Page 20 of His Untouchable Heart

Not just something questionable—something so valuable, so dangerous, even he couldn’t move it through his usual back channels.

And now he wanted me to do it for him.

“I’m not a dealer,” I said smoothly, folding my hands in my lap. “That’s not what I do.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “No, but you have access to collectors who trust you. Trust, Gabrielle, is a highly valued asset.”

There it was, the truth. It wasn’t about my expertise or the painting itself.

This was about power.

Curtain wanted me involved, tied to him, complicit in his scheme.

I remained unwavering, my expression unreadable. “You’re mistaken,” I said, my voice steady. “I don’t engage in the illegal trade of stolen art.”

“Ah,” he mused, stepping forward just enough to lean his hands against the desk, tapping his fingertips slowly. “I didn’t say it was stolen. It’s just that I don’t trust most art dealers.”

A chill prickled at the back of my neck.

Curtain didn’t need me to be an expert in this. He just needed leverage. He needed me tangled in this, unable to pull away.

I inhaled, steady and slow, as if considering my options. But the truth was, I was stalling.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I finally said.

He studied me, his gaze dragging over my face as if he were trying to determine whether I was lying. After a long pause, he gave a slow, satisfied nod.

"Good," he murmured. "I’ll be back in a few days."

Then, just like that, he turned and strolled out of my office, leaving behind nothing but the suffocating weight of his presence.

Only when the door clicked shut did I exhale. I reached for my phone, my fingers trembling on the smooth glass. I had to call Anthony. Now! But before I could dial, my screen lit up with a message.

Anthony: Didn’t plan to leave today, but I’ve been summoned to Dallas. I wanted to see you. I’m not sure what that means anymore, but I still do.

I stared at the words, my stomach plummeting.

Dallas.

He was leaving, and the timing wasn’t a coincidence.

Curtain had waited for the perfect window—when I was alone and had no backup.

My chest tightened.

I had always feared our debauchery would come back to haunt Anthony and me, but now the reality of it settled over me like a weight I wasn’t sure I could lift. I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes briefly before pushing away from my desk.

I couldn’t sit here, drowning in this feeling. I needed to move. I grabbed my purse, my phone, and my keys and headed out.

By the time I slid into my car, my breaths were coming faster. I could tell Anthony.

I should tell him.

But he was already gone. Already dealing with whatever mess the judge had thrown at him.

I gripped the steering wheel, pressing my forehead against the back of my knuckles.

He couldn’t help me with this. But Juliette could, and I needed to talk to her.

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