Page 38 of Painted in Sin

"Yes, absolutely. I'll have Paolo prepare it and make sure it's delivered here before close of business. Thank you so much for allowing me to review such an exquisite work of art." Isabella smiles softly, and her feminine touch seems to soften my father's rough edges a little. He grunts and nods, now looking down at the diamonds in his hands.

"Yes, well I'm not sure I had a choice in the matter," he grumbles as he sets the diamonds on the old Victorian coffee table and returns to his armchair and cigar. "When Victor gets something in his head to do, he is like a greyhound chasing a rabbit." My father nods at the sofa, and both of us take a seat as we wait for the maid to bring brunch for us to enjoy. My arm stays firmly around Isabella's shoulders the entire time, which doesn't seem to please my father much, but he's always been an implacable man.

Isabella clings to me hesitantly. I can sense her nervousness around my father, whose reputation precedes him more loudly than mine does me. He can be over the top and a bit intimidating for sure. I ease into the cushion next to her and pat her arm comfortingly as he stares at her for a moment, taking a long drag on his cigar as if he disapproves of our closeness. But he's not here to judge my relationship status. I know he came for two reasons—the diamonds, and an update on a task I requested he take care of for me since I was too busy chasing legends to handle it myself.

"So, the painting?" I say, and I see the recognition in his eyes as he nods a few times.

"Yes, the countryside… What did you call that again?" His eyebrows rise again, and he takes another long drag from his cigar, this time holding the smoke in his cheeks and letting it puff out in rings that swirl as they rise to the ceiling.

"I didn't…" I glance at Isabella, who is clueless about it all. "The artist usually names it." A small smile begins to creep across my face as I turn back to hear what he's got to say.

"Well, it went for three million, so I need to know whom to make the check out to. My fee is, of course, twenty percent, but at that price it's pocket change, really." My father gestures with his cigar, and the smoke twists and winds like a snake in the air.

"Well, Bella? What do you call it?" She looks up at me with narrowed eyes, sitting a bit straighter in the seat.

"Call what?" she asks, looking back and forth between my father and me.

"The painting… of the countryside. Your memory of your grandfather's house. What do you call it?" I'm giddy withexcitement for her reaction. She has no idea I've taken her painting and tried to sell it, but it only proves that her work is excellent enough to put her on the map. For a woman like Isabella, just one painting has set her up for life. She can do anything she wants, but when people find out one painting went for that much, they'll come running for anything else she creates.

"Mine?" At first, concern etches her brow in deep lines. Then she relaxes and stares at my father.

"Well, yes. My buyer out of Paris says it's on par with the greats. You really painted that painting?" And like magic, a switch flips between them. I see the admiration and respect in his eyes as he peers at her over his cigar, which he brings to his mouth again.

"Victor…" she breathes, turning to me.

"So I had him sell it. You're allowed to be angry with me." I smile at her and playfully kiss her lips. "I knew it was worth something, and now you have proof that other people will love your work as much as I do."

Her hand flutters upward to cover her mouth as tears brim in her eyes. "I can't believe this," she mutters, shaking her head.

"Well, believe it," Papà says, chuckling. "And while we're on the topic, I'm going to need one of your cards. I believe I'd like you to run our entire authentication department." His eyes narrow on me. "That is, if you'll join us. I have a fantastic plan."

His grin says it all—the musings of decades of his life are coming to fruition before our eyes and right in step with my thoughts of reinventing this entire family. It feels so good to know my father and I are on the same page without even speaking in detail.

Isabella blinks and tears drip down her cheeks. "Uh, my purse," she mumbles, and I nod at the stairs.

"On the bedside table. But be quick. They'll bring brunch soon, and we have so many details to discuss." I kiss her lightly before she stands and dashes off, then lean forward, planting my elbows on my knees. "You'll really do this? Bring her into the fold? You know she'll want to partner with us, Papà. She won't be silent…"

"Nor should she be," he says, turning to tap his cigar on the ashtray and roll it around to keep his cherry intact. "You know, your mother loved art too. I've never met a modern artist as skilled or passionate about her art as her. Isabella reminds me of her, you know."

All I can do is sit back and marvel at the change in my father. He's a stoic man, not concerned with love or romance much at all. But hearing him talk about my mother brings up feelings of nostalgia.

"I didn't know. You don't speak of her much." I hear the door upstairs shut, and I’m eager to have Isabella by my side again.

"Oh, yes. She loved art and everything cultured. She's the reason I am who I am today, Victor." He points two fingers at me, cigar pinched between them. "You might just be carrying on her legacy, as if Ms. De Luca is the embodiment of everything your mother would've wanted for you."

I sit back and revel in the warm emotions swelling inside my chest. It feels like the stars have aligned and finally, life is beginning to make sense. I can't wait to see what the future brings.

31

ISABELLA

Islide the last of my things into a crate and sigh as I look around the workstation, sad I'm going to miss this place a lot. Paolo and I have shared such good times here. We've made memories and bonded like siblings. His influence in my life changed and shaped me in ways I didn't expect, and I'm going to miss him too.

"Are you sure you won't reconsider?" I ask him, pressing again for him to come join me at Il Nuovo Studio, Victor and Emilio's joint venture they've allowed me to partner with them on.

Paolo stands across the table with paintbrush in hand, hovering over a canvas he's restoring. The cleaning solution drips to his palm below and he shakes his head, quite happy with where he's at.

"No, Bella, I'm very content here. I think it's amazing what you're doing and I am so proud of you. But this is my home. Mr. Giani promoted me, thanks to everything you've taught me. I think I'm going to be quite content here for a while, still learning. But I want to come visit. And I want to see more of that incredible art!" Paolo beams with pride as I walk around the endof the table and throw my arms around him, giving him a huge but chaste kiss on the cheek.

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