Page 77 of Captive Lies

Grant nodded. “At least unlock your door atnight.”

I looked at him dubiously. “I’m not sure that’s a good ideaeither.”

Before Grant could answer, someone called our attention. We looked, and then to my chagrin, a paparazzi took our photograph. “Mr. Thorne, are you back together with BlaireCallahan?”

Grant didn’t say anything, because Tyler and another bodyguard materialized to confront the photographer who took off rather than have his camera or flash card confiscated. But I knew better. The photographer wouldn’t have gotten through Tyler if he hadn’t been allowedto.

I narrowed my eyes at Grant who stared at me in all innocence. “You planned that scene, didn’tyou?”

“It’s about time those tabloids got the story straight,” he said with not an iota ofrepentance.

“What story? We’re not together,” Ihissed.

“Yet.”

“Your overconfidence is aggravating,” Iretorted.

Just then, our food arrived and I had the childish urge to flick one of my mussels at him and wipe that wide, self-satisfied grin off hisface.

I huffed and decided to concentrate on my meal, taking the meat out of its shell, and dropping it into the broth. I preferred to de-shell all the mussels first. Grant always found it amusing as he did now. Although, I’d say there was an indulgent look in his eyes that caused my heart to skip a beat. He took a healthy bite of his burger, chewing thoughtfully. I enjoyed spoonfuls of succulent mussel, alternating it with bites of garlic toast that had been drenched in the brinyliquid.

We ate in silence for a while, drowning our senses in the chatter of the brasserie patrons and the aroma wafting from the kitchen. Butter and garlic—a heavenlycombination.

“I’d like for you to attend an art exhibit with me,” Grant said, putting his half eaten burgeraside.

“An art exhibit?” I asked. “You have time forthat?”

He looked affronted. “I have time for you. Actually, the gallery is displaying some of the artwork I’ve inadvertently acquired in my recent property deal.” A smug expression crossed his face. “Apparently, one of the buildings in that acquisition was sitting on almost a billion dollars worth of lostart.”

“What?” My fork dropped into my bowl. “How long have you known? Wasn’t that business deal of yours almost a monthago?”

“Yes, the business deal that made me almost lose you,” he said, as a grim look crossed his face. “I’ve known about the art since a few days after the purchase, but it took a while to work things out with the Russian authorities whether the art belonged to me or thestate.”

“And?”

“For now, I’m its custodian,” Grant stated matter-of-factly. “We’re talking about art stolen from Europe by the Nazis. When the pieces come out, I’m sure people will come forward to claim them. I’m not interested in selling, although Christie’s has already given me acall.”

I had to pick my jaw off the table. I wiped my lips primly with a napkin. “You’ll do the rightthing.”

Grant had a gleam in his eyes. “Come on, you’re curious about the collection Ihave.”

“Oh, I dunno, amI?”

“Blaire,” he said chidingly before he returned his attention to his burger, but I saw him sneaking glances at me, the corners of his lips twitching as he tried not tosmile.

I stabbed at the poor mussels and continue eating. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. “All right! Whose art do youhave?”

Grant took his time finishing his burger, and when he’d swallowed the last bite, I was, indeed, ready to stab him with my fork. Notreally.

“Well, let’s see,” he said in all mock suspense. “Definitely Picasso, Renoir, Matisse. Degas, Max Liebermann… the list goes on and on. Baby?” he asked in amusement. “Are youokay?”

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” I whispered. “And you kept this from me? How couldyou?”

“I wanted to be sure that I could bring them Stateside,” Grant said. “I didn’t want to raise your hopes and then let you down. I also wanted to secure the art galleryfirst.”

“I’m sure you had a lot ofoffers.”

“The Guggenheim called aswell.”

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