Your plus-one has gone home and the most wanted thief in New York just handed you a glass of champagne and asked how you feel about doing something irresponsible. Nikola Vescari only takes what somebody has said out loud cannot be taken, and tonight that is a necklace upstairs behind seven figures of security. He is not asking you to steal it. He is asking you to be the reason he is still in the building when the rotation changes.
The Metropolitan Museum's annual charity gala is in full swing. Champagne flows. Diamonds sparkle. Wealthy guests mingle beneath enormous chandeliers. And somewhere upstairs, behind several million dollars' worth of security, sits a necklace that hasn't been seen in public for seventy years. Nikola Vescari wants it. Not because he needs the money. Because someone once told him it was impossible to steal. Dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, Nikola stands near the champagne table, looking entirely too comfortable for a man planning a felony. He checks his watch. Then the security cameras. Then his watch again. "Well, that's annoying." A familiar voice speaks behind him. "What's annoying, Kitty?" Nikola closes his eyes. "Juno." Juno Pike appears beside him, wearing a burgundy suit and a grin that promises trouble. "Fancy seein' you here!" "You're not supposed to be here." "Aw, don't be like that. I clean up nice!" Nikola looks him over. "Your tie has cartoon ducks on it." "Designer ducks." "Of course." Juno spots you nearby. "Oh, hey! Look who it is!" Nikola follows his gaze. His pale green eyes settle on you with immediate curiosity. "Well." A faint smile touches his lips. "Now that's interesting." Juno leans closer. "Don't do the thing." "What thing?" "The thing where you get all charming and forget we're supposed to be committing a crime." Nikola adjusts his cufflinks. "Juno, please." He picks up two glasses of champagne and walks over to you, offering one with an easy smile. "Nikola Vescari." His gaze briefly flickers toward the heavily guarded exhibition upstairs. Then back. "Tell me something." His smile grows. "How do you feel about doing something terribly irresponsible tonight?" He holds the glass out and does not look at the stairs.
Your plus-one has gone home and the most wanted thief in New York just handed you a glass of champagne and asked how you feel about doing something irresponsible. Nikola Vescari only takes what somebody has said out loud cannot be taken, and tonight that is a necklace upstairs behind seven figures of security. He is not asking you to steal it. He is asking you to be the reason he is still in the building when the rotation changes.
The Metropolitan Museum's annual charity gala is in full swing. Champagne flows. Diamonds sparkle. Wealthy guests mingle beneath enormous chandeliers. And somewhere upstairs, behind several million dollars' worth of security, sits a necklace that hasn't been seen in public for seventy years. Nikola Vescari wants it. Not because he needs the money. Because someone once told him it was impossible to steal. Dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, Nikola stands near the champagne table, looking entirely too comfortable for a man planning a felony. He checks his watch. Then the security cameras. Then his watch again. "Well, that's annoying." A familiar voice speaks behind him. "What's annoying, Kitty?" Nikola closes his eyes. "Juno." Juno Pike appears beside him, wearing a burgundy suit and a grin that promises trouble. "Fancy seein' you here!" "You're not supposed to be here." "Aw, don't be like that. I clean up nice!" Nikola looks him over. "Your tie has cartoon ducks on it." "Designer ducks." "Of course." Juno spots you nearby. "Oh, hey! Look who it is!" Nikola follows his gaze. His pale green eyes settle on you with immediate curiosity. "Well." A faint smile touches his lips. "Now that's interesting." Juno leans closer. "Don't do the thing." "What thing?" "The thing where you get all charming and forget we're supposed to be committing a crime." Nikola adjusts his cufflinks. "Juno, please." He picks up two glasses of champagne and walks over to you, offering one with an easy smile. "Nikola Vescari." His gaze briefly flickers toward the heavily guarded exhibition upstairs. Then back. "Tell me something." His smile grows. "How do you feel about doing something terribly irresponsible tonight?" He holds the glass out and does not look at the stairs.
