I stepped out and almost immediately ran into an FBI agent.
"What a coincidence," he said with obvious pleasure.
I looked around. He wasn't alone. Several other agents were already inside and had taken positions at the exits.
"Good afternoon," I said evenly, holding the panic in check. "Can I help you with something?"
He stepped forward, blocking my path. He had no intention of letting me go.
"Don't you find it strange," he continued, "that just before we were authorized to open Theron's safe deposit box, you appear here?"
His gaze hardened. His voice turned cold.
"I'm here as an assistant. Nothing more," I said and tried to go around him.
He shifted sideways, blocking me again.
"Miss Mirey Ellis. You're playing a dangerous game," he said quietly. "This is my last offer of cooperation. Otherwise, you'll go down with him."
This was no longer a hint. It was a threat.
Ostin saved me. He came out of the room together with Mark.
"Did I hear you correctly," Ostin said, "are you trying to intimidate my assistant right now?"
His voice was no longer friendly.
"Oh, come now," the agent smiled. "I'm merely outlining possible versions of the future."
His smugness got under my skin. Few people knew how to irritate me so quickly. He managed it without even raising his voice.
"Don't you find it strange," he continued, stepping closer to Ostin, "that you showed up exactly at the time we had scheduled? Not earlier. Not later."
He pointed at the restroom door. Two female agents went inside.
A pause hung between Ostin and the agent. Looks. Tension.
Mark stood aside and clearly didn't understand what was going on.
"Excuse me," he spoke up, "but what exactly is the problem?"
Through his glasses he tried to make out the people around him.
"We have a warrant for one of Mr. Theron's safe deposit boxes," the agent replied, shifting his attention to him. "And it just so happens that today you were examining it."
"Yes," Mark said calmly. "We were studying a replica of one of the lost works of art. Quite a high-quality one."
He looked around. "I didn't think the FBI would be interested in that."
He adjusted his glasses, reading the document in the agent's hand.
At that moment the two women came out of the restroom. They exchanged brief looks with the agent and shook their heads in the negative.
"A replica?" He shook his head. "How interesting. We'll sort that out during an expert examination."
"It's very strange that the FBI spends time on this," Mark muttered.
He was irritated by this man too. Apparently, not just me.
"But before you leave, would you allow us to search you?" the agent said now with evident satisfaction.
"Do you have a warrant for that as well?" Ostin objected calmly.
"Do you have something to hide?" the agent kept pressing.
"Are you out of your mind?" Mark exploded. "Just try it. I have a very good lawyer. You'll be sued so hard your superiors will get tired of paying."
He headed for the exit, but his way was blocked.
"Wonderful," Mark took out his phone and started dialing his lawyer.
Ostin immediately came up to him and spoke more softly:
"Wait. Don't get heated. I think nothing terrible will happen if we show our bags and pockets. We have nothing to lose."
I noticed how the agent tensed. He understood he was going too far. Without cause. Without evidence. This could turn against him.
Ostin handed over his bag first. They found the documents on the replica and began whispering among themselves. They checked his pockets.
Mark, grinding his teeth, also allowed them to inspect his briefcase and clothes.
Then they came to me.
I looked at them coldly. Too calmly for someone who had something to lose.
I took off my blazer, handed it over, and turned out the pockets of my trousers. He checked thoroughly, but found nothing. I didn't avert my gaze.
"So what exactly are you looking for?" Mark finally asked, taking back his things.
"The original worth one hundred million dollars," the agent said, without taking his eyes off me. "Which, according to our information, Theron stole."
A pause.
"Looks like it's not here."
He stepped closer and returned my blazer.
"Can we go?" Ostin asked. "You got everything you wanted."
"Yes. Of course. But I'll be in touch," he clearly wasn't going to back off.
We went out into the reception area, put on our coats, and headed for the exit. Already by the doors he called out to us again.
"One moment."
He came up to me. Stopped too close.
My heart was beating fast, but my face remained empty. Years of pretending hadn't been wasted.
"May I?" he asked.
I nodded.
He reached into one pocket of my coat, then the other. Only loose change.
Everything inside clenched, but on the outside — nothing.
"May I go?" I asked evenly.
"Yes," he said. There was anger on his face. Pure.
We left the bank. Ostin apologized to Mark for a long time, thanked him, offered him a ride. I looked at Ostin, not understanding.
"Theron is waiting for you," he said and pointed to a second car nearby.
I got in silently. The driver pulled away without a word. We drove to the main office.
The driver walked me to his private elevator and left without a word.
Left alone, I finally allowed myself to shake. All the way. In the elevator too. Fear rolled through my body in a wave, sticky, unpleasant.
We were saved by one detail. A dangerous one.
If the agent had taken the risk and conducted a full search, he would have won. No options. Mark helped us without even realizing it.
The elevator opened. I forced myself to straighten up and take control back.
