Page 43 of The Chase
I eased out and stood facing Tobias again and stared directly into his eyes. “For the record, Mr. Wilder.”
“Yes?”
“It’s neverjusta painting.”
He pulled off his scarf and placed it around my neck, and then used it to pull me closer to him. Tobias leaned in and kissed my forehead.
This man’s allure was unending, and as I closed my eyes I allowed myself this one last moment of his affection, a ripple of excitement.
He broke away.
Trying not to swoon, I remained still as he wrapped that soft scarf snuggly around my neck, weaving it neatly around my throat.
“That was quite the adventure,” I said.
“Yes, it was.”
I climbed in, dragging my gaze from his, and settled in the backseat, the scent of leather filled the car, the welcome warmth of the heating having been on for a while. Relief washed over me when I saw my handbag on the backseat. My house keys were in there. Cooper had obviously stopped by Tobias’s house to grab it for me. Though my car keys were still back at his place.
I peeled off my mask and rested it near my bag.
Tobias shut the car door and headed away with his hands tucked inside his pockets. I watched him stroll over to his Aston Martin. He opened the door and climbed in.
I breathed a sigh of relief he wasn’t going back into the palace. Our Bentley pulled away.
Tobias’s Aston Martin sped past us and raced on ahead; leaves and debris spun out behind his car. This dreamy sense of having been caught up in his world had left me remarkably untainted.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m afraid I live in Notting Hill. It’s a bit of a drive.”
“I have your address, ma’am,” soothed Cooper in his American accent and he smiled at me in the rearview. “Got you up on the GPS.”
“You know my address?”
“Of course.”
“How?”
“My boss, ma’am.”
“Call me Zara.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
I was too exhausted to correct him. “How does Mr. Wilder know where I live?”
“I believe he obtained it from your company.” Cooper must have read my dazed expression because he added, “Mr. Wilder wanted to make sure you got home okay.”
Peering into the night, I took in the rolling fields now covered in a blanket of sprawling mist, obscuring those large lakes from view.
I’d probably never see Tobias again. The mission accomplished.
The client seemingly happy.
And then I realized as I spun round in my seat to look back at that striking palace fast fading on the horizon—
Tobias had forgotten to ask me if the painting was real.
8
