Page 2 of The Collector's Temptation

“Technically, no.” At her confused look, I explained, “It’s not a full-fledged parish church. More of a small chapel dedicated to prayer that provides a focused setting for worship. The Palermo Cathedral, which is less than a mile walk away, serves as the main parish church for the community.”

Melanie quirked a brow. “Still, it’s pretty ballsy to steal from the Catholic Church, no matter what kind of building they were keeping the painting in.”

“Ballsy is an apt description.” I leaned forward. “Especially since there are rumors that the Sicilian Mafia was involved in the heist and has been passing the painting around for years so that it couldn’t be traced.”

She let out a low whistle. “If the painting has been missing all this time, why are you researching it now?”

“I heard Susan talking to the chief curator of the museum about an auction that’s coming up soon. Apparently, word is spreading quickly around the Atlanta art world and beyond thatNativity with Saint Francis and Saint Lawrencehas been discovered and will be the blockbuster lot for the auction.”

“Blockbuster, like a movie?” Melanie asked before taking one last bite of filet.

I nodded. “Basically, yes. The term is used for pieces expected to generate significant attention and high bids. Which, if the rumors are correct, is exactly what would happen with this particular painting. Caravaggio’s works are exceptionally rare onthe open market. One sold last year to a private collector for $39 million. And that didn’t have the same storied history as this. Heck, it almost went for under $2,000 because it had been misattributed to another artist. The family who owned it since the 19th century had no idea.”

“Wow,” she breathed.

“Mistakes in the art world can come with stiff downsides.”

She snorted. “Like losing out on $38,998,000?”

“Or spending even more than that on a forgery,” I mumbled as I shut my laptop with a sigh.

“Do you think they’re auctioning off a fake?”

I pursed my lips as I pondered her question. “I think it’s suspicious for a famously stolen Caravaggio to suddenly turn up shortly after another painting attributed to him and billed as a newly discovered masterpiece was determined to be a fake. The timing will send bids on this piece soaring. But there’s no way I can know for sure unless I somehow got close enough to really study the painting, and I don’t see that happening when I have zero contacts in the Atlanta art world.”

Melanie flashed me a mischievous smile. “Would it help if you attended that fancy gala that’s been in the news? The one next weekend, with the art auction? Even if they don’t end up having anything nearly as cool as a painting stolen by the Mafia years ago, it would still be a good chance for you to network.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the auction. “That would be amazing, but I don’t see myself getting an invitation to an event like that anytime soon.”

“That’s where your handy-dandy roommate comes in.” Her grin widened. “My boss just asked me to work the gala, so I can sneak you in.”

1

ASTON

“You really think he’ll keep his mouth shut?” my brother, Charles, queried in our native French before taking a sip of champagne and casually gazing around us.

The art auction we were attending was a high-brow event with the wealthiest and most discerning collectors in attendance. They mingled with hors d'oeuvres and champagne while they previewed most of the pieces that would soon be up for bidding.

“Oui,” I replied, my eyes sweeping the room as well. Our position on the wall to the left of the stage, near an exit that led to the inner offices of the auction house, gave us a perfect vantage point to assess our surroundings. “I’m not in the habit of making suggestions to our boss that could end with my body fertilizing the woods behind Magnolia Crest.”

Charles snorted a laugh and took another drink.

He wasn’t amused by the absurdity of my visual because we both knew it wasn’t an unrealistic outcome for pissing off the man we worked for. “Raffaele is more creative than that, Aston. Give the merciless King of the South some fucking credit.”

Magnolia Crest was an estate in Camillia Falls, Georgia, owned by the infamous Mafia underboss, Raffaele DeLuca. Rafa ruled the southern branches of the DeLuca Crime Family and only answered to his cousin. Nic lived in New York City and was the boss of the organization.

Both men were devoted to their families, as well as to “The Family” as we referred to ourselves. But they were also ruthless and deadly to those they felt deserved it.

We’d all been close since childhood, which had grown into a deep friendship as adults. But ultimately, I still worked for them. While a fuckup at any normal job would get you fired, if you royally fucked up Family business, you could end up with a bullet in your skull. And choosing a new art authentication specialist I had doubts about would definitely qualify as a royal fuckup if they ended up betraying us.

Although, the unique skills I possessed definitely meant I was less likely to end up swimming with the fishes.

Nic had been the one to convince me to relocate from Paris to Georgia five years ago. I’d moved to Camillia Falls to work with Rafa because The Family’s prominent business in the South, particularly the Georgia and Carolina branches, was my specialty. Art and antiquities.

Although we were French, Charles and I had been born into The Family. Our grandfather Aimé had been best friends with Francisco DeLuca—Nic’s grandfather. Who was also the half brother of Rafa’s grandfather…because it was a typical big, confusing Italian family. Francisco and Aimé had gone to boarding school together, and when Francisco took over as boss, he and Aimé worked together to smuggle art and antiquities in and out of France.

The operation had been passed down to our father, then Charles and I eventually took it over. When I moved to theStates, Charles continued to manage the operations in France while I handled things on this end.

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