pair of reading glasses from her black Chanel bag and peered at the shelves’ description. “I just wonder if it will fit the upstairs study…”
Celeste had to intervene. If she couldn’t get these customers moving, she and Beatrice wouldn’t have enough time to go downstairs to their command center and prep for this evening’s job. One way or another, she planned on attending Victor Sanderson’s emerald reveal party. And while people were distracted by the treasure he discovered in the jungles of Colombia, she’d be in his study stealing a rare kokoshnik tiara.
“I see you’re very interested in our Chippendale piece,” she said, leaving the front counter. “You have a good eye.”
The wife smiled brightly, stepping away from her husband. “My grandmother had something similar. A beautiful mahogany shelf that she used in her library. I used to spend hours in there reading and writing.”
Celeste’s softened as she listened to the older woman. “So, you’re already familiar with the style. I acquired this piece from Westland London about two years ago and you’re the first person who’s given it the attention it deserves.”
The woman beamed, proud to know she had taste. “Is this also mahogany?”
“I’m afraid this is made from walnut. It’s just as sturdy, though, and it has the same rococo embellishments you’d normally find of the time. Dare I say the upkeep is slightly easier.”
“Do you have cleaning instructions?” the woman asked. “I’d hate to ruin something so lovely with carelessness.”
“Of course,” Celeste said with a smile. “My associate, Beatrice, can help you with those details, plus measurements and delivery. We can schedule a time to work with you at your earliest convenience.”
“Agnes, if we don’t leave now, we’ll be late for the show,” her husband interrupted.
“Hold your horses,” Agnes said, waving a dismissive hand. When she turned back to Celeste, she rolled her eyes. “After forty-seven years, he should know better than to rush me.”
“Do what you want. I’ll be outside,” her husband groused as he moved toward the exit.
Agnes waved her hand dismissively. “I’ll take the shelf, my dear. Would you like me to pay now or after we talk details?”
At the sound of payment, Beatrice immediately got to typing. She would search for the certificate of authenticity and the necessary paperwork for measurements and delivery consultation.
It never ceased to amaze Celeste how quickly rich people spent money on a whim. The bookshelves were at least seventy thousand dollars, and Agnes was ready to pick it up because of nostalgia.
They got her squared away, made a follow-up appointment for a future delivery and sent her on her way faster than Celeste thought was possible. Once her customers were out the door, Beatrice quickly ran through the store and flipped the sign and locked the door.
“Are you ready?” she asked, dimming the showroom lights.
“Been ready,” Celeste replied with a sigh. “Walk me through the plan again.”
Together, they disappeared into the back office, closing another door behind them. The command center was safely hidden in the basement of their business. To reach it, Celeste needed to slide back a shelving unit in her office to reveal a secret stairwell.
As they jogged downstairs, Beatrice recited the plot for tonight’s festivities. “The invitation list is about thirty-six associates. I’ve been surveilling the building and no new cameras have been installed since we delivered there three months ago. Just the elevator and balcony. While people are milling around the living room, dining room and kitchen, you’ll need to get to the west wing of the penthouse where his study is.”
“Yep,” she said, flipping on the fluorescent lights of the basement revealing computers, camera monitors and walls that were lined with weaponry, tools, and disguises. In the corner of the large space was a small gym where she kept fit with strength training and yoga. In her line of work, Celeste needed to be flexible enough to get into tight spaces and strong enough to fight her way out of them.
She walked behind a dressing partition and quickly disrobed. Tonight’s gown was recently back from the dry cleaners and waiting on her. Beside it, a replica of the crown she planned to steal that evening.
“A Protex safe is located behind the oil painting of a generic hunting scene. I don’t know what the four-digit code is, so you need to take your setting powder and brush for fingerprints. Although, I have a feeling it’s his birthday,” Beatrice said with a chuckle. “I’d bet the rest of my student loan repayment.”
Celeste laughed. “I know that’s right.”
“Switch the real crown with the replica, wipe everything down and get the fuck outta there.”
“Not immediately,” Celeste said, letting the black silk gown cascade down her body. She adjusted her breasts and checked the height of the slit at her thigh. Scandalously high. “Leaving before Victor has revealed the emerald will look suspicious.”
“If you say so…”
“I do. He invited Celeste St. Pierre, the antiquities dealer, not CeCe, the smash ‘n grabber. I need to continue mingling with these rich white folks to make up for my six-minute absence from the party just in case the balcony footage catches anything.” She stepped out from behind the dressing screen. “How do I look?”
Beatrice spun around in her desk chair. Her dark brown eyes widened until her brows reached her hairline. “Hot. Very hot. Maybe a little too hot?”
Celeste checked herself out in the gym mirrors. Yeah, maybe. But she didn’t mind the attention. She grabbed the replica crown and fitted it over her short-cropped curls. “Can you help me with the head wrap?”
“Got it.”
She sat down so that Beatrice could hide the crown with a black scarf. Her assistant jerked her head forward and then tugged it back as she wrapped tightly. Celeste hadn’t felt this kind of discomfort since she was a little girl, sitting between her Granny Jo’s knees, getting a comb yanked through her tender head. She feared that if she moved just a little, Beatrice would also pop her with a comb. “Damn, Bea, do you think it’s tight enough? I’m gonna get a headache before I arrive.”
