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piece of jewelry is a fake, it’s a fake.”
    It was oddly sincere.
    Asprey grinned sheepishly. “It’s kind of our thing, if you can’t tell from the names. You could say we were born to it.”
    “The names?”
    Tiffany laughed. “Maybe you can help us settle a bet. Asprey thinks he got the worst of the lot. I say no one should have to be saddled with a name like Tiffany.”
    Poppy’s confusion must have shown on her face, because Asprey’s dancing eyes met hers. “Graff Diamonds. Asprey of London. Tiffany & Co.” He offered her a one-shouldered shrug. “We’re a Cartier short of pure, unadulterated pretention.”
    “Those are your real names?” And she’d always thought being named after an opiate was bad.
    Graff gave a slight bow. “Unless you need us to jot down our social security numbers next, can we please move on?”
    It was enough for her. Poppy put the eyepiece to her eye and looked at the necklace. “Okay. What am I looking for?”
    “The texture of the pearl—what do you see?”
    She glanced up. Asprey had adopted a professorial tone, but instead of making him look more arrogant, as she’d expected, the aura of command suited him, made him more natural.
    She focused on the necklace in her hands, unsure what she was supposed to say. “It’s white and swirly. Exactly like a pearl.”
    “Look closer. What does the surface look like?”
    She compressed her lips and tried again. “I don’t know—it almost looks grainy, maybe like a newspaper picture?”
    “Exactly!” Asprey cried, obviously pleased. “What else? Do you see any imperfections?”
    She looked closer. Honestly, she wasn’t qualified for this—and if his goal was to make her feel stupid, it was working. “Not really. It looks perfectly round.”
    “That’s another big clue. Real pearls tend to have one or two flaws when under that kind of magnification. Even at that level of quality. Go ahead—run it over your teeth to feel how smooth it is. That one is clearly a fake.”
    “Really? It’s that easy?”
    Graff rolled his eyes. “Any more secrets you want to give away, Asprey? How about the combination to our safe?”
    “You guys have a safe?” Poppy asked.
    “It’s in the back—strictly for practice.” Asprey laughed. “So there you have it. Fake necklace. You still want it?”
    Not really. Something about the way they looked so apologetic made her believe them. She’d known enough criminals in her lifetime to recognize real sincerity when she saw it—it came with pity that softened the hardest edges. It showcased regret and inefficacy wrapped up in one sad smile.
    Funny that those were attributes she’d come to value in a person.
    Poppy dropped the necklace to the table, taking in the rest of the contents with renewed interest. If the necklace Todd gave her was a fake, she’d need an alternate stream of income. There were some pretty impressive pieces over there.
    She was about to pick up a silver cigarette case engraved all over with tiny horses when realization came at her from the side. “Wait just a fucking minute!”
    Asprey dropped into a crouch. “What?”
    Graff burst out laughing. “Always such courage, little brother. Way to impress the lady.”
    She ignored them, her mind whirling around the one person for whom pity and regret were dirty words. “You know what this means, don’t you? Todd gave me a fake necklace as a gift.”
    No freaking way . That man had enough money to buy his own island in the United Arab Emirates—threw hundred dollar bills around like they were crumpled receipts. For weeks now she’d been giving him the runaround, playing hot and cold, bold and shy. Her pinky finger practically sagged under the weight of him wrapped so firmly around it.
    “I can’t believe he wouldn’t sacrifice a few thousand dollars to give me a real necklace.”
    “Well, technically…” Asprey began, but Graff reached out and smacked him on the back of the head before he got very far.
    She let