It Started With a Heist

Chapter 11

EMMA

After hours of painting, we stepped back to admire our work, only to be reminded by the growling of our stomachs that we had skipped dinner.

We exchanged a look, our clothes splattered with paint, and realized no restaurant would let us in looking like this. So, we wandered to a nearby food truck and grabbed two hot dog sandwiches.

Once we had eaten, we decided to head to Central Park for a walk. I grabbed some napkins and laid them over the leather seats of Jake's car to protect them from our paint-smeared clothes.

When we arrived, we strolled through the park until we reached my favorite spot—a bench overlooking the Bow Bridge. The iconic arch stretched gracefully over the still waters of the lake, reflecting the city's skyline like scattered starlight.

We sat down and dug into our sandwiches. Jake then suggested a game of 20 questions, and I agreed, thinking it might be the perfect way to steer the conversation toward the case.

The mix of delicious food, stunning scenery, and lively conversation as we played made it an evening to remember. We laughed until our stomachs ached, traded playful jokes, and even shared a few heartfelt moments.

"So you've been to lots of museums. Which one's your favorite?"

Wiping my mouth with a napkin, I placed my finger on my lips, considering my response.

"Hmm... definitely not the Louvre," I said. "It's always so packed you can barely move without bumping into someone. And don't even get me started on the crowds swarming the Mona Lisa."

Jake chuckled. "Alright. What else?"

"The British Museum is impressive but doesn't feel very... British. And Egypt's museums are great, but unless it's winter, you better bring a fan everywhere."

"You're picky."

"Guilty as charged." I grinned. "Okay, my turn. What's your biggest regret in life?"

Jake furrowed and his lips pressed into a thoughtful line. After a pause, he shook his head. "I don't think I've lived through it yet."

As I studied his features, I noticed that his eyes were full of confidence, one that expanded from so deep within. It made me question my own.

To the outside world, I was the picture of confidence, but beneath the surface were layers of carefully crafted masks. At the end of the day, I was a con artist—a master at making people believe whatever I wanted them to.

I wondered what it felt like to go to bed and wake with a clear conscience every day. What it felt to realize that you were good to the core and know your real self-worth.

"From Earth to Emma."

I snapped back to the present moment when I heard Jake's voice. I gave him a small smile and apologized for zoning out.

"I was saying it's my turn," he said. "So, what's yours?"

I blinked. "My biggest regret?"

Jake nodded, and I mentally kicked myself for asking that question. I searched for an answer that wouldn't give too much away. Memories flooded my mind, each one more incriminating than the last, but I forced them aside.

"Well," I began carefully, "I think it's not following my dreams sooner. I've always loved art more than anything, but I let fear and doubt hold me back. Now, I'm finally fighting for what I want—no matter the cost."

I had no idea why I decided to be so honest with him all of a sudden. If he only knew how loaded that answer was.

When I glanced at him, I found his green eyes fixed on me.