"You haven�t told me about the art, Dorian."

Disappointment flashed in his eyes, but he recovered quickly. "Remind me which pieces you were interested in."

"Well, all of it, of course. But first, I need to know about the Hermes statue and the Viola LaPorte painting."

"Ah, yes. The pieces you were so diligently investigating last night."

Ignoring the burn of shame in her gut, she said, "How did you acquire them?"

"Quite legally, I assure you. I work with a highly discerning, highly reputable buyer. He knows my tastes, and contacts me when something that may be of interest crosses his path." He sipped his Cognac, relaxing deeper into his chair. "He acquired the LaPorte for me about three years ago, Hermes� maybe six or eight months later. They both came from separate estate auctions, I believe."

"You believe? Or you know?"

"Does it matter?"

Charley closed her eyes, returning the glass to her lips. She really didn�t want to disclose anything else, but she sensed Dorian would make things a lot more difficult if she didn�t at least give him a breadcrumb or two.

She just needed some liquid courage first.

After a few more sips, she said, "What I�m about to tell you can�t leave this room. Do I have your word?"

Dorian�s eyebrows lifted. "I can�t imagine what could be so secretive about a perfectly legal transaction I made years ago, with a broker who�s made dozens of similar transactions before and since."

"Your word, Dorian."

Concern warred with curiosity in his eyes, but eventually, he gave in. "Fine. It won�t leave this room."

"At one time, both pieces belonged to a single collector in the West Village."

"Really? I didn�t acquire them together. As I said, I�m fairly certain they came from different estates."

"Prior ownership isn�t the only thing they have in common." Charley stared into her glass, firelight dancing in the amber liquid. She tried not to think about the fires of hell. "The LaPorte and the Hermes, along with the rest of the man�s collection�approximately seventy million dollars in art and artifacts�were stolen from his apartment five years ago, never recovered. As far as I know, yours are the first pieces to surface."

"That�s� impossible."

"I wish it were."

Dorian leaned forward in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "Charlotte. How on earth do you know about this?"

"It�s my job."

"So you investigate art heists for a living? I thought you were a consultant."

"I am a consultant. And in my line of work, sometimes I come across stolen pieces. It�s not as unusual as you might think."

"Why haven�t I heard of this before? An art heist of that magnitude should�ve made the papers."

Charley�s cheeks heated, and she took another sip of Cognac, unable to hold his gaze. "The theft was never reported. I suspect the collector wanted to keep his name out of the spotlight." JrNovels.com