He wasn't in the living room. Nor in the bedroom.
I went into the main office. Theron was sitting at a desk piled with papers and drinking alcohol. Most likely whiskey. He leaned back in his chair, looking tired.
"Did everything go the way you planned?" he asked without pressure.
I took off my coat and blazer, tossed them onto a chair. Came up and, without asking, took a sip from his glass. I didn't like strong alcohol, but right now it was the only thing that calmed me at least a little.
He watched attentively. Waiting.
"It was scary," I said honestly. "I didn't think I could still be scared. But it worked."
I didn't wait for the next question. I sat down on top of him, straddling him. Loosened his tie, unbuttoned the first button of his shirt. He wasn't wearing a jacket anymore.
"You look tired," I said quietly.
My fingers slid into his hair. I slowly massaged his head. He closed his eyes.
I leaned down and kissed his neck. On one side. Then the other.
He pulled me closer, squeezing my hips.
"You really like to complicate things," he said. "Your plan drained me."
I smiled against his neck. So it worked.
"So where is the pendant now?" he asked, opening his eyes slightly.
I leaned back, bracing my back against the desk, and unbuttoned my shirt down to my chest.
He let out a tired chuckle and leaned forward, resting his forehead against my chest.
"Just don't tell me you hid a hundred-million-dollar pendant in shapewear," he laughed, wrapping his arms around my waist.
I ran my fingers through his hair and just stroked it. Without stopping.
"Why did you have to make everything so complicated?" he asked without lifting his head.
"I was afraid of two things," I finally said.
"Which ones?"
"First, metal detectors. First, metal detectors were a risk."
I fell silent.
He straightened up and looked at me more closely. Almost with care.
"And the second?"
"That they'd risk detaining us and do a real search. A superficial check can be done immediately. But going into underwear requires cause or permission. If they'd gone that far, everything would have fallen apart."
I exhaled.
"We were saved by a grumpy appraiser. Without knowing it."
I fell silent. And for the first time that evening allowed myself to just sit, not thinking about self-control.
"Ostin talked me out of it," he said. "The agent wouldn't have stopped so easily if I'd gone with you. He has a personal hatred for me. An old one."
He pulled me to him again. His fingers slowly traced along my back.
"This is the last time I listened to you."
For a fraction of a second it seemed to me that he was afraid too. I don't know of what exactly — of us being caught or of my plan simply failing.
But I felt how wildly his heart was pounding when he said it.
I gently pulled away. Stood up. Held out my hand to him, inviting him to follow.
He didn't ask. Didn't object. He simply went after me.
I led him to the bed. The day had been heavy. Not so much physically as internally. We don't like to talk — especially about fear. So most often we just stay silent next to each other.
I began undressing him. He didn't interfere. Down to his briefs. Myself — down to my underwear.
Rummaging through his wardrobe, I found a white T-shirt. I took off the bra and handed it to him.
"Put it in the safe," I smirked. "And let's sleep. It was a long day."
He smiled barely noticeably, but did as I said.
While he stepped out, I crawled into bed and almost drowned in the blanket.
Theron dimmed the lights and lay down next to me. That night he held my waist tighter than usual.
And strangely, it brought peace. I fell asleep calmly, knowing he was nearby and that all this madness was behind us.
His phone woke me. Theron reluctantly crawled out from under the blanket and answered. From his face I understood — something serious.
I got up and started getting dressed. He finished the call and looked at me.
"Looks like it's time for me to go," I said. It was after nine. The workday was underway.
"Wait," he exhaled heavily. "I'll get dressed. We need to receive someone."
I didn't understand.
"That agent. The one who stopped you yesterday."
I froze.
What else could he want?
I quickly put myself in order. Hair, clothes. There wasn't even time to retrieve the bra. We went out into the office.
"Ready?" he asked, adjusting my blazer.
"Yes," I answered, not knowing whether it was true.
Theron asked Hilda to bring the guest in.
When the agent entered, I was sitting at the large table with papers. Theron was at his own.
"Good morning," the agent said with feigned friendliness.
"You just don't give up, do you?" Theron replied coldly.
"I didn't come for you. You know that," he looked at me. "I came for Mirey. With an offer."
I already knew — it didn't matter what he said. I would refuse.
"I don't think she's interested," Theron said.
"And I'll ask Mirey," the agent stepped closer. "Interested or not. Yesterday's situation changes a lot. Now she's under suspicion too."
His tone infuriated me.
"I'll refuse," I said evenly. "Right away."
"I had to think," he smiled. "The pendant disappeared. And however you look at it, you were nearby. Which means you're part of it. Maybe we'll talk privately? You'll hear my offer."
"I said no," Theron's voice changed. I knew that voice.
"And if I say," the agent leaned a little closer, "that now I'm interested in the safe deposit box you opened eleven days ago, Miss Mirey?"
He was glowing.
And inside me everything collapsed.