Page 18 of Painted in Sin

One overly formal police officer stands in front of me, asking Gerard questions. He's a tall man too, matching Gerard's height, and they both intimidate me.

"And how did you know this was happening?" the officer asks, but I know. Victor is obsessed with me now. I know he sent Gerard to bring me, but he probably told him to watch out for me too. I don't even have to ask him how he knew the man was in my room.

"I drove her here. She left her purse in my car." Gerard tells the bold-face lie with an absolutely calm demeanor. This was cold-blooded murder, but he's playing it like mere self-defense. Maybe it was. I'm too shaken to know the difference. He didn't bring my purse up. I had it, but the way it lies open on the foot of the bed with my cards scattered does look like a simple crimeof opportunity. And the fact that the dead man is wearing a hotel uniform makes it look even more suspicious.

I sit there for at least two hours, maybe longer. I repeat my name and address, occupation, and the basic facts I remember to at least three other cops. When they start to clear out, telling me I have to go to a different room, hotel staff usher me down the hallway to a free room, an upgrade at no charge. Gerard follows along and waits at the door for the real bellhop to leave.

"Let me take you back to Mr. Costa's house," he says, not being pushy at all. It’s a kind gesture given what happened, and I fully expect him to be a man more like the dark-fated criminal Victor is, but he seems like a family man, wedding ring, soft eyes.

"I can't. It's… not safe." My lip quivers, and I don't even know what safe is anymore.

"Then at least let me stay here, outside your door, where Mr. Costa asked me to be." The words settle over me, and a knowing passes between us. So he is watching me the way I thought, and Victor sent him. I nod and let him take a chair from the room, then go back in and shut the door. This time when I deadbolt it, lock it, and fix the chain, I know it won't open again until morning, when the cockroaches return to their dens in the darkness and I can think of a plan to protect myself.

14

VICTOR

It's been three days since Isabella was attacked in her hotel room. Gerard has been following her ever since. He sits outside the gallery watching the building and a camera feed my techs have forwarded to an app on his phone. He can see everything she does now, make sure she's safe. I'm not taking chances. I know I'm the one who led her into this shitty trap she's in between all the forces at play and vying for the Raphael.

I head into the gallery with one thing on my mind today, however, and it's not Isabella's safety. I know Gerard won't let a soul touch her, and my trust is fully in his capability to follow my orders. My purpose here is to light a fire under this situation. I'm not content just parking my painting here for safekeeping—mostly keeping it out of my father's hands and in mine. No, I'm interested in seeing just how valuable Ms. De Luca's art really is. I have my eyes set on a future that moves away from my current trajectory, but I can't risk my fortune and reputation on just anyone.

"Ah, Mr. Costa," I hear and turn to see Nico Giani, the gallery owner. He strides toward me with hands open in a welcominggesture and a smile on his face. We've agreed that in exchange for his generous allowance of my using Ms. De Luca's time and this space, I will permit him to place my Raphael on display here. The short duration is an annoyance at worst but a necessary evil, and he's happy to oblige me for the benefit of his gallery's legacy.

"Mr. Giani, so good to see you. I've stopped by to speak with Ms. De Luca about my painting. Is she free?" I know she's free, with her assistant framing the Raphael she forged even as we speak. My camera feed is very handy for that.

"Right this way, and we'll find out." Giani gestures in the general direction of the studio housed behind the gallery, and I follow. My plan is already working well. I just have to lay the bait for Isabella and let her show her true colors. I know she loves art as much as I do, and she will never allow any piece of artwork to be in danger.

He leads me into the workspace where Isabella and her assistant, whose name escapes me right now, stand staring at the framed painting. I do have to admit it is a striking recreation. Most people will never know the difference between this and the original Raphael, but I see it, the tiny intricacies. I'm no expert the way she is, but I have studied this particular painting my whole life, from the moment I learned it belongs to my family.

"Mr. Costa," she says, nodding at me. There is a way about her that tells me she's tense and afraid. She doesn't smile as much. Her eyes are drawn. She must not be sleeping well, and I wish I could take that from her—that fear hovering over her life.

"Ms. De Luca, the work you've done is fantastic. This painting has never looked better. It's like it's a whole new image." My eyes narrow on her, and she nods curtly but avoids eye contact. I'mtrying to send her the signal that I know what she's done, but she can't even look at me.

"The painting has been authenticated and restored. I've stretched it on the new underframe and placed it back in your family's original gilded frame. I think this will display very nicely." Her head hangs, hands wringing near her waistline. Giani scowls at her, and Paolo stands in the corner looking like a leaf in the wind. He clearly understands what's happening here. Interesting how she tells her assistant everything and her boss nothing.

After that man approached her in the parking lot she was shaken, but being attacked in her own hotel room seems to have broken something in her. Yet the men in her life have two very different reactions. The assistant seems to be the compassionate one.

"Good, good…" I stroll over to the painting and admire the handiwork for a few seconds longer before sliding my hands into my pockets and staring right at Mr. Giani. "I've heard it from a very reputable source that someone is planning a heist… My painting and another Raphael. The Sister of Mourning… It's on display here too." My eyes narrow on him as he shakes his head and smiles.

"I assure you, Mr. Costa, that your painting is of the utmost importance to us. And no one can truly steal a painting from us. You were here the night of that exhibit when someone tried to lift that Pollock. Remember? They didn't get away with anything…" He is so self-assured, so very wrong. The Pollock is a straight forgery, stolen from Interpol after Isabella's last brush with them and used to frame her for more forgery should she get an idea to double-cross me.

"And I assure you that the threat is very credible. Do you not know who I am and what I do for a living, Mr. Giani?" I glance at Isabella, who stares at me intently now. She knows I will never risk my painting, and she is taking this seriously even if her boss isn't. "My sources are never wrong… Now I suggest you keep my painting in the vault where it's secure and move the other to the vault as well. It's the best course of action." I eye him for a moment longer, then nod at Isabella and make my way to the door.

My hand is barely on the door handle when I hear her speak. "Mr. Costa, of course, all of these paintings on display are very valuable. Do you know specifically why they want this painting and the Sister of Mourning?" I turn to see her eyes investigating me, as if she knows it will be Nicola Vitale doing the lift under my order. As if she can read my mind.

"There is an old legend that together, the paintings are more valuable." The legend is true, though I do not know exactly why. Perhaps she's heard of it too, because her eyebrows tick up and she nods.

"And do you know when this lift is planned?" Ahh, there she is. My sweet girl is using the language of the trade. Giani glowers at her and shakes his head.

"Nonsense, Isabella, the paintings are more than safe. We have state-of-the-art security. Don’t fuel Mr. Costa's fears." He nods at me, ushering me out of the room as I see her wilt into the background with her assistant. The seed is planted, and now I wait.

She will set the forgery and when Vitale lifts it, I can see how truly valuable her work is. I'll have a real De Luca forgery and themarket will go wild for it. Until then, all I can do is watch and learn.

15

ISABELLA

"But sir," I protest yet again. Mr. Giani is a brilliant man, but when it comes to blind faith, he holds it in hefty doses. He really thinks Victor is a good and honest man, one who could never do the things of which I accuse him. "He's a criminal. You should see his home. He has stolen paintings from all over the world. The artwork in his mansion is worth more than your whole gallery."

---