Good. At least they were talking about real money. I got up and paced around the pool, letting the tension build. Then I fixed my gaze on Alejandro, purposely ignoring the man I was negotiating with. Another of my mother's rules for conning was to seem disinterested in the deal, never too eager. But today I didn't have to pretend. I had my eyes on something much more interesting than a fake guitar. And he seemed to agree.

I continued the bidding. "I'll drop to an even half million."

Alejandro approached me slowly, his gaze on me the whole time. His face hovered inches away from mine, and I could feel hot vodka breath teasing me. I steeled myself and stood my ground, pretending to be unintimidated. We faced off for a few seconds before he stepped back and took over the negotiation. "All right, Ms. Gleason. How about four hundred thousand?"

George quickly added, "That's the best you're going to get. We can't go a penny higher. And it will take me a week to get that much money together."

Four hundred thousand was a great price for a fake guitar, especially since I knew that the real one would go for six. Bea liked to tell us that in a con, you offer them something for nothing while actually giving them nothing for something. So giving it to him for much less than its book value meant he would think he was getting a steal. It would also make me seem less professional and less threatening. I pretended to consider his offer.

After a few more seconds, I conceded. "Well, I suppose that's acceptable. I could shop it around, but I have a lot of work to do with all the stuff in mother's house. So, fine-you have a deal. But I want cash or an online funds transfer. I'm not handing this over to you until I have the money."

Alejandro wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. Wow, did he ever feel good! Hard and muscular, I wanted to take a bite out of his ripped biceps. Instead, I struggled to maintain steady breathing while trying not to lose myself in his embrace.

Through the rush of emotions flying in my head, I heard him ask, "Don't you trust us?" Not surprisingly, when he acted so attentive toward me, a complete stranger, I trusted him less. But I couldn't deny that I lusted for him more.

I let a light laugh come out as I forced myself to push away from this most perfect man. "I don't trust the media circus that hovers around you. The last thing I need is an article about me in No Moss."




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