Page 75 of The Chase
He glanced over at Andrew, who was still standing respectfully at the back of the room. Tobias gave him a reassuring smile. “Looks like a fake.”
I gripped Tobias tightly, hating this lie and feeling this betrayal ofSt. Joantwisting my heart. My fingers curled in his shirt as I silently pleaded with him to let me take her home.
But she wasn’t mine anymore. Someone else had claimed her. Someone who must know the truth.
“Zara, we’re leaving,” he said. “We’ll head out gracefully. Speak to no one.”
Another nod as I crushed against his side, his arm wrapping around me as he led me toward the door.
We walked past Andrew and the woman beside him, a fortysomething curator with overly bleached blond hair and her concerned expression following us out.
Tobias snapped a command into his phone. “Bring the car round.” He shoved it back into his pocket.
Out through the empty auction room, down the hallway, Tobias offering a polite smile to everyone we walked past.
The chill of the night met us when we stepped outside.
Puffing out cold air, proving autumn was barely holding on before winter.
That familiar silver Bentley pulled up to the curb and we hurried into the backseat. I recognized Cooper.
I sank low into the leather, shivering, my hand cupping my mouth to hold back the sobs.
Cooper gave a kind smile in the rearview. “Where to, boss?”
“Ms. Leighton’s place.” Tobias pulled me into a hug. “Fast as you can.”
I managed to make it to my apartment before breaking down.
Vaguely, I was aware Tobias had followed me into my flat, but I was too busy crying into my pillow to give him much thought.
My dad had stood right beside me the night of the fire and together we’d watched our home go up in flames. We’d silently begged the firemen to move faster, save what they could. But afterward when the wreckage was examined, there came the awful realization the rest of the paintings were gone. Only the ones we’d managed to carry out had survived.
How had I not seen through his lie?
I’d stood right by his side outside the gate, both of us shaken from sleep, caught up in terror at what we saw. Our lives had gone up in flames.
Were there more paintings out there?
I’d trusted Dad more than anyone. He’d lovingly called me his “angel.” Yet he’d betrayed me like I’d never meant anything to him. Left me with nothing but a legacy of shame. With him gone it would be me who would have to face the art world, the press and the inevitable fallout.
My life was over.
“Can I come in?” Tobias stood in the doorway.
My answer caught in my throat and to hide my embarrassment I buried my face into my tear-soaked pillow.
The bed dipped and I felt him sit close. “Made you some tea,” he said softly.
“Don’t deserve a cup of tea.”
“Zara, the painting hasn’t been authenticated—”
“I recognized it.”
“Well, maybe your dad sold it before the fire? Perhaps he didn’t tell you?”
I lifted my face and stared at him, swiping at tears. “He ran his fingers through the ashes of whereSt. Joanhad once hung and sobbed his precious painting was gone.”
