Page 18 of The Collector's Temptation

7

ASTON

“Is the Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun complete?” Rafa asked.

I nodded, eyes still on the paintbrush in my hand as I carefully cleaned it. “It has to finish curing, but otherwise, it's done. The canvas will be ready for the swap next week.”

“Bene.”

A couple of months ago, Sotheby’s announced the contents of their upcoming auction. Not long after, we were approached by a client interested in Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun’sSelf-Portrait with Daughter.

Le Brun had been a court painter to Marie Antoinette. Her royal connections and aristocratic lineage added significant value to her work. Most of her paintings were locked away in museums or private European collections. Rarely did one go to public auction, and when it did, the price reflected its scarcity. This particular piece was estimated to be worth between three and ten million dollars.

Our client didn’t want to bid publicly—too much visibility. Her private collection already included several pieces we had “acquired” for her, and bidding could attract unwantedattention. She also wasn’t willing to play Sotheby’s game, knowing full well they planted bidders to drive up prices.

Instead, she paid The Family three million to “retrieve” it.

Rafa had assigned Luca Dominici, our best thief, to steal the painting from the new owner. Luca would also leave a trail for the police to follow, one that led exactly where we wanted it to. Eventually, they would recover the painting—the forgery—and arrest a fall guy Rafa had already paid to take the blame. Our lawyer would negotiate the sentence down. Probably no more than three years and maybe probation.

It sometimes surprised me how many volunteers we had for that kind of gig. Some did it to clear their debt to The Family. Others for problems that they could never fix on their own.

“Don’t forget, we have a new shipment coming in tomorrow,” Rafa reminded me. “Franco dropped off the paperwork earlier. I want you at the port to take possession of the crates.”

I glanced over my shoulder and lifted my chin in acknowledgment. “I’ll be there.”

I returned to patting each brush dry, shaping the bristles before hanging them up. The shipment was headed to the Belladonna, so it made sense for me to oversee things. There were four crates, each one holding six paintings—nothing flashy. We didn’t want them to raise a red flag.

Once they arrived at the gallery, they'd be cleaned so the real masterpieces hidden beneath would be revealed.

When I turned around, Rafa was leaning casually against the back wall of my studio, watching me with that unreadable stare of his.

“Something on your mind?” I asked, resting my hip against the counter.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Kerrigan Vale.”

It was no surprise he knew her name. I assumed he'd done a full background check by now.

“Oui.”

“I trust you haven’t shared anything sensitive. But have you told her you're an artist?”

“Non. I plan to do it the next time I see her.”

His gaze swept the space. Only three easels were visible, but two were covered and the third was empty. For once, my studio looked almost...organized. I was fairly meticulous in my everyday life, but my studio was usually chaotic for some reason.

Rafa had clearly noticed how I’d hidden most of it away. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your studio so bare,fratello.”

My studio was sacred to me. It was my sanctuary, and I rarely invited others to step inside. Which meant there was no need for me to hide anything away…unless I intended to have a visitor who wasn’t allowed to see most of its contents.

I met his gaze. “Is this your way of asking if I plan to bring her here? I’ll save you the time. The answer is yes.”

He raised a brow, his penetrating stare once again boring into me. “Do you think that’s wise, considering her obsession with proving thatNativity with Saint Francis and Saint Lawrenceis a forgery?”

Again, I wasn’t fazed by how much he knew about Kerrigan, but it didn’t stop it from pissing me the fuck off.

After a tense silence, I sighed. “I’ve been careful. But…” I shrugged. “No matter how many times I tell myself to do it, I haven’t been able to distance myself from her.”

Rafa nodded slowly. “I understand. There’s no universe where I could’ve walked away from Vivienne.”

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