The First Lie

“You have the wrong woman.”

“No.” Calvin stayed close, his voice controlled but edged with anger. “The woman on Apollo wore a different face, but she used the same perfume. Jasmine and cedar.”

I released his wrist and reached for the cloth beside the stove.

“She also had the same mark behind her right ear.”

My hand stopped.

Calvin leaned closer. “Do you still want to tell me we have never met?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

His gaze held mine. “Then perhaps you need help remembering.”

He moved before I could answer. He kissed me with the same hunger he had on Apollo. His hand tightened at my waist and pulled me against him, and before I could stop myself, I kissed him back just as hard. The yacht returned in one rush, his hands on my bare skin, the second kiss after the armed men left and my fingers knotted in his shirt.

Calvin pulled back first, but his hand remained at my waist.

“I hope that helped,” he said. “Because I remember it clearly.”

I released his shirt and swung my hand toward his face. Calvin caught my wrist before my palm reached him.

“Let go.”

His grip stayed firm without twisting my arm. “You climbed aboard my yacht, lied about who you were, used me as cover, knocked me unconscious, and disappeared. Now you are standing in my house pretending none of it happened.”

“That does not give you the right to kiss me!”

“You had no objection for the first two seconds.”

Heat climbed into my face. “I was surprised.”

“You kissed me back.”

I pulled against his hold. “I said let go!”

“Why were armed men chasing you?”

“I witnessed something dangerous. Something they believed I knew too much about.”

“And this?” His gaze moved over my wig and altered face. “Why are you working inside my resort under another appearance?”

Calvin stepped closer and planted one hand on the counter beside me. He did not touch me again, but he blocked the easiest path around him.

“My phone and equipment were behind you,” I said. “I couldn’t leave them aboard Apollo, and you wouldn’t stop watching me.”

“And knocking me unconscious seemed like the best option?” 

“I meant to trip you. The cabinet was not part of the plan.”

The corner of his mouth moved, but any amusement vanished almost immediately.

“I could call the police,” he said. “I could report that the woman who trespassed aboard Apollo, knocked me unconscious, and disappeared is now working inside my house under a false name.”

My stomach tightened. Vic knew I had hidden aboard a yacht, but he did not know it was Apollo, and I had not told him about my missing ID and Captain Ward knew even less. One report from Calvin could destroy my cover before I found out who had killed Eli.

“You could,” I said. “But then you would have to explain why Apollo appears on art-cargo documents.”

His body went still.

“Apollo doesn’t transport cargo.”

“Then why is its registration attached to a transfer from Port Aurelia? Your yacht, your registration, and your family’s art program.”

His expression hardened. “Someone used Apollo’s name, and I intend to find out who.”

He leaned closer until only inches separated us.

“Until I have answers, you stay where I can see you. You tell me where you’re going, what you’re doing, and when I ask a question, you answer it.” His voice hardened. “Or I call the police, report the woman who trespassed aboard Apollo and knocked me unconscious, and give them your current address. Your choice.” 

Footsteps approached from the corridor, but Calvin did not move. Anyone entering the kitchen would have thought the argument was something far more intimate.

The front door opened before I could answer.

“Calvin?” A woman called from the hall. “Tell me you remembered the auction briefing.”

He stepped away as she entered with two folders and a rolled floor plan. She had his dark hair and direct gaze, but none of his restraint.

She looked between us. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Calvin said.

Her smile widened. “Cassandra Reed.”

“Sienna Blake.”

“I know. You’re the new housekeeper my brother personally requested.” She glanced at Calvin. “You barely notice furniture, but now you’re monitoring staff before breakfast?”

“Cass.”

“That means stop.” She set the folders on the counter. “The private auction is tomorrow at the Grand Pavilion. It’s one of our biggest events this season, so everyone will help with preparations.”

A gold sun marked the top folder above the words Laurent-Reed Arts Initiative.

Cass tapped it. “Our family handles the resort. The Laurents handle the art. Together, we make expensive problems look elegant.”

Calvin closed the folder before I could read beneath it.

“You’re late for your meeting,” he said.

Cass looked between us again. “And you’re clearly in the middle of something else.”

By late morning, I was back at the main hotel collecting supplies for Reed House. My shoulder protested when I lifted a box, so I shifted it before Belle noticed. She stood at the housekeeping desk with an event schedule spread across the counter.

“Put that down and look at this.”

Several room numbers were crossed out in red and stamped RESTRICTED—APPROVED STAFF ONLY.

“What happened to the normal assignments?”

“Theo’s office changed them this morning.” Belle tapped the list. “These are VIP suites. Housekeeping usually prepares every room, but now only four approved employees can enter.”

“Maybe the collectors requested privacy.”

“Collectors request extra towels and impossible room temperatures. They don’t remove housekeeping.”

I studied the restricted suites. One booking was under a private company instead of a guest. I had seen the name twice in Eli’s records—beside the Port Aurelia exhibition and a payment through the Laurent-Reed Arts Initiative.

“Do you know who’s staying there?”

Belle shook her head. “The guest details were removed too.”

When she turned away, I moved the schedule beneath my button camera and photographed the company name and Theo’s authorization code.

In the storage room, I checked the images and opened my encrypted chat with Vic.

Me: VIP suites removed from housekeeping access. Theo’s office approved it. One collector company matches Eli’s records.

His reply came less than a minute later.

Vic: Observe only. Don’t enter the rooms. We need a stronger link before you risk your cover.

I locked the phone away as Celeste entered.

“Sienna, leave the Reed House supplies with Belle. You’ll assist at the Grand Pavilion after your estate duties.”

“Who changed my assignment?”

“Mr. Reed.”

Of course. At the pavilion, workers moved display stands and sealed crates through the preparation area. I had barely entered when Calvin appeared beside a stack of auction folders.

His gaze dropped to the box in my arms. I set it down. “Why am I here?”

“You wanted to know why Apollo appears on those records.” He handed me an event badge. “Start by paying attention tomorrow.”

My fingers closed around it. He had not guessed that I searched his study. He had known.

Belle found me near the rear display tables with an inventory folder pressed to her chest.

“Latest auction list,” she said. “Theo’s office changed it twice, so don’t trust the earlier copies.”

She handed it over and hurried away. I opened the folder beside a row of sealed crates and one serial number stopped me. I had seen it in Port Aurelia.

After checking the aisle, I pulled out the burner phone. The number matched the exhibition crate whose sculpture base had held Vesper, but the rest was different.

The Port Aurelia records listed one title and artist. The auction inventory gave it a new title, a different artist, and a lower weight. I checked the number again. Same serial number.

Different artwork. Someone had given the sculpture a new identity.