Steal My Heart (WAYHAUGHT)

Chapter 9

Shower sex with Nicole was everything she hoped it would be. And, more. So, so much more. The water cascading over their bodies as Nicole fucked her against the stone-tiled walls. Whether it was the heat in the shower, or the intensity of what they were doing, Waverly's legs gave out, Nicole only just managing to catch her as she slumped to the floor.

"You OK?"

"Oh, my God. So, so OK."

She pulled Nicole into a kiss. One both of them never wanted to end.

"I have another business meeting. I'll be back early afternoon. What time is Champ back?"

"Late. I'm out with Chrissy later."

"Fine. Still gives us a few hours. OK, if I finish off here. Give me a few minutes."

Waverly left Nicole to finish showering. She lay on the bed, content with the world. Nicole's wardrobe was partially open. She owned some amazing designer suits. Waverly was curious if any of the jackets would fit her given their different size. She opened the door fully, taking down a navy blue tailored jacket to try on.

That's when she noticed the safe on the floor. Its door partially open as well. She didn't want to look. Afterall, this was Nicole's apartment, her safe. Whatever was in the safe was personal to Nicole.

Curiosity got the better.

She peaked inside. Several passports, Dollars, Euros, a very expensive watch and what looked like a notebook. A diary perhaps. Waverly knew she was going too far. She extracted the notebook. It had a hard, navy blue cardboard covering, A4 in size. Simple, nothing fancy.

She opened it, starting at the first page:

March 24, 2007 – 16th century small silver case, Musée d'Orsay, Paris France

July 27, 2007 – 17th century manuscript, Leopold Museum, Vienna Austria

....

Pages, upon pages of entries of items from museums, galleries, churches, art fairs.

....

Latest entries in the journal: the two paintings stolen from Tate Modern and a small snuff box from the V&A Museum.

Waverly sat staring at the words on the page. She couldn't breathe. If what she suspected was true, Nicole was an international criminal, capable to stealing a Picasso from a major London gallery. She didn't know what to do. Shaking, she put the notebook back in the safe. She heard the water being turned off in the shower. Nicole emerged, still dripping. She dried herself off in front of Waverly, who had jumped back on the bed.

"Ready for round two?"

"Sure." Her voice giving away something was wrong.

"You OK?"

"Yes. Come here."

Nicole could sense the moment she touched Waverly something was wrong. Her muscles weren't as relaxed. She seemed to be processing something. She was looking at her in a different way.

Nothing felt right. The chemistry, the connection had gone.

Nicole sat up.

"Are you OK?"

"I....I... Sorry. I'm sorry."

Waverly sprang off the bed, grabbing her clothes, leaving Nicole utterly confused.

Waverly needed to get away. Anywhere, but here right now. Why? Why? She's perfect. Why?

She grabbed her bag and jacket from her apartment. She knew the only person she could turn to in a crisis like this was her older sister. She sent a text to Chrissy saying she wasn't feeling well and could she take a rain check on drinks this evening. She sent another text to Wynonna.

Waverly: r u free 4 a drink now?

Wynonna: Sure. u OK?

Wynonna was an Executive Producer on one of ITV's major shows. It was stressful, long hours and she loved it. She had offered to get Waverly a job, but Waverly didn't want to work with Wynonna. She loved her, but, honestly couldn't live, or work with her. She was too high maintenance.

Waverly hovered outside Wynonna's building. She needed to speak to her sister. Get her judgment. She knew she was shrewd. She would know the best way to go forward on this.

"Fucking, fucking set designers. Seriously, if they could have fucked up any more than they already fucked up, it would be the biggest fuck up in the history of fuck ups."

Waverly sensed Wynonna wasn't having the best of days.

"You OK?"

"Yeah. So, ready for a drink. Honestly, set designers, utter fuckwits."

They headed to the nearest quiet bar. Waverly sat nursing her wine. Wynonna sat stewing on the day's fuck up. Waverly needed to get things off her chest.

"Listen. Can I tell you something?"

"Sure, as long as it doesn't involve fucking set designers."

"I'm sort of banging my neighbour."

That got Wynonna's attention.

"Tell me more. Who is he?"

"She."

Wynonna put her glass down. Waverly could see she was trying to process what she had just heard.

"Not the American?"

"Nicole."

"Oh, my God. Seriously. I didn't know you were into chicks. Good for you. She's hot?"

"Ha ha. Very funny."

"What?" She is."

"No. Her surname is Haught."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me?"

"Listen. That's not all I need to tell you."

"She's married? She has kids? Tell me she's a spy?"

"International art thief."

Wynonna's mouth fell open.

"No. What? Nicole. No. Fuck me...Seriously, you're telling me Nicole steals things. Like, steals things for a living. Tell me more."

Waverly went on to explain how she had accidentally found Nicole's meticulous catalogue of stolen items in her safe. How she had gone through the list and seen the two paintings listed that were stolen from the Tate Modern. How she and Nicole had visited Tate Modern. How she had admired Picasso's The Dream. How Nicole had commented on Procter's The Orchard. She didn't want it to be true, but she knew in her heart what Nicole was.

"Dude, I don't know what to say. What about Champ?"

Waverly hadn't considered Champ in any of this.

"Baby girl. I think you need to step back from this. If she is what you say she is. That's serious. I don't want you getting hurt. You don't know who this girl is mixed up with. Seriously, step away now, before it's too late.

Wynonna was right. She knew she was right. And, yet. And, yet.

Nicole had sent countless texts. None of which Waverly replied to. Her messages were getting increasingly frantic, until the last one.

Nicole: Did you read my journal?

Waverly: Can we talk?