‘Not like this. Not when there’s a chance you’ll be recognised.’
‘Every time I step outside I might be recognised! It’s been sixteen years. If they cared where I was, they’d have found me by now.’ I refrained from mentioning the letter I’d received summoning me back to the Sidhe court. Taylor had tried to hide the newspaper because he didn’t want me to get that up close and personal with a Sidhe who knew my real background. He’d go nuts if he discovered I’d been summoned back ‘home’.
‘I think I can handle one Sidhe,’ I said decisively, although I had no idea whether that was true or not. But how hard could it really be? ‘What choice do we have? I get the jewel and you get the money to get us out of this messed-up hole.’
‘But him? He knows you, Tegs.’
I smiled grimly at Byron Moncrieffe’s photo. ‘He’s a playboy with nothing more on his mind than wine and women. It’ll be a piece of cake.’
Taylor regarded me soberly. ‘You’re supposed to be leaving.’
‘Next week.’ I shrugged. ‘I can’t leave now, can I? Besides, I steal the Lia Saifire from Byron in the next seventy-two…’ I checked my watch, ‘make that sixty-eight hours, and I’ll still have plenty of time to pack and say my goodbyes. Whoever the bastard is who’s pulling the strings of this loan and screwing with our crew, they can’t argue if we actually pay up. You just need to make sure the buyer is still in place. And see if you can find out who the money lender is. We need to know so we can stop this happening again.’
Taylor still looked troubled. ‘Stealing from this Sidhe could go very badly. You shouldn’t do it. If he recognises you…’ His voice trailed off.
My eyes flickered again to the spot where Bob’s letter-opener was hiding. The genie was a last resort but he was still there if we needed him. But nicking a gem from a spoilt Sidhe Clan heir should be easier than taking candy from a baby. I could solve all our sudden problems in one fell swoop. And if Byron recognised me … well, I’d spin him a line or two. I was pretty damn good at manipulation when I put my mind to it. Not when it came to burly Wild Men or the arm of the law when I hadn’t had time to prepare but with this idiot … no problemo.
Chapter Five
Taylor wasn’t happy when I’d told him to get lost. It was, however, for the best. He wasn’t going to be able to help me with Byron. At this short notice, the only plan I had time to put into place was that of femme fatale. As much as I hated doing it, it wouldn’t be the first time. And I had to admit that it was almost always successful, even if I normally passed the dubious honour of acting as bait over to Lexie who enjoyed that kind of role-playing far more than I did. For now, it was more important that both Taylor and Lexie were safely tucked away from the moneylender’s reach until we had the necessary coin to get him off our backs. Whether he was after something else or not, he wouldn’t be able to argue if we paid him back.
Once I was sure that Taylor was out of the way, I sprang into action. Desperate times called for desperate measures. I depilated, plucked and pruned myself to within an inch of my life, before liberally dousing my skin with the expensive scented moisturiser which I saved for special occasions. Then I grabbed The Dress.
Every girl has one of these – an item of clothing that says ‘shag me but don’t you dare screw with me’ written all over it. Mine was hot pink, naturally – and very, very tight. It cost me an arm and a leg but it was well worth it, even if I’d only ever worn it twice before and felt distinctly awkward on both occasions. The cunning stitching around the bodice created the illusion that my breasts were far larger than they really were and the fabric panels around my hips accentuated my waist until I looked like some kind of sculpted Barbie doll. It was bloody uncomfortable to wear and sitting down was not a feat for the faint-hearted. I had to go for it, though – I had no choice. It helped that the vast majority of men were generally pretty stupid when it came to such matters. I had no doubts that Sidhe men – even Sidhe men who had females throwing themselves at them every minute of the day – would be no different.
I was less successful with my make-up, carefully applying eyeshadow before stabbing myself with the mascara wand so my eyes watered and I looked like a Pierrot clown in the rain. I was clearly out of practice. I wiped it all off and started again, more slowly this time. When I was done, however, and looked at the results in the mirror, I felt satisfied. The effect was that of a wide-eyed sultry temptress. Byron would have no chance. Or so I hoped.