Page 2 of The Prize
“We’ll find them.” He’d sensed my thoughts were on them again. “We’ll put this right.”
Am I naive to believe him?
“Zara, have you thought any more about my suggestion?”
It was out of the question for me to surrender and let the blame fall on him. He’d been willing to throw himself onto his sword; at least he’d stated as much when he’d seen how torn up I was on the plane.
I’d gotten to a place where I could talk with him again. I wrapped my arms around myself. “I wish it was possible to let them go.” Yet my agony was real when I thought of allowing my dad’s art collection to fade into the past.
“Zara, this is more than us recovering them. This is getting justice for Burell destroying your home and inflicting pain on your father. On you. He believes he’s won.”
My gaze locked with his as I conveyed the silent message,Revenge for you too, Tobias, for Burell bringing down your plane and murdering your family.
He answered with a nod. “I want my life back too.”
My stare caught the portrait of Rubens again and his eerie focus. “Is it even possible?”
“We proceed toward the life we want. The future we deserve.” His hand rested on the lower arch of my spine. “Do you remember the plan?”
His plan was insanity.
This evening’s event had fed his obsession with danger.
“Give me the chance to prove I can solve this.” His tone had a husky allure.
Maybe he was right, maybe he could. “More smoke and mirrors?”
“If necessary.”
I ran my fingers over my short bobbed wig, glad that it hid my long auburn locks making me unrecognizable.
“You make a stunning blonde.” He reached up and ran a strand between his fingers. “Very convincing.”
I marveled that my life had now been reduced to me wearing a disguise and joining forces with Icon.
I’ve lost my way.
No, not joining forces, I reassured myself. I’m keeping watch over him and can turn this man in at any time.He knew this, of course, I could see it in his gaze as that familiar veil of his secret life occluded him once more.
“Ready?” He gestured to the door.
We made our way out and into the grand foyer, and Tobias helped me with my long black coat. He grabbed his masquerade mask off the foyer table and we stepped out into the crisp autumn air. The sting of a November night made its way into my lungs. I glanced left and then right down Sixty-Ninth Street, orientating myself to this remarkable city.
We walked toward the blue Aston Martin parked out front and Tobias pressed his thumb to the passenger door to open it for me. I climbed in and sank into the luxury leather seat of his stylish Vanquish S. He rounded the car and got in beside me, starting the engine by using his thumb on the ignition pad. He steered the car away from the curb and into traffic.
“Whose house are we staying in?” I’d already asked him this but Wilder had avoided the question. “Tobias, who are you protecting?”
“It was my grandmother’s.” He didn’t break his stare from the road. “The artwork will make its way to a new gallery I’m opening in the Bronx. Well, it was before all this.”
“You didn’t tell me you were opening a new gallery.”
His shrug revealed he had the same wariness of me that I had of him.
“Your grandmother doesn’t mind us staying there?”
“She died a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
