“Ah, Miss Marquette. My condolences. I heard your father passed away. He was an exceptional man.”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“Have you made a decision about my proposition?”
I doubt many people say no to Lionel Caruthers. Including me.
“Yes.” I pull in a breath then announce, “I’ll do it.”
“Wonderful.” I can practically feel his slimy satisfaction oozing through the phone. “I’ll have a private jet waiting to fly you to Spain in the morning. A dossier and a bag of burner phones will be waiting for you on board. Once the item is secured and delivered, one-hundred thousand dollars will be deposited into an offshore account under an alias I’ve already established for you.”
My head spins a little at his rapid-fire directions and the influx of information. All I manage to say is “Alias?”
“The account belongs to Bella Diamond. From this point forward, all contact between us will be over burners or through the encrypted email I’ll have my IT man set up.”
For a moment, I’m speechless. He seems to take my silence as understanding, and continues, “I have a good feeling that this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship… Miss Diamond.”
Then he hangs up.
Spain? An alias? Burners?
What have I gotten myself into?
It’s all so clandestine and spy-worthy. And I’m not going to lie, a little thrill zings through me. I’ve known Caruthers since I was a little girl running around on digs. Apparently, all those years have coalesced in him trusting me enough to keep his secrets. To offer me a job when he knows I must be strapped for cash. At the same time, it’s an offer from the Devil.
And I’m about to sell my soul.
I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and take a good look around me as the implications of what I’ve done sink in. Not only am I saying goodbye to my dad, I’m leaving behind my life as Delaney Marquette. It’s exactly what I need—the ability to start over, forget my past and become someone entirely new. And I can’t deny the chance to become a new woman is exciting.
Today, at this very moment, I’m sealing my fate.
Tomorrow, I will become Bella Diamond.
Chapter One: Bella
Present Day...
Cherry Hills Village—an affluent suburb only ten miles from downtown Denver—boasts high-profile residents, large homes often exceeding ten-thousand square feet, and the exclusive Cherry Hills and Glenmoor Country Clubs.
In other words, it’s home to a bunch of snobs who think they’re better than everyone else. Including the premiere snob of all, Mr. Adam Voss.
As I pull my Aston Martin Vanquish through the decorative gates which just swung open to allow me inside, I give myself a mental pat on the back. I may not have as much money as Voss, a billionaire tech guy and art collector, but I’m doing alright.
The engine gives a smooth growl as I increase my speed slightly, heading toward the palatial estate which sits onten acres. The house measures more than twenty-thousand square feet and has indoor and outdoor swimming pools, multiple tennis courts and horse stables. I’m not sure why he needs two of everything, but whatever.
It’s all a bit excessive, but when you have money to burn like Adam Voss, why the hell not surround yourself with the best? I’ve definitely learned to appreciate the finer things. And I’ve learned quality comes with a higher price tag.
Like this neighborhood. The cool thing about Cherry Hills Village is residents live less than twenty minutes from the city, but it feels like you’re in the country with its park-like setting. The winding roads, meandering creeks and no commercial properties make it almost idyllic. Lovely surroundings and convenient access to everything else. It’s the best of both worlds… for that upper echelon who can afford it.
I pull my car up in front of the house with its stately columns and stone facade, and sigh. I’m not looking forward to this meeting. First off, I don’t like Adam Voss overly much. He’s arrogant as hell. Thinks nothing of flaunting who he is and what he has. He also has thieves ready to do his bidding—present company included, though I hate to admit it—along with hired mercenaries to guard him and connections behind the scenes in international auction houses. I’m also fairly certain he has the ability to quietly erase people.
Most of the world thinks he’s a humanitarian. Throwing his money around to this fundraiser and that charity for the good of the people they serve. The black market knows him as the man who always gets the artifact, no matter the cost. Despite his outward philanthropic endeavors and charitable donations, I sense a very different man lives beneath the mask.
I guess it takes a charlatan to know one. Somewhere over the last six years, I’ve lost my own identity.
The game I play is a dangerous one. One requiring me to be a chameleon. Nowadays, there are way too many freaking cameras, and facial recognition software is a pain in my ass. So, I do what I can, and go for maximum impact. I disguise my dark hair color with wigs, my blue-green eyes with contacts, and I sometimes even use prosthetics to hide my true features from the better software out there. Tonight, I’m wearing a long, blonde wig and aqua blue contacts. It’s how Voss knows me, and I don’t want to switch up my look too much and wind up getting tackled by his security team—another potential hazard in this world.
Before I can knock, the enormous door swings inward and his personal assistant, Percy Murnen, greets me. He gives off hoity-toity vibes, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was born in an Armani suit. I hate the way he always squints at me over the top of his glasses which constantly slip down the bridge of his narrow, pointy nose. He reminds me of a mole. A very judgmental one.