Page 150 of One Wrong Move

“I think it’s suspicious. The provenance story he told me sounds perfectly crafted to get gullible buyers to accept the lack of a legitimate record, and the painting is from a time when Covey did mostly orange abstracts and, very rarely, blues. It just… all of it sounds dubious.”

Nate nods and looks out toward the tight boxwood hedge that keeps his backyard fenced. “Right. But you know I’m not really buying this piece because of its artistic properties.”

“Nate, you can’t ignore it. You can’t.”

He looks at me for a long moment, and there’s frustration in his eyes. “If I don’t, and if I intimate to Knudsen that it’s because I suspect his nephew is a fraud, Contron won’t get the contract. He’s made it very clear that helping his nephew is the last step.”

“Then he’s a bully, and that’s a bribe.”

Nate laughs. It’s not a happy sound. “That’s my line of work, baby. Contron gets what it wants, either through compliments or careful coercion. Buying a painting from someone’s nepotistic nephew is probably the least dirty thing we’ve done to secure access.”

“He is a scammer. You buying it from him, with your stellar record of art purchases, will legitimize him.” My voice is shaking from how strong I feel about this. Art fraud might not be serious in the grand scheme of things, at least amid all of the world’s horrors. But it’s one I personally hate. It’s leeching off real artists’ names, using that to feed personal greed.

It’s nothing more than a pretty lie.

“Harper,” he says with a groan. Runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t agree with you. It’s that what you’re asking… it would undo almost a year of work.”

“It’s also the right thing to do.” I push off the bench and close the distance between us. Grab his hands and hold them between mine. “I know you’re not the kind of man who would turn a blind eye when someone’s breaking a law just for profit.”

“You know,” he repeats with a curl of his lips. “I’ve done a lot of things over the past twenty years to make Contron successful. A lot of things to make…”

He doesn’t finish, but I hear what he doesn’t say. To please others. His father. Maybe his brother, too?

“Fucking hell. You’re gonna make me lose a deal that could make my company millions,” he mutters.

A pang of guilt flashes through me. “I won’t. Your own morals will.”

“My morals,” he says. His eyes search mine, and there’s a cool resignation there. “I have been very immoral, Harper.”

I swallow. “I don’t believe it.”

“Lusting after my friend’s fiancée wasn’t immoral?” His hand leaves mine to cup the side of my face, and he brushes his thumb against my lower lip. “Because it felt immoral, to have those thoughts about you, when you weren’t mine.”

I can’t speak. Can’t find the words.

His smile turns rueful. “I won’t rush you. Don’t worry. But if you tell me I’m not a bad man, well… wanting you has always been proof that I am.”

“You’re not,” I breathe.

“I won’t buy the Covey,” he says. “Do you want me to give the police a call? Is it at that stage?”

“It might be. If there’s already an ongoing investigation, you could add your statements to it.”

“Then I will,” he says.

“What about the deal? Don’t you think that there’s a way to… I don’t know. To convince that Danish businessman that you still value his company?”

Nate’s smile widens. “I love your optimism sometimes. No, Knudsen doesn’t give a fuck about art. He wants to help his wife’s nephew establish a career, and I’ll undermine that. No, I think the deal will be pretty shot.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re right. It wouldn’t be an ethical move.” He wraps his arms tightly around my waist and sighs. I feel the movement through his chest, resting under my ear, and breathe in deep. He smells good. “Coming home to you is becoming my favorite part of every day. Even when you tell me things I don’t want to hear.”

I make a small humming sound against his chest. Him coming home is rapidly becoming my favorite part, too.

It’s a scary realization…

And a wonderful one.

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