Chapter 46

 

The waiter removed their dessert dishes. “Can I get you a nightcap to go with your coffee, sir?”

Dylan looked at April, “Would you like a brandy or anything?”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

“Two Rémy Martin’s please.”

The waiter nodded and left.

“It’s been a lovely evening, thank you,” she smiled. It had. The meal had been a gourmet delight, but it was his company she’d enjoyed. Not only was he incredibly good looking, he had a charming personality and had made her laugh with tales about the all-boys schools he’d attended.

“It has been nice. And much as I’ve enjoyed imagining getting that beautiful dress off you, I’ve brought you here to talk to you about something serious.”

Her nipples tightened as his sexy eyes devoured her cleavage. The dress was rather a nice prop for seduction. It was black with a low neck edged with tiny pearl beads. It was sleeveless and fitted, so enhanced her waist and hips. She’d made sure when she bought it, she had plenty of flesh on show.

“Go on then, I’m listening.”

“Before I do, I want to ascertain something. Where do you see this relationship going between us?”

“I don’t really see us as in a relationship to be honest,” she frowned, “we’re just friends aren’t we, enjoying each other?”

“Yes, that’s the way I see it. But I do really like you, Gemma, and that makes what I’m about to ask more difficult than I’d expected.”

“Crikey, this sounds ominous.” She appeared puzzled, “I’m all ears.”

His expression was intense. As if he was in two minds whether to ask.

Better throw in some uncertainty.

“Do you want to end it between us? Is that what it is?”

“Absolutely not,” he dismissed, “it’s nothing like that.”

She tilted her head to one side, “What then?”

A muscle in the corner of his eye began to twitch. “I’d like you to consider doing a job for the gallery.”

“Not more cleaning?” she pulled a face, “I’m pretty cleaned out to be honest.” She lifted her hands, “I’ve got calluses to prove it.”

“It’s not cleaning.” His expression was serious, as if he was actually in pain asking her.

“What is it then?” She put a questioning look on her face. “It’s nothing risky, is it?” she asked cautiously.

“No, it’s not risky as such.”

She blew out a breath, “That’s a relief then because that part of my life is well and truly over.”

She waited for him to speak again. It surprised her he was struggling.

He cleared his throat. “I wonder if you would consider moving some paintings from the UK over to France for me.”

Even though she was expecting him to ask, it hurt.

Stupidly, she was disappointed.

“Me? Don’t you have paid drivers to do that?”

“Yes, I have, but I don’t trust them with the particular stock I want moving.”

“What, you think they might abscond with it?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Well, can’t you have a security guard with them?” She frowned hopefully making a good job of looking confused, “Isn’t that what you usually do with expensive stock, anyhow?”

“Yes, but these paintings are different.”

She nodded, giving the impression she understood, but knew she needed to give more.

“Why don’t you move them yourself, then? Can’t you and your brother do it between you?”

“No, not this particular stock, we need someone we can trust to move it.”

She narrowed her eyes, “I’m not sure I like the sound of this. I’ve already told you, I’m not getting involved in anything dodgy.”

“It isn’t dodgy as you put it. It’s transporting some paintings in a van. Nothing to it really.”

“Then why aren’t you doing it?”

“The paintings can’t be associated with me or the gallery.”

“So they’re knock-off then, is that what you’re saying?”

“I think highly sought after, is a better term.”

She exaggerated the puzzlement on her face. “So, let me get this right. You want me to transport stolen paintings from the UK across to France?”

“In a nutshell, yes.”

“And what if I get caught?”

“You won’t. The custom officers will just do a check to see that the paintings match the certification and you’d be on your way.”

“Oh, right, easy as that, is it?” She took an exaggerated deep breath in. “I don’t know why you think I’d be interested. I get it now why you’ve been pursuing me. And here’s me thinking you liked me.”

“I do like you, Gemma. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“Well I’m not interested. You clearly don’t know me very well if you think I’d risk going back to jail. I’ve told you before; I’m trying to get my life sorted.” She kept her voice low. “Why you would even think I’d consider something like this is beyond me. What reason would I have?”

“Twenty thousand pounds.”

She visibly swallowed and stared.

The waiter appeared and rested a tray on the edge of the table. She watched him placing the china coffee pot down, and two brandy goblets.

“Anything else, sir?”

Dylan smiled, “We’re good thank you.”

She watched as he poured her coffee before pouring his own. She broke the silence. “How much are the paintings worth?”

“There’s only one of significant value. The others are simply being moved between galleries which is standard.”

He sipped his coffee and watched her.

“Is it just you?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow, “And Vic.”

“You two have stolen a painting?”

“No. I meant it’s Vic and I that move paintings. We have a buyer for the valuable one, and once it’s out of the UK, we’ll be paid and that’s the end of it.”

“It all sounds slick. Have you done this before?”

The aroma of the brandy reached her as he swished his goblet around. “Let’s just say we aren’t amateurs.”

“I can’t believe you’re telling me all this. Aren’t you worried I’ll leave here and go to the police?”

He shook his head, “No. People who’ve been inside rarely confide in cops. And what could you tell them? I’m a respectable business man and there’s no link whatsoever to me or Vic to the painting. Anyway, I’m a fairly good judge of character and I don’t think you’d do that somehow.”

“It’s still a massive risk, you telling me.”

“I have no choice. I want the painting moved.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

“I see.” She interjected sadness into her tone, “It’s all coming together now. You must have done this before. That last girl, what was her name,” she purposely got it wrong, “Linda was it? That’s why you give the jailbirds jobs at the gallery, isn’t it? All this rehabilitation is rubbish. You want them to help you. I bet I’m not far wrong, am I?”

He took a sip of his drink. “Like I said, we are not amateurs. So, are you coming round to the idea?”

“No, I’m not,” she snapped. “Tell me, do you sleep with them all. Is that what it’s about? Screw the cleaner and turn her head a bit and she’ll do anything?”

He took a deep breath in. “It may have been in the beginning, yes. You were easy to screw. You’re a very beautiful young woman,” he reached for her hand, “but I didn’t expect to feel quite the way I do about you.”

She pulled her hand away. “Please . . . spare me the crap. You’re using me to get what you want.”

“Okay, maybe I am a bit, but it needn’t be like that. We can still be friends when this is over.”

“Oh, yeah right, I bet. And how would that work if I’m handcuffed to a cop?” She shook her head, “I don’t think so, somehow.”

“Look, all I’m asking is for you to think about it. Twenty thousand pounds would go a long way to getting you that fresh start you want.”

“That’ll be chicken-feed to what you’ll be getting.”

“Yes, well, we’ve done the hardest part. Your bit’s relatively easy. It’s a regular delivery job.”

“What’s the painting worth?”

“A lot. But that’s split between a lot of people.”

“And what will you end up with once you’ve paid everyone?”

“Does it matter? The question is, will you consider it?”

She took a deep breath in.

You bloody bet I will.

“No.”