We both freeze.

“I thought you said we’d be safe here!” I whisper. “What if it’s the police? What if someone saw you – saw us!”

St. Clair moves swiftly to the window and looks down. “It’s Lennox,” he reports. “And it appears he’s brought the whole bloody police force with him.”

My heart actually stops for a second before it starts pounding, pumping blood with Niagara-falls force through my veins. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

St. Clair moves over to me and takes my hands. “Grace? Grace, look at me.” All I can think is that I’m going to jail. I’m going to die in prison because I was bamboozled by a beautiful face and a hot ass.

“How could you do this to me?” I say.

“I’ll explain everything later,” he says calmly. “But for now, I need you to cover for me with Lennox. Can you do that, Grace?”

I’m having trouble breathing and my heart is roaring in my ears. The doorbell rings again and someone pounds loudly on the door. I jump.

“Grace?” St. Clair says again. There’s no time to think, no time to weigh the consequences. “Please, trust me,” he whispers. “I promise it will all be okay.”

I nod. Even after everything, I want to believe him.

CHAPTER 2

The doorbell doesn’t let up. St. Clair strips off his coat and the clothing underneath, until he’s just wearing boxer briefs. He pulls on a bathrobe.

“Get undressed,” he tells me, and tosses over another robe. “We’ve been here all night, in bed, together, okay?”

I stand, frozen, still in a panic.

“Grace?” St. Clair comes closer. He cups my cheek with his hand, so gentle, and looks into my eyes. “This is important. I know you’re scared, but we have to be clear on our alibi. We’ve been together all night. Right here, at home. Can you do this?”

From the hammering on the door and the flashing police lights outside, it’s obvious I don’t have a choice.

“Yes,” I answer, my voice coming out stronger than I feel.

“That’s my girl.” St. Clair kisses my forehead, then hurries out, down the stairs.

I hear him open the door. “What’s going on?” St. Clair’s voice echoes up. “Agent Lennox, how can I help you?”

I’m impressed, even in my panic. St. Clair sounds sleepy and confused, like he was fast asleep when the commotion started, and not fresh from a major heist.

“I need to ask you some questions,” Lennox demands, his voice gruff.

“Of course,” St. Clair agrees. “But can’t it wait until morning?”

Lennox snorts. “It is morning.”

“I meant, when the sun is up. A more civilized hour?”

“We can do this now, or you can come with me to the station.” Lennox sounds unmoved.

My heart stops. If Lennox is threatening to take him in, he must have something. Evidence. Oh God.

“Of course, come in.” St. Clair finally says. I cringe.

I slip out of the bedroom and creep to the top of the stairs so I can hear better over my pounding heart. I peek over the landing and see Lennox step inside. He gestures for the other police officers to follow, but St. Clair casually blocks their path.

“Just you,” St. Clair says calmly. “That is, unless you have a search warrant?”

There’s a pause, and then I see Lennox scowl. “Wait outside, lads,” he says.

St. Clair closes the door behind them, and asks more casually than I could have managed, “Can I get you a tea? Coffee?” St Clair yawns, tightening the belt on his robe. “Sorry, I’m still half-asleep.”

The alibi. Right. I quickly duck back to the bedroom and strip off my black jeans and sweatshirt. I remember to kick them under the bed before pulling on a fancy negligee nightgown. I picked it out for St. Clair, and it makes me feel ill to think of using it now as part of this big performance. But I don’t have any other choice.

St. Clair said to trust him. Am I foolish to give him one last chance?

Not foolish, I correct myself. This is self-preservation. If Lennox busts St. Clair tonight, then I’m caught in the crosshairs too. And Lennox has made it clear, he’ll be happy to take me down too if it even looks like I’ve played any part in St. Clair’s illegal dealings.

For my own sake, I have to make sure this alibi sticks.

By the time I get back to the top of the stairs, the men are further down the hallway, out of earshot. I slowly creep down the steps until I hear Lennox’s voice again. They’re in the kitchen.

“So, how about you tell me where you’ve been tonight?” Lennox says.

“Any reason in particular, or do you just love keeping tabs on me?” St. Clair is smooth, but I’m beginning to shake. Lennox’s visit can’t be a coincidence, not when it’s coming so soon after the gallery theft.

What if there’s security camera footage showing St. Clair at the scene – or both of us? No alibi in the world would get us out of that one.

“Call me curious.” Lennox smiles without pleasure. “You lead such a jet-setting life, it’s hard to keep track.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but there’s been no jet-setting tonight,” St. Clair says as he casually pours water from the kettle into two mugs. “I attended an art gala at the London College of Art earlier, and then returned home.”

“Can anyone verify that?”

St. Clair smiles. “Oh, about two hundred guests, and the college trustees. A handful of journalists, too. I think there might even be footage on YouTube of my speech. Not one of my best,” he adds, “But it seemed to do the trick.”

Lennox scowls. “I meant verification that you were here at home the rest of the night.”

“My mistake.” St. Clair gives him another charming smile. “Yes, my girlfriend will attest to my location, won’t you, Grace?”

He glances past Lennox, meeting my eyes in the hallway.

I jump, then swallow the strangled sound I want to make and instead force my voice to come out as steadily as possible. “What’s going on, Charles? It’s so early.”

I wrap my robe tighter and attempt a fake yawn like St. Clair did. I look at Lennox and try to act surprised. “Agent Lennox, is everything alright?”

“That depends.” Lennox’s stare seems to look right through me. “Where have you been tonight?”

“Where? Here, of course.” Easy. Done. Except my whole body is sweating under my robe. Thank God he can’t see. What is the penalty for lying to the police?

“You didn’t attend an art party?”

Crap! “Oh. I did. I meant, after that.”

“Tea, sweetheart?” St. Clair interrupts, holding out a mug. Lennox scowls, so I take it, then immediately regret the move. My hands are shaking so much, I have to grip the mug tightly to hide my nerves. “It’s chamomile,” St. Clair adds, “To help relax you after this rude interruption.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, taking a hot sip.

Lennox clears his throat, impatient. “You were here all night?”

“Yes.” My voice is steadier now. “What’s all this about?”

Lennox doesn’t answer. “And Mr. St. Clair was with you all night?”

“Of course. We were in bed.”

“How can you be sure of where he was while you were asleep?” he shoots back.

“I, uh…” My mind goes blank, but St. Clair doesn’t miss a beat. He chuckles, and slips his arm around me.

“Now, now, Agent Lennox. Since when did I say we were sleeping?”

My cheeks flush, but at least it makes Lennox look uncomfortable for a beat. “Charles!” I whisper, not even pretending to be embarrassed.

“Oh, don’t be shy.” He kisses my cheek. “Agent Lennox here is a stickler for the details. So, I can assure him, we didn’t leave each other’s sight. All night. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

This, at least, isn’t a lie. Technically, St. Clair didn’t leave my sight – I followed him from the house. “That’s right,” I tell Lennox firmly. “I’ve been with him since the party. Well, except for like two minutes when I went to the bathroom.”

Lennox eyes me for an uncomfortably long time and I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my back. “You’re sure?”