Page 20 of Painted in Sin

"I'm not the one who broke into your apartment, lady. And I'm not threatening you. The man who attacked you in your hotel room was hired. It wasn't me. Those photos were sent to me." His hands splay out, fingers spread and open, palms toward me. He's showing me he is empty handed, but it doesn't make my fight or flight response chill the fuck out.

"I don't believe you," I tell him, waving my arm at a cab I see nearing me. I step off the curb, onto the street. I just want to get away from him, get to Matthias so I can get answers.

"Costa paid your old man off, lady. Sprang him from the joint and gave him one job—steal that painting. Now they're in cahoots, and you're the patsy. Can't you see that? When they're done with you, you are in prison and they're free with the money and the paintings. Just hand it over and let me help you out of this mess." He takes a step forward, and I shiver with fear. He doesn't talk like an Interpol agent, and it adds credence to what Matthias said about him.

"You can't help me. Leave me alone." Looking up the street, I see Gerard out of his car, staring at me, arms folded over his chest as if he knows I’m not okay. He's poised to come after me if Marco makes a move.

"You're leaving me no choice, woman. When everyone finds out you are sleeping with the real art thief and that you forged paintings, they’ll never look at you as a credible source for authentication again. You're done for. I'm your only hope. Can't you see that?" He scowls, and I back away again, finally relieved to see a cab slowing and pulling over.

"Stay away from me, or I'll call the police," I tell him, but I’m not sure that will even help. I pull the door open and turn to climb in, and he calls after me.

"I'm warning you. Give me the real Raphael and no one gets hurt, Isabella. But if you ignore me, you're going to regret it."

Slamming the door, I bark at the driver, "San Camillo, now." He peels out and leaves Marco in the dust and my head spinning.

This is all too much for me, so much more dangerous than the scheme I got lost in with Nicola. If I find out it's true that Victor paid to get Nicola out of jail and then hired him to lift artwork, I don't know how I'll react. I just have to get to the real Interpol agent—the one I can trust—and get his advice on what I can do. He said trust no one, not even him. But that means I have to rely on myself, and I'm not sure I know how to get a check mate.

16

VICTOR

Side by side, the paintings would reveal the truth. One of them is a fake. Together, however, they will never be. Isabella has outdone herself this time, taking the Sister of Mourning painting to the next level by showing how she's perfected Raphael's style and even the weight of his brush strokes. Framed similarly to the original, this forgery will pass muster, and when it's finally in my possession and Antony fences it, Giani won't be able to sell the original for fear of losing his reputation when he finds out Isabella has directly disobeyed his order to display the original and put it in the vault overnight.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I recognize the voice but don't turn to look at the man. Judging by the volume, I'd say he stands just out of line of sight to my left where he can see the painting but not be picked up on the camera. It's wise of him, especially with what we have planned.

"She is a beautiful artist, very skilled," I respond, knowing to whom I speak. He may have had her at one point, but she belongs to me now, even if she doesn't know it yet.

"I want my cut," he says curtly, almost cutting me off.

I remain calm and neutral. I knew this time would come, and I've been waiting for it. When you pay authorities enough money to spring an inmate then force him to do that which he's best at, he tends to get curious about his cut. Nicola Vitale thinks he deserves more than his freedom, and that's okay. He has the right to his own opinion, but not my money.

"You're breathing right now. That's your cut." Sliding my hands into my pants pockets, I continue to watch the painting. I've given my orders, and he knows he belongs to me now to do my bidding. I may be twisting the knife a little, but a man's freedom is essential. Without it, he would languish behind bars wasting away until death. Thanks to me, he gets to see the light of day every day now.

"I am not your pawn, Costa. I know the frame holds uncut gems, and I know you are going to make a killing. I want my cut."

Lucky for me, Mr. Vitale is a slow learner. He's come to this knowledge even more slowly than I have, and because of it my painting, and the precious frame my father insists is worth more, are safe. Had he known about the diamonds when he lifted it, he would never have given it to me.

"Your cut is to be out of prison and alive. Don't tempt me to make either of those things change." I flick a glance at him and dip my chin. "The sister will be in my hands in the next two hours or you will go back to prison. Do you remember how you got out?" I can't see him, but I know where he's standing. I know the blind spots in this gallery better than anyone. I've studied them thanks to the stream my men provided for me to watch Isabella.

He huffs, and I hear him growl in frustration. "They're stolen from a World War II family, Costa. Powerful Europeans. Yourfamily stole them and hid them in the frame. I know more than you think." I bristle at his words but keep my expression placid. Perhaps he knows more than me for now, but the power is still all mine and I'm not letting him even think he'll win.

"If you bring me the sister when I requested it, we'll talk. Maybe one percent… Or maybe I'll let you live." My chest tightens at the idea that there are more secrets behind these paintings than I could ever have imagined. I wonder if my father knows the diamonds were stolen. I have to look into this, and I have a historian who can help me identify facts for accuracy's sake. I won't just take Vitale's word on it.

It's bad enough the secrets hidden in his past have gotten me tangled up with someone I know has been threatening Isabella. This man and his corrupt friend, Marco Gallo, are trying my patience.

"And if I don't?" he asks calmly, a challenge. I'm tempted to look him in the eye as I respond.

"Then I will hunt you down and make you wish you were never born, and don't think I'm unable to do that." My patience has gone. I'm not interested in conversing with an extortionist. I know what sort of man he is and I knew it before I sprang him. He's going to do as I say or he's going to regret it.

"Bring it to me and we'll talk." I turn and walk away knowing he has his marching orders. Isabella and Paolo are in their workstation. Giani is God only knows where, probably sniffing around behind a wealthy heiress or something. And I'm headed to my car where I can wait for Vitale to bring me the artwork I know will fetch me millions.

I feel badly that it'll pinch Isabella a little, force her hand into something darker than she desires for her future, but we all play a part in this game. And if she plays her cards right, when I really do go straight and turn my family's bad name into something of reputation, I'll take her along with me.

As I stroll through the front doors, I hear the faint hum of the silent alarm being tripped before the shouting of voices. Nicola Vitale is my hands and feet, the black fingers of death to the art world, but the ray of sunshine that signifies hope to the rest of the world.

I can't allow thieves to lay hands on my frame now that I know it's loaded with precious gems, which is why I've targeted the Sister of Mourning painting. Its frame is valueless, only a shell to display the real gem of Isabella's talent. Later, when I have the authentic Raphael back in my diamond frame, I can house it safely in my home and sell the forgery via Antony. For now, I will wait for word from Vitale that the work is finished and finally be able to valuate Isabella's work.

If she's as good as I believe, we have a definite future.

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