Page 56 of The Art of Loving You

My gaze dropped to the keys in her hand. “I assume those unlock more than just the front door.”

“They do.” She turned them over in her palm, letting the light glint off the metal. “These grant access to the outer door of the vault.”

A flicker of something passed across her expression—curiosity, perhaps, or the quiet thrill of stepping into the unknown.

“I worked under Alistair and Lucas,” she continued, her tone controlled but not detached. “Handled sales, private acquisitions, and filled in where needed. But nothing like this.”

Her fingers brushed the edge of the folder she held, an unconscious gesture, but a telling one. There was something in her posture, in the way she carried this moment, that went beyond professionalism.

“You’re invested,” I observed.

“Of course. This matters.”

The simplicity of her statement carried weight.

It was a strange thing, standing before a gallery I had once admired, speaking to a woman who had, in her own way, been a part of its past, and realizing that we were all here for something more than just obligation.

I nodded toward the doors. “Then let’s begin.”

As the doors to the gallery opened, I knew I was stepping into more than just a legal entanglement.

This was a place where history had been rewritten in silence.

And now, it was time to unearth the truth.

She stepped past me, her movements fluid and unhurried, as if she had already claimed ownership over this new role before it had even been formally given to her. The faintest trace of her scent lingered—something light, floral, elusive. It was the kind of fragrance that disappeared as quickly as it arrived, leaving only the memory behind.

A ripple of laughter from outside made me glance back.

The newlyweds had arrived.

Lucas Devereux strode toward the entrance, effortlessly composed, as always. His open-collared shirt and tailored jacket suggested someone entirely at ease, someone who had left behind the weight of expectation in favor of something far more satisfying. But I had known enough men like him to recognize that ease was an illusion, a carefully cultivated performance. Lucas was always calculating, even when he played the role of the charming, devoted husband.

Beside him, Ella was radiant, still carrying the glow of Paris in her features. There was something different about her now, something more settled. She fit against Lucas’s side as if she had always belonged there, as if every step she had taken in life had been leading her to this moment.

Curtain smirked, his expression edged with amusement. “Married life suits you.”

Lucas responded with a lazy grin, looping an arm around Ella’s waist with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. “Some things are worth the commitment.”

Ella smiled warmly as her gaze landed on me. “Anthony. It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise.”

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “Paris was incredible. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the Louvre.”

The unguarded passion in her voice caught me off guard. There had been a time when I, too, could lose myself in art without the weight of politics and consequences pressing in. Once, museums and galleries had been places of wonder, not battlegrounds. A time when my career had been about preserving beauty, not untangling corruption.

Lucas’s arm tightened around her, an unconscious claim.

Curtain cleared his throat, snapping the moment back into focus. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s move on. There’s business to attend to.”

Inside Alistair’s old office, the air was thick with the scent of polished mahogany and faint, lingering cigar smoke. The heavy drapes swallowed most of the daylight, casting long shadows across the room. Everything about the space felt heavy—too much wood, too much history, too many secrets embedded into the very walls.

A stack of documents awaited my signature on the vast wooden desk, the weight of responsibility bound within the crisp pages.

Curtain gestured toward the papers. “This finalizes your role as legal custodian of the Devereux Gallery. You’ll oversee restoration, restitution, and acquisitions while liaising with the Monuments Men and Women Foundation. Alistair has signed away all rights. His influence ends here.”

Lucas’s expression remained stoic. If he had any lingering attachment to this place, he wasn’t going to show it. Ella, however, looked relieved.

---