Page 21 of Painted in Sin

17

ISABELLA

Istand back and inspect my work—my painting finally in Victor's frame. Sitting next to the Sister in Mourning, anyone would think they are both authentic, painted by Raphael's hands centuries ago. Only I and Paolo know any different. The forgery of the Sister is on display, the authentic one here safely next to my forgery of Victor's painting, the Last Supper of St Francis. And the authentic St Francis is in my locker, safely stored in the tube.

Now, if I can pull everything off without anyone being the wiser, I will have successfully preserved two authentic Raphael paintings. And when Matthias is back on his feet and better, he will help me turn this entire ring of art smugglers in and hopefully discourage any future shenanigans by other evildoers out to profit off the world of art.

Alarms begin to sound, the bell zinging through the air making my pulse rise and my heart feel as if it's going to beat out of my chest. I didn’t expect it this soon, but I did expect it. When Victor warned us only two days ago, I thought we'd have more time. I'mglad I pulled an all-nighter last night to prepare the Sister for display.

Acting quickly to ensure the authentic Sister doesn't get seen by anyone, I shut the vault and lock it. Before I even turn to head toward the panic room in the back of the studio, Paolo is at my side.

"What is it?" His eyes are wide with fright, hands wringing. He was here when the alarms went off before and he heard Victor's warning about a heist on the Sister. Still, he acts like he knows nothing, like this is a shock.

"It's the heist… Victor's warning," I say with a stern tone. I'm shaken a little, but not overly so. I grab his elbow and move in a fluid motion toward the panic room. The vault is secure. No one knows about the Raphael in my locker, which is padlocked shut, so all we have to do is make sure both of us are safe.

I drag Paolo into the panic room and shut the door tightly, locking it behind us. Here the alarm is quieter, only a faint whir in the background, but still audible. Paolo chews his nails, pacing, and I lean against the wall letting my head drop back. Victor is a smart man. He probably knew what Mr. Giani would order us to do—keep the Sister on display. And he knew I would want to protect it with my own life.

I don’t feel guilty at all for putting a forgery out there. I know it was the right move. I know Victor is behind this, though I have no proof. I can't very well walk out there with men trying to steal our artwork and chase them off. They are likely hired hands, not Victor himself. He's not stupid enough to do that. In fact, it's probably Nicola who's been paid to do this. Victor got him out of jail to steal one Raphael, so why not a second one too?

If it were up to me, we would have better security or all of our paintings in vaults. Putting that fake painting out on display was the best move I could've made, even if it upsets my boss. The forgery will be stolen, but the authentic painting is still safe.

"Do you think they have weapons? Why are they doing this? What sort of?—"

"Enough, Paolo," I snip, too anxious to try to calm him like he's a nursing infant. I breathe out a sigh and sink to a bench next to me. The panic room is nothing but steel walls and benches, enough space for up to ten people, but only if they are packed in like sardines. "We're safe in here. They’re here for the Raphael and nothing else. They'll leave when they have it, and the authorities are on the way already. Security can handle this."

He nods, still biting his nails and pacing. I can see all the uncertainty in his eyes. He's not fond of being in here, maybe a little claustrophobic too. But it's the lesser of two evils. We are safe, not at gunpoint being forced to help thieves remove priceless artwork from the gallery.

Minutes go by and the alarms cease. Paolo isn't saying anything else after I snapped at him. There's no way for us to know what's happening until the phone rings, and I stand to pick it up.

"Hello?" The phone serves one singular purpose. To inform those inside the panic room when it's safe to exit. The only way out is for me to type in the code so the door unlocks. Only three people have the code, and two of them are inside already.

"Ms. De Luca, it's safe." Mr. Giani's voice sounds on the phone, but I'm trained to follow protocol. After incidents like what happened at the hotel, there is no way I'm opening the door until I know the coast is clear.

"I need the code, Mr. Giani. You know…" My lip worries between my teeth. I hold my breath as a second male voice comes across the line.

"This is deputy investigator DiMarco, badge number 45228. The code is 739410." As he speaks, my eyes trace over the readout on the phone screen, a code being shared with both me and the investigator from the security company in charge of the panic room's function. The numbers match, and it unravels the coil of tension in my chest.

"Thank you, sir," I tell him, typing the code into the back side of the door. It springs open and as I hang up, Paolo pushes the door outward, gasping for air as he stumbles out.

It wasn't my favorite thing being locked in there, even for the short time we spent there. Still, I know it was a good choice as soon as I see the studio crawling with police officers. One of them nods his head at me and walks over, saying, "I'm DiMarco. I need to get your statements."

I glance at the door to the gallery, propped open by another sturdy-looking man. There are cops everywhere, probably looking for some suspect. I have a mind to tell them the real painting is in the vault, but somehow, I'm choked up as soon as I see Mr. Giani. He's furious.

"I can't believe this. We have the best security in the world." He runs his hand through his hair. I see from across the room the sweat beading on his forehead. If I tell him that I've preserved the authentic painting exactly how he ordered me not to, he'll be relieved. And so will I—of my job.

It dawns on me as I listen to Paolo give his statement. He was cleaning paintbrushes when the alarms sounded. I, however,was standing in the vault staring at the Sister and her cousin, and I fully understand my folly now. If I tell Giani and these police officers about the authentic painting, I'll be outing myself as a forger and Giani, though pleased to have his asset secure, will terminate me.

"Excuse me," I tell DiMarco, thinking I need to get to my boss before this blows up. I should've told him I disobeyed his orders, and I didn't. I had good reason to do what I did, but how do I undo the method by which I went about my scheme and keep my good reputation intact? My mind races with ways to explain this as I walk toward my boss, and someone catches me by the arm and spins me around.

I look dead into the eyes of a man who chills me to my core. "Marco," I mutter, shaking my head.

"Ms. De Luca," he says, flashing his badge at me again. I've seen it. He doesn't have to show it to me. I don't want to see it again. He terrifies me, and something tells me he is the one behind Matthias's disappearance and beating.

"I…" I don't know what to say. My jaw hangs slack as I stare up at him. He's even scarier when he's here under official capacity. I looked for him, searched the internet, but found no trace of his name among Interpol's database, but here he is, with badge and gun. And Matthias says not to trust him.

"So the Sister has been lifted?" His eyebrows rise as he purses his lips and stares at me. "Seems an awful coincidence… doesn't it?"

I'm shaking, feeling like I may throw up now on this man's shoes. "Sir, I was in the vault. I don't know what was taken." But my gut knows he's right. Victor's warning was real, and someone stole that painting I forged. They're going to require an accountof every priceless work of art in the building and when they do, Mr. Giani is going to find out the real Sister is still here.

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