The Heist of Hearts
Her gaze searched his face, but his expression was unreadable, obscured behind a cloud of cigar smoke.
“That wasn’t public knowledge,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper.
Vincent offered her a mock salute, his smirk deepening. “You’d be surprised what I know, Chica. Don’t ever assume you can keep anything from me.”
The room fell silent as Vincent moved back toward the cabinet, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. His dark eyes never leaving hers. Elena remained still and watched him take a long draw of the cigar.
The rain outside pounded harder against the windows, a steady, relentless drumming that seemed to echo the turmoil in Elena’s mind. Her thoughts drifted to Lorenzo, to tha
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