Page 29 of Painted in Sin

I rush into the workstation and see Mr. Giani and Paolo already setting up the painting. He's not smart enough to recognize that it's a forgery, and for that I'm grateful. I have time to swap out the canvas with the authentic one easily, but Victor's warning is more pressing.

“Mr. Giani, Paolo,” I say, my voice tense. “There’s another credible threat." My lip trembles as I speak, not sure if he will believe me.

Mr. Giani looks up from the canvas, brow furrowing slightly. “What kind of threat?”

I glance around quickly, lowering my voice. “I can’t go into details, but we can’t be too careful tonight. We need to secure the paintings.”

Paolo looks alarmed, clearly unsettled by the urgency in my voice. “What do you mean? Is someone?—”

“It doesn’t matter,” I cut him off, moving closer to the painting. Paolo looks hurt, but I need our boss to listen to me. “We just need to make sure everything’s locked down in here. I’m going to authenticate this and get it off the table for now.”

Mr. Giani sighs and stands straighter, his voice calm as ever. “Isabella, knock off the drama. We have a gallery to run. Do your job and authenticate the painting. No one is going to come near this gallery again with Interpol all over the place. I'll have another expert come in tomorrow to double-check your work.”

His words sting more than they should. I swallow down my frustration, pushing it aside. This is bigger than him and hisorders. If he'd only have listened to Victor's warning the first time, maybe that crooked Interpol agent would have gotten the message.

“If you’d have followed my instructions and put it in the vault like I told you,” he adds, his tone sharp, “none of this would be happening.”

I bite my lip, holding back a retort. I hate that he switches the story so easily, as if he knew all along what would happen. He is stubborn and infuriating, and more and more, I'm hating the idea of working here for the rest of my life. I give a curt nod and press my lips into a thin line, waiting until he leaves to exhale.

Paolo starts to ask a question, but I ignore him, already pulling my phone from my pocket. My fingers are quick as I swipe to Matthias’s name in my contacts, my mind still racing through everything. I move to the corner of the room, trying to focus.

The phone rings once, twice, and then I hear his voice, weak but familiar. “Isabella?” Matthias coughs lightly, and I can hear the roughness in his voice.

I pace over to the far side of the workstation, trying to put some distance between myself and Paolo, who’s already starting to ask questions. “Matthias, it’s me,” I say, trying to keep my voice level, but the tension is already in my chest, tightening. “Listen, I need your help.”

“What’s going on?” His voice is quiet, but I can tell he’s still trying to stay alert, despite whatever he’s going through right now.

“I’ve got a problem. Marco Gallo… he’s planning to steal both paintings tonight. He’s coming back for them.” There’s a long pause on the other end, and I find myself pacing

“What do you mean he’s coming back?” Matthias finally asks, his voice still hoarse but sharper now. I can almost hear the thoughts running through his head. “How do you know this?”

I stop pacing for a moment, leaning against the counter. “I don’t know, exactly, but I’m sure of it. He’s been pushing me to authenticate the paintings, and now, I’m certain he’ll try to take them tonight. He’s coming back for them." I don't let on that I'm working with Victor Costa. God only knows what trouble that would get me into.

Matthias lets out a slow breath, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the quiet hum of the phone. “Don’t give him anything,” Matthias says firmly. “I wish I could get to you, but I can't. They’ve taken me off the case."

I lock my eyes on Paolo as Matthias continues, unraveling details about my father, about how he was trying to work with Interpol to stop men like Gallo from getting the paintings. He tells me details about the diamonds and the frame, and my mind is spinning as I take it all in. One thing is for sure. Gallo is not getting these paintings or their frames. I'm going to see to it.

And when this is all over with, I'm done. I want no part of this life anymore. I can't take it anymore.

24

VICTOR

Rocco stands by the window staring out at the street, and I pace in front of the fireplace while I sip my whiskey. Things are falling into place, lining up so we can stop Gallo and the men who twist the knife in his back. I've done my research on him. He's not a monster. He's just a poor soul who found himself at the end of a short rope which the actors moving to take what's mine will hang him by if he slips up. I intend to help him slip up.

"We're ready when you are, Boss." Rocco's reminder of what's at stake tonight pauses me mid-stride.

"The team is ready?" My eyes scan the empty room thinking about how only moments ago, it hosted several of my lieutenants who are prepared to do whatever I ask of them tonight. None of them really realize the significance of this, not even Rocco. To them it's another attempted art heist on a painting that has been stolen more times than anyone can count, all because of a legend that wasn't ever really meant to be leaked.

"What gives, Victor? I get the painting is important, but first you ask me for an X-ray machine, and now you're going to send halfthe family into a war over some canvas with ink on it." Rocco scrubs a hand over his stubbled face and shakes his head. "I don't get it."

I can't be angry at his ignorance and apathy. If it were just a painting, I'd feel the same irritation at the men trying to get at it. But it’s so much more. More than any of us ever realized, and now that I know the truth about the history of my family and how the alignment of those frames will change the future for us all, I can't unknow it. I can't unsee it.

I suck in a breath and turn to face him, blowing it out slowly. "The painting is only part of the story, Rocco. I'm going to let you in on some of these details, but only so that you don't fuck this up." Turning, I set my drink on the mantel and lean on it with both hands. "My father has kept secrets from us, a lot of them."

"And?" Rocco stands next to me, staring at me. If he is to put his life on the line for something, he has a right to know what that something is.

"And…" I glance up at him. "The secrets will change everything. The frame isn't just full of diamonds," I tell him, flicking my wrist. He didn't know about them, but his eyes don't light up with surprise, which means he understands it's far more important than that. "There is a pattern inked into the frame which can only be seen under certain lights. Along with the frame of The Sister of Mourning, the hidden ink reveals a map to something far more important than even the uncut diamonds stolen from an affluent family during World War II."

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