“I don’t want anything unraveling while you’re there.”
“You worry too much,” Celeste gently chided.
“And you don’t worry enough,” Beatrice said, tucking the last bit of scarf at the nape of Celeste’s neck. “Your car should be here in thirty minutes. Are you ready to go steal something shiny?”
Celeste gazed confidently into the mirror. “Ready, sis.”
“We’ve got three adjuncts who can take on some of the Intro to Earth Sciences.”
“How many classes?”
Papers shuffle. “Well, okay, it looks like it’s just two.”
“Check to see who’s worked this semester. We’ll distribute based on that.”
“Do we know who has a preference? I heard Nicole has something lined up with Pace.”
“Eh…put out some feelers. Do we know anything about the others?”
“Magnus? You’ve worked with Dave. Does he have any other prospects? Magnus?”
Magnus Larsson blinked out of his stupor and looked up at his colleagues. Around the long table, six professors stared at him as though he’d grown a second head. “I’m sorry, what?”
Dr. Robert Harding squinted at him in that weird Bob way he always did. Like his whole face scrunched up and his mouth puckered beneath his bushy beard. “Dave Jessops. Do you know if he needs classes for the fall?”
Magnus didn’t know Dave from Adam. He only used the same classroom after the guy, but never really talked to him.
He assumed that he was like any other poor adjunct running from one institution to another just to keep up their hours. “I couldn’t tell you, Bob. As the department chair, you might have to ask Dave himself?”
Robert squinted so hard that his face seemed to suck itself in.
Magnus looked down at his watch. It was already 5:30 p.m. He absolutely did not have time for this. Victor Sanderson was throwing a party tonight and Magnus had every intention to steal a Romanov crown hidden in the man’s penthouse. Through whispering back channels, Magnus had monitored the movement of the piece and followed it to Sanderson nearly a year ago. He’d waited for the perfect opportunity to hit the man’s home.
The emerald reveal was the perfect opportunity. Or as perfect as it was going to get for a man in his position. He worked alone now. And without a decent crew, Magnus had to stick with small jobs with small payouts. This job was supposed to be different. Reward would outweigh the risk, considering the amount of resources and effort he’d put into it.
This meeting…his colleagues. None of it mattered to Magnus.
Another day, he’d be happy to keep up the front of being a geology professor. But today, he was aching to stretch his legs and run like he had when he was younger.
“You know what, Bob?” he said, standing from his seat. “I’ve got a prior engagement that I need to see to. If you all will excuse me.” He didn’t wait on anyone to excuse him. He gathered his leather satchel and backed out of the room with a wave. “Take it easy, guys.”
There was a spring in his step as he exited the room and eventually Newton University. When the golden sun hit his face, he perked up. He had about two hours to get back to his condo, change and get a car to a party located on the Upper West Side. There was a safe in Victor Sanderson’s penthouse with his name on it. Inside that safe was a royal family crown that he needed.
As he crossed the street to the nearest subway station, he couldn’t help but remember the crew he used to run with. His crew leader, Dr. Doris Grant, was an art historian with a flair for drama and a wicked sense of humor. She invited him to steal with her team about a decade ago.
Magnus fell back on his contingency plan because he couldn’t play well with others. He split from the crew after a job had gone bad. Real bad. Dr. Grant couldn’t convince him to stay once he failed in Stockholm. He’d failed to secure the bag and he’d failed to make his partner see reason and come away with him. He had come very close to confessing his feelings to her. But shit fell apart too fast for him to take that final step.
That was about five years ago.
Since then, Magnus learned how to work alone. He studied what jobs he could pull off on weekends and during holiday breaks. But things had slowed down considerably without his old crew. He needed this. He needed to feel alive again. It had been too long…
Excerpted from Jewel Me Twice by Charish Reid. Copyright © 2024 by Charish Reid. Published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
JEWEL ME TWICE by Charish Reid
Love can catch you red-handed.
He was her partner—both in crime and between the sheets. It’s been five years since professional thief Celeste St. Pierre laid eyes on Magnus Larsson. These days, she runs a Manhattan antique store, but her talent for stealing beautiful, shiny things hasn’t faded. And as a chance reunion over a locked safe proves, neither has the heat between her and the gorgeous, ice-cool Magnus.
For Magnus, only one thing beats the thrill of getting away with robbery—and that’s the woman he’s tried hard to forget. Their last job together ended in disaster. But if they’re going to honor their mentor’s last wishes to pull off the theft of the century, they’ll have to temporarily put their grudges behind them.
Crisscrossing Europe on a real-life treasure hunt, Celeste and Magnus quickly rediscover how well they work together. The higher the stakes, the hotter the sexual tension. But one slipup and it won’t be only jewels on the line, but a future that, just maybe, has been the ultimate prize all along…
Romance Comedy [Canary Street Press, On Sale: July 23, 2024, Trade Paperback / e-Book, ISBN: 9781335009463 / eISBN: 9780369748133]
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About Charish Reid
Charish Reid is a fan of sexy books and disaster films. When she’s not grading papers or prepping lessons for college freshmen, she enjoys writing romances that celebrate quirky black women who deserve HEAs. Charish currently lives in Sweden, with her husband, avoiding most forms of exercise.
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