Page 72 of The Thief

I’ve barely settled in when Giana, our gossipy department assistant, drops by unannounced.

“Some of us get together and buy lottery tickets in a pool,” she says. “Do you want to join us?”

I’ve been here for two months, and this is the first I’ve heard of the lottery pool. Let’s be honest: I wouldn’t put it past her to have hastily set it up in the last ten minutes just so she could have an excuse to stop by.

“No, I’m good,” I reply. “Thank you.”

She doesn’t leave. “You probably already feel like you’ve won the lottery,” she says with a superior little sniff. “I don’t know how you can look past the mafia thing, but I guess Antonio Morettiisvery rich, and that’s enough for some people. I wouldn’t date him myself for all the sexy lingerie and fancy dinners in the world, but. . .” Her voice trails off.

He’s not offering to date you,I want to snap at her. I don’t think much of our department secretary, but even by the admittedly low bar I’ve set for her, this is too much.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Giana?” I say curtly. “Because I have a lot to do today, and I don’t have time to indulge your desire for gossip. If this isn’t about work, please leave.”

She gives me a poisonous look and slams my door shut. I grit my teeth and turn on my computer. I’ve probably made an enemy, but I can’t bring myself to care. She flat-out called me a gold digger, and I refuse to put up with it.

But Giana sets the tone for the day. She’s barely left my office when there’s another knock at my door. I look up, and it’s Dr. Mayer.

Felix Mayer, the assistant curator in charge of acquisitions, is in his mid-fifties and my least favorite coworker. He’s a condescending, sexist jerk. In meetings, it’s always him who turns to me and says,“Would you mind taking notes, Lucia?”

As if we didn’t share the exact same title.

Two weeks ago, when Giana was out sick for a day, he had the nerve to ask me to bring him a coffee. Yes. For real. For almost a minute, my brain struggled to process what I’d heard, then I almost punched him. “Get your own goddamn coffee,” I snarled before walking away.

Evidently, I hurt his feelings and ever since then, we’ve maintained an uneasy peace. I do my best to avoid him, and he alternates between pouting like a child and ignoring me. He clearly expects me to apologize for swearing at him, but hell will freeze over before I do that, and there the matter lies.

But the lure of Antonio Moretti’s money and influence is too great because Felix Mayer is holding a box of pastries in his hand.

“I stopped by the bakery on my way in,” he explains, holding out the sugary treats. “Please, help yourself.”

“Thank you.” I take one, hoping he will go away, but of course, he doesn’t.

“I wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings from our conversation a couple of weeks ago.”

You mean the conversation where you asked me, your peer, to fetch your coffee? I bite my tongue before I can tell him exactly where he can put his non-apology. “Okay.”

He makes no move to leave. “What are you working on, Lucia?”

I summon up patience and answer his question, and he pretends to listen. Then he spends twenty minutes telling me all about his research and how he’s been constrained by a sad lack of funding. Finally, when I’m ready to scream at him, he departs my office.

My next visitor is the director herself, Gisele Sabatino. Today must really be my lucky day.

She enters my office and settles herself in the chair across from me. I not-so-patiently wait for her to explain why she’s here, but she doesn’t say anything, so I prompt, “What can I do for you, Signora Sabatino?”

“We haven’t really had a chance to connect, Lucia,” she says with a wide smile. “I wanted to make sure you have all the equipment you need.”

You barely knew my name until I was seen with Antonio at Quadri, but okay.

“I do, yes.”

“I hope everyone in the museum has been welcoming.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “They have, thank you.”

She looks around my tiny, windowless office. It’s a glorified closet, really, but I don’t care. “You don’t have a lot of light here. I must talk to Nicolo about finding you a better space. After all, digitization is an important priority for our museum.”

“I don’t need much,” I reply, but she’s not listening. I grit my teeth as she starts talking about the museum’s budget shortfall.

“Fundraising is the most important part of my job,” she says. “But it’s an uphill battle. Even with generous donors, it’s never enough. If we had more money, we could do so much more. Really, the work you’re doing— the digitization efforts— should be a full-time job. But unfortunately, a short-term contract is all we can afford right now.”

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