Page 97 of The Prize
“I’m sorry, really I am.” I felt her scrutiny as she read my expression.
Abby rubbed between my chest to check the wire. “Did Wilder tell you he’d get your paintings back?” She whispered into my ear, “Is Wilder Icon?”
“Are you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Well, that’s how it feels when you’re accused of something.” My gaze dropped to the carpet because I couldn’t let her see the truth.
She looked around for my purse and saw it resting on the coffee table. She opened it and reached inside, pulling out my phone. “What’s this?”
“It’s temporary.”
“I can see that. Where’s yours?” She placed the burner phone on the table. “Anyway, you won’t need it.”
She’d just prevented me from texting Wilder to warn him I was wearing this.
She handed me my purse. “I’m going to help you put your life back together. I’m doing it for Adley because he asked me.”
“You liked me once.”
“Whatever reason you’ve got for keeping shit from the good guys is going to backfire. Honesty is always the best way.”
“Abby, I’m not going to forget Elliot Burell has my paintings. No matter how inconvenient it is to Huntly Pierre. You’re the one who told me the FBI had found them in Arizona.”
“A lot has changed since then. Look, Burell denies they’re part of your father’s collection.”
“Consider the source.”
“Your father filed an insurance claim. Millions were payed out. Why not just let it go?”
Let them go...
My mouth went dry with the thought of losing them forever.
“Ready?” she snapped.
I gave a wary nod and followed her out, and as we rode the elevator down in silence the tension rose. Abby stared ahead ignoring me. I reassured myself this was a good thing as she’d not see my rising discomfort of being trapped in this claustrophobic box.
“You’re going to be okay, Zara,” she muttered. “You’re set to inherit a lot of money next year. Looks like you’ll be set for life.”
“Did Adley tell you that?”
She shrugged. “I’m an investigator.”
Such a violation of my privacy made me feel off kilter but despite everything I had to focus on tonight.
Out of the lift I calmed a little until I remembered Eli would be checking into this hotel later. Even though we’d be surrounded by people, knowing he could be in The Plaza sent me reeling.
When we turned the corner, and made a beeline for the Terrace Room, I needed a second to catch my breath. The vast ballroom was a statement of all that was lavish with its white and gold, with splendorous towering pillars, and ornate ceiling inlaid with dramatic art. As we made our way in, I admired the swooping chandeliers shining upon the glamorous guests of men dressed in their tailored black tuxedos and the flowing gowns of the women with their blinding diamonds to scare off the ordinary.
And there they were—
Brother Bay’s stunning paintings, all ten of them, were resting upon easels at the front of the ballroom, and they all exuded an ethereal beauty with the subjects looking out at us with a startling consciousness that thesfumatotechnique always delivered. All of them offered a tenacious honesty.
Later, while many of the city’s art dealers would be distracted in here, Tobias would be entertaining Eli in the Rose Club.
Wilder’s web weaved the darkest ruse.
