Page 41 of Power and Possession

“What?”

“My mother was desolate, poor, and living on the streets. I told you she became a prostitute. She was apprehended when she approached a policeman. Not realizing who he was, she offered her services. I was born four months later. She hid her pregnancy. I think part of her hoped that her parents would have pity on her and take her back after she got out of jail. I don’t know if she planned to keep me, or tell them I died…”

I trailed off, reciting the facts of the situation calmly, trying not to get emotional. I’d made my peace with my past, but I wanted Ashlynn to know that I carried scars as well, both physically and emotionally. I wasn’t sure why it was important for me to tell her this, other than to show her that I, too, had lost a mother.

Her tears started anew, and she looked at me with pity—but, for the first time, she also looked at me like a man. Not a criminal, not her captor, not the person who just warmed hersheets.

I continued, wanting to get the whole story out. It was like a poison festering inside me. “My mother died during childbirth. She tried to deliver me herself, and it…didn’t go well. She hemorrhaged in her cell.”

Ashlynn was openly weeping now, but I couldn’t stop my tale.

“I was placed in a series of orphanages and foster homes until I reached the age of fifteen. I still bear the scars of some of them.” I didn’t go into detail about how they happened. When I turned twenty-one, I’d gone back and killed the man who did it, so he could never hurt another child again.

“After fifteen, I couldn’t take it anymore and I ran away. I lived on the streets of London for two years, and then I came to Paris. I got a job as a janitor for a lesser art museum. I fell in love with the museum at night, and when I looked at the paintings, I felt like I owned them. It was just me and the paintings until dawn. I snuck into art history classes and studied at the library whenever I could. I managed to fake my way into college and majored in Art History at Oxford. I used my father’s name, and they never even figured out that I hadn’t finished high school. By then he’d passed on, and I took over the estate after DNA testing was done.”

“How did you find out who your family was?”

“I hunted down my birth certificate. It wasn’t hard. I took advantage of the connections my family name brought, and I used my late father’s money to invest in my business. He squandered most of it away, but it was enough for me to get started.”

I turned onto my driveway, the security guards nodding as I passed them. Ashlynn looked at my manor, her eyes still glistening with tears. I didn’t want her sympathy, but seeing her open up and feel sadness for me stirred something within my soul.

“You’re an art thief,” she said.

Smart girl.

She slipped off her heels the second she got into the house. We hadn’t said anything further to each other, and I wasn’t sure what was left to say. I’d basically put it all on the line for her. She knew my life story—knew me more intimately than anyone else did. I watched as she climbed the stairs to her room, the room in which I’d placed all her possessions. She looked conflicted, and I wondered if perhaps her heart was softening towards me. I knew that there were things that I was starting to feel for her. I wasn’t sure what they were, but I didn’t want her out of my life anytime soon.

My cell phone rang, and I glanced at it, seeing Cooper’s name pop up on the screen. I answered it, heading towards my study for a stiff drink.

“Hey Steele. I just got into Paris. Did Masten make contact tonight?”

I sat in my leather armchair behind my desk, putting my feet up on the surface of it while I removed my tie.

“He did. He’ll wire a deposit later this evening, and then the full amount once the transfer is made. He wants it delivered to his estate in Santorini.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get the logistics sorted out. You’re still planning on being involved in this one, right?”

I picked up the crystal decanter and poured myself a tall glass of scotch. “Yes. This one is big. I want to make sure absolutely everything goes off without complication.”

“Sounds good. How’s our favorite prisoner behaving?” The second he mentioned Ashlynn, I pictured her tears that evening, first for her mother, and then her sorrow at my background—how her beautiful mocha eyes glistened as the tears made their way down her soft cheek.

I sighed, feeling more confused than I had ever been in my life. “Did you still want that beer?”

I met Cooper at a small bar just outside the city. I’d changed into jeans and asked Quincy to check-in on Ashlynn and make sure she ate something. I’d originally planned to take her to dinner after the opera, but I didn’t think she was feeling up to it.

Cooper was already sitting in a booth when I got there. He was wearing all black, just coming from the warehouse. I sat opposite him, and he slid a beer towards me.

“I took the liberty of getting started without you. But I did order you one so you can catch up.”

I grabbed the glass bottle and took a large gulp. It wasn’t as good as scotch, but I wasn’t picky tonight. Alcohol was alcohol in the end.

Cooper glanced at me, one eye lowered, his brow wrinkled. “Steele.”

I ran my fingers through my hair, looking anywhere but at Cooper. There was a jukebox in the corner, and I felt myself watching the pattern of lights as it flashed.

I cleared my throat. “I—I don’t want to hurt her.”

“So don’t. Get her father to pay or play, and then let her loose. She’s been nothing but a nuisance.”

---