Page 46 of Power and Possession

“Now are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?”

Steele moved his eyes back to the road. “When my men packed up your belongings, they found a photo album and a large box of pictures. Based on what I saw, I’d wager that you’re an amateur photographer. I’m taking you to several of the photography museums in Paris.”

My mouth dropped, completely inelegantly. “You—you—”

“Jerk? Asshole? Those are usually the words that come out of your mouth when describing me.” He laughed, finally glancing at me to read my reaction.

“No, I’m just surprised is all. I didn’t think that, well, that—”

“That I had a heart? Me neither.”

More teasing. This lighthearted side of him was starting to grow on me. He seemed somewhat boyish, with an innocent charm.

“I just can’t believe you’re doing this for me.”

“Ashlynn, you should have figured out by now that I’d do anything for you.”

Then grant me my freedom, I longed to say. But it would just make him angry and ruin the day. I was actually excited to see the museums, and my father would be here soon enough. There was no need to do anything but enjoy this afternoon. With Steele.

Instead of our normal silent car ride, Steele peppered me with details about my life.

“What made you interested in photography?” He held the steering wheel casually, his other hand resting on his knee. His fingers twitched a bit, and I wondered if he was trying to decide if he wanted to reach out and grab my hand. I moved my hand to the center of my lap, making the decision for him. I refused to get any closer to this man.

“I took a couple of photography classes in college. I liked the way I could capture a moment in time within a single frame.”

“That’s rather poetic,” Steele said, glancing at me.

“What made you decide to become an art thief?”

He laughed, that same hearty chuckle that was starting to melt me. “The opportunity was there. I saw flaws within the system, saw how much power the board of directors possessed over their museums. I saw how little they actually knew about art, and how easy it would be to replace real treasures with replicas.”

“So, you pick a piece and then just swap it out?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. Usually a client reaches out to me about a specific piece. If it’s not in a museum I have control over, I find some way to get access–either by utilizing my connections, making generous donations…and so forth. Then, my team and I pull off the switch.”

“So how many times have you done this?”

Another churlish grin from him.

“That many?”

“Name a piece.”

“The Scream.”

“Currently in an underground bunker in Turkey.”

“Really?”

A brief nod was all he responded with.

“The Statue of David?”

“Currently in Japan, as far as I know. It’s been stolen twice since I originally procured it.”

“The Execution of Lady Jane Grey?” That painting was one of my personal favorites.

“Ashlynn, you’d be better off naming pieces I haven’t taken.”

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