Page 113 of The Chase
Pouring rain chased after me as I hurried back down the steps. I moaned with the thought of Tobias transporting my paintings in this weather.
From the curb, I looked left and right and gestured to an approaching taxi.
Hands shaking as they grasped my phone, I tapped away until I’d brought up the number for New Scotland Yard.
Think!
Go straight to the police and they’d demand a statement and no doubt have more questions regarding that incident at Christie’s. That couldn’t happen. I needed the time and freedom to hunt down Tobias.
How would I prove they were once mine?
And why had Tobias betrayed me like this? Stolen them from right under my nose? I’d been stupid enough to trust him. Believe in the chemistry that had been laid at my feet as a trap. I cursed my stupidity for falling so hard and fast for him.
“Ma’am, everything okay?”
I stirred from this trance and came to inside the back of the large black cab I’d climbed into.
“I’m fine,” I told the driver. “Canary Wharf, please.”
“Have an address?” his Cockney accent reassured me he’d know the backstreets.
My fingers flew across the screen as I did a Google search. “I’m working on it.”
* * *
I found myself in front of a pristine black glass skyscraper that was crisscrossed with chrome. Wilder Tower was an imposing high-rise.
Crooking my neck, I guessed there was somewhere in the region of at least fifty floors to this building. I wiped rain from my eyes, vaguely aware I was drenched from head to toe.
The coldness soaked into my bones as I realized by the time I climbed those stairs, Tobias would have made his getaway.
If he was even here.
He could be boarding a plane right now and on his way to the States. With my paintings.
Stay focused.
Stepping inside, I clenched my teeth to endure the air-conditioning hitting my skin like broken shards of glass. These wet clothes clung with a cruel iciness.
Within this expansive foyer I could see the similarity with Tobias’s Oxford home. Pristine chrome fixtures were offset by a stark fluorescence. A minimalist approach to a vast lonely space. That high ceiling the final stamp of grandeur.
How could a man so wealthy need to steal anything?
Because owning a Michelangelo was the last vestige of greed, I painfully mused, a priceless piece unlike any other that could be bought and privately owned.
These steps toward the receptionist’s desk felt like the longest trek and as I looked around I knew the architect must have known Tobias well. This wide-open area reflected Tobias’s need to throw off his opponents and control his enemies.
Across the way, two burley guards held me in their gazes with a look of suspicion, probably wondering why a bedraggled woman had any right to hurry through the Wilder foyer.
“Do you have an appointment?” asked the young pretty receptionist.
My fingers traced over theGQmagazine on the counter, flaunting Tobias’s photo which was smack-dab on the cover and he looked so damn gorgeous, mocking me with his beauty in that usual arrogant, bespoke style.
The receptionist narrowed her gaze on me. “Miss?”
An unfamiliar burst of jealousy rose in my chest as I realized she’d see Tobias every day when he was in London, and perhaps, just perhaps she’d flirt a little.
“Yes.” I bit back my embarrassment of looking so bad.
