Page 36 of An Heir For Her Enemy

But Logan knew that would be nothing more than empty words. He didn’t know if things would be okay. He wasn’t able to sort things out together, not when his highest priority was, and always would be, his company.

So, he stayed quiet. It was better not to say anything than to give her false promises. When he was young, his parents had always promised him the world, but they’d never been able tofollow through. It hadn’t been their fault. Every penny either of his parents earned went to food and housing, not to the remote-controlled airplane that Logan had wanted for Christmas or the textbook he’d needed for high school statistics. Logan didn’t blame his parents, but living with them had shown him that promises didn’t mean anything.

The drive to Marco’s house seemed to take hours, although it must have been much less, since the driver managed to get them there almost on time. Logan handed him a generous tip and got out of the car. Just as before, he looked up at the mansion where Marco lived and the rolling grounds, but Delaney was looking down still.

“When we get in there?—”

“I can be professional.” Delaney gave him a hard look. “Can you?”

“Let’s go.” They climbed the small flight of stairs to the door and rang the bell. This time, though, a gentleman in a pressed uniform opened the door and greeted them with a pleasant smile. “Mr. Banks, Ms. Cohen. Welcome. Mr. Vassallo is expecting you.”

“Wonderful. Thank you.”

The man led them through an entryway with twin staircases, gleaming marble floors, and shining golden furniture. Logan had a comfortable, sophisticated penthouse in New York City, but this place made his home look like a cramped one-bedroom. Even Delaney looked impressed, despite her disinterest in the scenery this morning.

They passed through a large doorway into a cavernous hall. It looked just like an art museum. A few low, backless bencheswere the only items of furniture in the room. The walls were lined with art, none of which Logan recognized, though that was hardly surprising.

“Welcome!” A handsome man with dark hair and olive skin strode across the room towards them. He was dressed in a suit, just as Logan was, but he looked somehow more casual and at ease. He spoke with just a hint of an Italian accent. “I’m Marco Vassallo. It’s lovely to meet you.”

He held out his hand and Logan shook it. “Logan Banks. The pleasure is mine.”

“Marco Vassallo.” Marco held out his hand to Delaney next. She shook it, a pleasant smile having now replaced the worry on her face.

“Delaney Cohen. It’s quite a collection you have here!”

“Thank you.” Marco glanced around the room. “I inherited this house, and all the art, from my grandfather, who inherited it from his father. None of us know much about art, but when I became the man of the house, I decided it was time to learn something.”

“Very wise.” Delaney smiled.

“You’re an art consultant, yes?” Marco asked.

“I am.”

“I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on my other pieces. I know you’re here for one job only, though. Shall we look atThe Cherished Infant?”

“Please, lead the way,” Logan said. They walked down the length of the room. Delaney stopped to admire a few pieces, but Loganwas focused on nothing but seeing this painting, making sure it was authentic, and getting out of here. He needed time to think.

Marco came to a halt in front of a large painting in a gold frame. Logan had to stifle a gasp at the sight of it. He should have known what the painting depicted, yet somehow, it still came as a surprise to see a golden-haired woman cradling a baby in her arms on the canvas. She wore a white dress, as did the baby, and sat in a field of green grass under a wide blue sky. Yet the woman in the painting had no eyes for the natural beauty around her. She was completely transfixed by the tiny child in her arms, who looked up at her with an expression of wonder.

Logan glanced at Delaney and saw that she was staring at the painting, too. Her eyes were wide and one of her hands was resting on her lower stomach. Did she see what Logan saw in the painting — a woman who looked just like her, with a child who could have been theirs?

“Here it is,” Marco said. “TheCherished Infant.We do not have much in the way of provenance documentation, but I’ve left what we do have on this table here. Let me know if you need any assistance.”

“I will. The painting is gorgeous.” Delaney glanced at Logan, then returned to the artwork. “I’ll need about an hour to evaluate the painting and the documentation, possibly a little more.”

“I have a little work to do,” Logan said. It was always true that he had work to do, but this particular work wasn’t very urgent. He just didn’t want to stand next to Delaney, looking at a picture of a mother and baby, any longer than he needed to.

“Of course,” Marco said. “Would you like me to set you up in the study?”

“If you don’t mind. Delaney, are you all right here?”

“Uh-huh.” Delaney was already unpacking a small bag of supplies, her attention completely focused on the painting. Logan might as well have been a stranger for all the attention she paid him.

“Okay. Come get me if you need anything.”

“Uh-huh.”

Marco led Logan to a nearby room with an ornate wooden desk.

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