Page 5 of Cruel Secrets

I get out of the car and the driver takes off, honking to me before turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

Kat sighs, tucking her auburn curls behind one ear. “One of these days, I think I’m going to have to get my own driver. Trying to take the subway is hell these days.”

“Wouldn’t that ruin the whole starving artist thing you keep up?” I chuckle and hop over the low fence and into the yard, grinning when Kat’s duck toller runs up to me, her tail going wild. “Margritte, look at you.”

Margritte jumps up, paws hitting me in the stomach as her pink tongue lolls out of the side of her mouth.

I run my fingers through her fur before nodding to the envelope in Kat’s hands. “Are those the pictures of the Rembrandt?”

She glances around like she thinks we’re being watched before handing it over. “I wish that you would find another way to get the pictures you need. We’re going to get caught one of these days.”

“You restore paintings for museums all over the world. Who else am I going to get that’s close enough to the paintings to take the kind of pictures I need?”s

The corner of her mouth twitches. “You know, sometimes I think you might be using me for my access.”

Smirking, I slide my finger beneath the flap of the envelope, loosening the seal. “I’m friends with you because you’re the greatest person I’ve ever met. Your job just benefits us both.”

She shrugs one shoulder. “My cut isn’t too bad.”

“Noah’s cut could be lower,” I say, my voice a low grumble as I flip through the images to make sure they’re of all the angles I need. “One of these days, I’m going to cut him out of the deal completely.”

“You should have done that a long time ago.” Kat pushes off the fence, bending down to grab the blue squeaky ball Margritte spits out at her feet.

She tosses the ball to the other end of the yard, grinning when the dog takes off at a sprint to get the ball before it rolls beneath the rosebushes.

Kat’s attention drifts back to me, her eyes narrowing with the stern look she’s been giving me since high school when she used to drag me home from parties. “I think you should put some more thought into opening your own studio. I know you have more than enough money hidden away.”

“Sure, I’ll just tell Noah that he no longer controls my life, Zoe’s, or my mother’s.” I give her a flat look, putting the pictures back into the envelope. “You know that’s never going to happen. He’s been nothing but a control freak since my father died, and now that he’s finally crawled back out to keep up with this damned war, I really can’t pull away.”

“Gia, I know you have no problem with living in the Rinaldo shadow for the rest of your life, but that’s not you. Your father hid you away for years.”

“He did. Noah decided that we weren’t going to be doing that anymore, which means that I need to keep playing my part until I can make a name for myself one of these days.”

“I only want what’s best for you.” She stoops to grab the ball and toss it again.

“I know.” I tug her into a side hug before letting her go as Margritte comes crashing back into my legs. “And I appreciate that, but for right now, I need to play nice with Noah. I need his connection to the dealers and the money launderers.”

“I know. I really do think you should still consider striking out on your own despite that. You could open your own gallery and sell your own paintings instead of spending hours a day recreating others’.”

My chest tightens.

Kat has a point. I have more than enough money squirreled away to open my own gallery and spend the rest of my life painting what I want, but there’s always a worry in the back of my mind that life is going to fall apart.

It has before, and it will again.

Even if I could get away without Noah noticing, he would hunt me down. I know too much about his work to let me slip through his fingers. I know about the connections he has and the way his entire organization could be brought to its knees.

I have the power to ruin him and he isn’t going to allow me to walk away.

“Noah has an entire life behind him. He’s forty-three. You’re still young and you have a future to think about, but you keep giving in to what he wants. It’s the same thing your mother does.”

The words are sharp like a butcher knife, slicing through me with their weight, though they leave me with jagged edges.

I scowl at her, tucking the envelope beneath one arm. “Mom does what she can. You know that she had to rely on Noah a lot after Dad was killed. Noah was the one keeping the family together.”

“And you complain all the time that you wish she would just turn her back on him and live her own life.”

“There are a thousand different circumstances that differ between me and Mom. She could happily go live on some island in the Caribbean or South America and never have to worry about anything again. I still need him.”

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