Chris Diamond Miss Lexa -

He blinked. That was the first crack. “The client was a shell corporation in the Caymans. Male name. ‘Mr. Smith.’”

She reached into her jacket and pulled out a second card. Identical. “This is a duplicate. I want you to take it, walk out the front door, and lead Vane’s men on a merry chase through the city. You’ll be the decoy. I’ll take the real painting—the real card—out through the service elevator.” chris diamond miss lexa

“I didn’t open it,” Chris said.

Chris felt the weight of the room shift. He was used to being the smartest person in the room. But Lexa wasn’t a room—she was a labyrinth. He blinked

“To see if you could resist opening the frame.” Male name

Chris froze. His eyes darted to the painting. The Monet was lovely—hazy water lilies, soft light. But he’d noticed it the moment he lifted it off the wall. The frame was slightly thicker on the bottom edge. Just a millimeter. But a man who steals art for a living notices millimeters.

“Dinner is for survivors, Chris.” She pressed the elevator call button. “Try not to die before dessert.”