Page 108 of The Prize
What if the painting wasn’t even in here? What if Tobias was having Coops deliver it and I had no way of getting in touch with him. Unless... Tobias had programmed his number into my burner phone? No, Tobias had told me he didn’t want to implicate Coops or Marshall, and their roles were designed to protect them as well as him.
A flash of inspiration hit me. Entering my name on the left of the catch and his on the other side but this time abbreviating his to Toby. When that failed too, I stubbornly tried swapping them out—
The case clicked open and there came a jolt of victory. After throwing the lid back, I was staring atMona Lisa’sportrait adorned within a wooden gold frame. I froze in awe at the realness of Italian beauty Lisa Gherardini staring back at me.
Wow—
Mona Lisawas before me and her authentic appearance threw me for a second as I tried to grasp that she’d been created so fast. If I wanted proof no man would have been able to pull this off, all I had to do was remember she’d been created by a computer. Tobias’s hand was behind the technology, but this was an act of science, a natural philosophy that stretched the boundaries of what I’d believed possible.
This could work.No, it had to.
I carefully slid the painting into a pillowcase and with my mouth dry with nervousness, I left the penthouse and returned to my room. I hid the painting beneath my bedcovers in case Abby came to check on me.
The night would come and go but there’d be no sleep for me, merely pacing, my thoughts consumed with Tobias. All I could think of was how he was coping, what he was thinking and if he was going to be okay.
In a flash of panic my hand rested on the hotel phone as guilt possessed me for not contacting the police. This dread of making the right decision was tugging at every cell in my body until fatigue sent pain into my bones.
A compromise was needed; finding the hotel notepad, I wrote to Abby and left the message on the coffee table next to the wire she’d made me wear.
I’ll be in The Marlborough Suite. If anything happens to me, I went to meet with Eli Burell.
By 6:45 a.m. I was heading to Eli’s suite.
The painting was heavy despite her size and even if this had been the realMona Lisathat I’d shoved inside a pillowcase, I felt no guilt for exchanging her for Tobias. Seeing him safe was all I cared about and the need for reassurance that he’d not been hurt owned every thought. I willed myself not to show fear. More than anything, I’d come to terms with giving up on those precious paintings. He was worth my life and nothing was going to come between us.
My knock brought the sound of footsteps and the unlatching of a lock. The door shot open and I stared up at a burly man who I recognized as one of Eli’s guards. He’d been one of the thugs who’d beaten Tobias last night. My jaw tightened with a need to reciprocate the same kind of violence for what he’d done to my lover. I peered past his bulky frame into the suite.
“In,” he snapped.
Clutching the pillowcase to my chest, I made my way down the short hallway and entered the luxurious space and my gaze darted around for Tobias.
“Well, hello, Zara.” It was Eli appearing from a hallway and I’d never seen him casually dressed before, those jeans and that sweater disarming. That overly privileged fop of hair, a reminder of his cruel arrogance, caused bile to rise in my throat.
He looked astonished at the pillowcase. “No way.”
I stepped forward. “Where’s Mr. Wilder?”
“Well this is unexpected.”
Doubt circled my gut. “I need to see him first.”
“It doesn’t work like that.” He snatched the painting.
“It’s theMona Lisa,” I said. “I kept my end of the bargain.”
He reached inside and slid out the painting and dropped the pillowcase. As his gaze swept over the canvas, awe flashed over his face, morphing into cruel amusement. “She’s so small.”
“Tobias!” I called out. “I’m here.”
Eli set the painting on the table behind him. “I was expecting someone else.”
“I did the best I could.”
He smirked. “How did you pull this off?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Where’s Icon?”
