Page 74 of Boss Abroad

I do and am confronted with at least half a dozen of my mom’s paintings. I’d recognize them anywhere, but I still question my eyes and my sanity.

“Callista Marie Maverick. Are those…” I can’t put it into words. It’ll turn it into a possibility. And once I’ve considered it, it’ll plant a dream into my mind. One I’ve never dared to contemplate. “They can’t be.”

“They are. But you know what really got me?”

I’m speechless. I’m unable to put a sentence together. My brain has gone rogue and I’ve lost control of it. I cannot think straight. I cannot think, period. Callie never depends on other people to carry on with a conversation, and she wouldn’t start now.

“Here, babe.” She brings the camera closer to the right lower corner of one painting. Then to another. And another. “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“How many are there?” That’s it. That’s all I could muster together.

“Thirteen.”

I gasp. Loud. My mouth is so dry I almost choke on how raspy it feels to inhale that much air in one go. “He’s mental.”

“The best of them are, babe. You did good, girl.”

I drop my arm and march to Liam’s office. Callie is shouting something, but it passes right through me. How did he? And why?

When I get to his floor, I’m greeted by Mia.

“Hi, Dr. Hadden!” On a good day, I have trouble matching her perkiness. Right now, I wouldn’t dare try. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Not really, but I just need a minute.”

“You know what, pretend I wasn’t here and walk right in. I’ll make myself scarce.” She winks and leaves her desk, giving me more amicability than I’ve earned.

I don’t have enough brainpower to overthink things, so I just go ahead and knock on Liam’s door.

“Come in.” His voice is terse and unwelcoming, contradicting his invitation.

I open the door a few inches, squeeze through it, and then question myself. Why did I just make myself smaller? “Hi.”

His deep frown smoothes as soon as he lays eyes on me. “That’s a pleasant surprise. Hello, Doctor.” Dropping his pen, he pushes his chair back and takes me in. Before he pulls that half-smile move on me and kills half of my brain cells, I march to his desk and put my phone right in front of his face.

“Why? How?” I don’t mean to sound accusatory, but it comes across that way.

Callie’s high pitch confirms that I didn’t think this through. “Hi, Liam. Nice meeting you. Dude, I’ve heard so much about you.”

His eyes twinkle with mischief and flicker to mine. “Oh, have you? Do tell.”

“Callie, show it again.” I pull back the phone just in time to catch her signature eye-roll. She can do a one-eighty and her eyes go completely white. It’s full on, a bit scary and very Callie.

“Fine,” she grumbles, but turns the camera from her to my mother’s paintings. The ones my father tainted all those years ago with his ugly signature. The ones appraised at tens of millions of dollars and I made peace with never laying eyes on again.

Those ones.

They are sitting at my best friend's apartment back in New York. Waiting for me.

I turn the phone back to Liam. “Did you buy them?”

His chuckle is sharp and short. “Fuck no. He stole them. So did I.”

My arm flaps. Oh, fuck. That’s literally a crime scene then.

It’s my turn to laugh now. Hysterically. I feel it brewing in the depths of my loins, untangling the mess of knots in my stomach as it makes its way to freedom up my throat. “You did what?”

“Seemed only fitting.” He stands and takes slow, measured steps towards me. “He robbed you of what was left of her. But now you have thirteen of her canvases. When you go back home, you can hang them up in your apartment and surround yourself with her presence.”

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