Thief of Hearts
Page 35

Stu gripped the back of his neck, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve got a point there.”
“So fill us in,” Alfie urged.
Stu opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off. “Wait. Maybe we shouldn’t know any of that side of things,” I said, eyeing my cousin. “Plausible deniability, remember?”
Alfie’s expression sobered. He actually looked a little disappointed. “You’re right. As much as I’m dying to know the ins and outs of all this, we should keep ourselves in the dark as much as we can.”
Stu didn’t say anything. Instead his hazel eyes fell on me and I could feel the heat of it. A moment of awkwardness ensued and Alfie cleared his throat.
“Well, if you don’t mind I’m going to bed. This has been a tiring night.”
“Wait,” said Stu. He picked up the small backpack he carried in with him and handed it to Alfie. “This is from the Duke. There are pictures, film and a USB drive with three-hundred-and-sixty-degree photographs of the painting as it is now. He had one of his men break into the owner’s house to get it all so you can imitate the wear and tear that you can’t see in regular prints.”
“Well, wasn’t that kind of him,” said Alfie, eyeing me before continuing on to his bedroom. “It looks like I’ve got a painting to get started on.”
I could’ve cursed him for leaving me alone with Stu. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and not because I sensed danger. Well, at least not the kind that could cause physical harm. The fact of the matter was, I was embarrassed and annoyed, and quite frankly, royally pissed off. Stu’s gaze wandered over me again, his mouth almost tipping into a smile.
“Nice bathrobe.”
“Oh please, the jig is up now. You don’t have to keep pretending,” I huffed, folding my arms defensively.
One dark eyebrow rose. “Pretending?”
“You must think I’m an idiot,” I went on, my cheeks heating. I hated how attractive I still found him, sitting there with his tousled hair and effortless male beauty. He didn’t even have to try and quite frankly it was infuriating.
“Course I don’t. Why would I think that?”
“Because I fell for your act. I had no clue the only reason you were . . . you were in my class was to get to Alfie.”
“Andrea, of course you wouldn’t suspect me. It’s not like it’s the sort of thing that happens every day. I’m the one who’s at fault.”
I sat up straighter, folding my arms. “I’m well aware you’re at fault, and I want to hate you right now for dragging my cousin and me into all of this.” I wanted to, but I couldn’t, because at the core of his actions was a love for his family. I felt so torn.
Stu’s expression hardened. “It’s not like you’re not getting anything out of it. You’re getting a hundred grand. So don’t act like I’m the only one who benefits here.”
“Yes, well, why couldn’t you just be up front about it? There was absolutely no need for you to pose as a student and then pretend to like me. You could’ve simply approached me and told me your story. I’m not an unreasonable person. In fact, I’m probably more reasonable than most. I would’ve tried to assist if I could.”
At this he scoffed. “Like fuck you would. You’d have been straight on the phone to the coppers, so let’s not pretend otherwise.”
I didn’t reply, because deep down I suspected he was right. He let out a sound of irritation and stood. I levelled my hands on my hips and endeavoured to maintain a hard expression. I wouldn’t be a soft-hearted, gullible fool with him anymore.
His gaze was unwavering, but then he just shook his head, muttered something unintelligible to himself and then headed for the door.
Before he left he turned back around, giving me one last irritable glance. “You’ll be seeing me, Andrea.”
Then the door closed and he was gone.
“Well . . . shit,” I muttered to the empty room.
Thirteen

I woke up the next morning full of regret. This was due to the fact that I’d stayed up half the night polishing off that bottle of wine and looking through old photos of Mark and me. I used to be into keeping albums, but ever since he passed I’d barely taken any pictures. It was like that part of me died with him, the part that wanted to store precious memories. Some days I wished so hard for him to still be here, so hard that my entire body hurt. My throat felt like a lump of raw, abused meat and my stomach constantly ached.
Yesterday was one of those days, and it was the reason I arrived at work ten minutes late with a hangover and blotchy eyes from crying myself to sleep. Usually, if I could keep my mind focused on every day, practical things, I could avoid feeling this way. Unfortunately, yesterday and last night had been all kinds of crazytown and I lost the run of my emotions.
“You’re looking a little worse for wear, Miss Anderson,” Mary commented with a grin. “Late night, was it?”
I knew she meant well, thinking I’d been out enjoying myself. Little did she know, it had been a party of misery and loneliness for one. Plastering on a brave face, I replied kindly, “Something like that.”
Mary winked at me and I continued inside the classroom, stumbling and almost falling over my own feet when I saw Stu in his usual seat. He turned and caught me by the elbow, preventing my fall. His touch brought on the usual tingles and his eyes shone with concern but I was having none of it. What the hell was he even doing here? Now that his true intentions had been revealed, I didn’t think he’d continue attending class. And to think I’d introduced him to my dad for his insight.
I just didn’t see what he thought his being here was going to achieve. Perhaps he simply wanted to prolong my discomfort.
“I take it you all finished the final chapters of Jude last night?” I said, clearing my throat as I opened my laptop. I strongly suspected that Stu hadn’t read a single page, which was sort of the reason I’d said it. Maybe I was being mean-spirited, but I thought he deserved a little discomfort, too. Most of the class called out that they’d finished but Stu remained silent. I addressed him directly.
“Stu, I know you started late, but did you get a chance to fit the book into your busy schedule?”