Page 21 of The Art of Loving You

Svetlana waited in the loading bay, standing perfectly still, her poised demeanor unshaken. The crate sat on the dolly in front of me, edges reinforced and marked with caution labels. Each step toward her felt heavier.

“Thank you, Lucas,” she said, her accent wrapping around the words like silk. Her lips curved in a polite smile, but her eyes remained sharp, assessing. It was the same look she had given me in my father’s office—curiosity mixed with calculation.

“Just doing my job,” I replied, positioning the crate at the loading bay. A spotless van waited at the edge, its anonymity unsettling.

Svetlana stepped forward, heels clicking against the concrete. “You are very thorough,” she remarked, glancing at the crate. “I see why your father trusts you.”

The wordtrustfelt wrong. I nodded, avoiding her gaze as I opened the van doors and maneuvered the dolly inside. The van’s interior was pristine—clean, empty, impersonal. A place where things disappeared.

“Will you be handling transport yourself?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Svetlana tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her eyes. “That is not for you to worry about,” she said smoothly. “Your part is finished.”

The response left me cold, but I forced a nod. “If there’s anything else?—”

“There isn’t,” she interrupted, her tone firm but polite. “You have been very helpful, Lucas. Please convey my thanks to Alistair.”

It sounded more like a dismissal than gratitude. I rolled the dolly back onto the loading bay as she climbed into the van, moving with the same composed grace. She gave me one last glance before shutting the door, her gaze lingering just long enough to unsettle me.

The engine rumbled to life, and a second later, the van disappeared down the alley. I stood there for a moment, the faint scent of exhaust lingering. I didn’t need her to tell me her plans—I already knewThe White Angelwouldn’t end up anywhere honorable.

I exhaled and turned back toward the gallery. My father’s world had always been full of secrets, but this one felt heavier than most. And I had a feeling it wouldn’t stay buried for long.

As I stepped inside, my phone buzzed. Ella’s name lit up the screen. Before I could answer, I caught my father’s sharp gaze landing on my phone. He said nothing, but before he could speak, his own phone rang, pulling his attention away.

I stepped out of sight, answering quietly. “Hey.”

“Lucas,” Ella said, her voice rushed. “The Circus Riderjust arrived. Can you come to the museum to uncrate it?”

“On my way,” I replied, ending the call and slipping my phone back into my pocket.

When I returned, my father was in the middle of a heated conversation. He waved me off when I mentioned logistics at the Ocean View Museum, not even looking up.

Relieved, I left the gallery. He had noticed—but said nothing. For now, I’d focus on Ella, even as the tightrope between my worlds felt ready to snap.

CHAPTER TEN

Ella

The call with Lucas ended too quickly, leaving me with a mix of exhilaration and unease.The Circus Riderhad arrived—a masterpiece and the pinnacle of our Chagall exhibit. Professionally, it was a dream come true. Yet, my mind kept drifting to Lucas, his warm, self-assured voice lingering long after I hung up.

My gaze fell on a new addition to my desk: a framed photo of Lucas, Bess, and me besideThe Circus Riderat the Met. Bess’s grin was wide, her small hand clutching Lucas’s as though he had always been part of our lives. And maybe that was what unsettled me most—how quickly he had become part of mine.

“Big day, huh?” Marie’s voice broke into my thoughts as she entered.

“Yes, very big,” I said, forcing a smile. “The Circus Rider—can you believe it? It’s the piece we’ve been waiting for.”

Marie perched on the side of my desk, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Then why don’t you look thrilled? I expected balloons and confetti, not this distracted, faraway look.”

I sat up, adjusting a stack of papers unnecessarily. “It’s just a lot to coordinate.”

Marie folded her arms. “Ella, it’s me. Spill.”

I sighed, my eyes flickering to the photo. Marie followed my gaze, her expression softening. “That’s new,” she noted, picking up the frame. “You three look… happy.”

She set it down and met my eyes. “This is about Lucas, isn’t it?”

Caught, I hesitated. “It’s complicated.”

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