Page 86 of The Prize
“You called it a ruse.”
“There must be truth in every subterfuge for it to be believed. I refuse to hide. And I’m happy to be with you here.”
I brought my hands up to cup his cheeks to convey how I felt about him, and he narrowed his gaze as though mulling over my confusion. We still had to face so much uncertainty and were holding on by a thread with everything just one snap away from falling apart.
Tobias rose and walked away.
I went to call after him and then realized from the friendliness of how he greeted her that he was heading toward someone he recognized. I assumed the pretty forty-something was Sarah Belle. Pushing myself to my feet I remained a little way back as he chatted with the woman who carried herself like a curator. She threw me a wave and I gave one back.
Walking in the opposite direction I neared a closed door with the gold lettering above announcing beyond was the Edgar Degas exhibit. A memory hit me—aged seven years I’d pirouetted before a Degas trying to mirror the elegance of a ballerina.Oh, God, I’d believed that painting had been destroyed all these years. My memories felt tainted.
“Wait for me,” Tobias called over.
I wanted to be in that room, wanted to cleanse myself of this uneasiness and my feet kept walking until my hand was on the door.
Why is it closed?
Tobias cut me off. “It’s not ready.”
I tried to pry my arm away from his hand that had stopped me, and doubt rose in my chest for why we were here.
“Please, Zara, give us a few minutes before we go in.” He turned and waved goodbye to Sarah Belle.
A wave of panic. “What is this?”
He faced me again. “When I create a hologram or a three-dimensional world it’s only a reflection of the authenticity it strives to reflect. I was reminded of that when I saw your expression during the demonstration back at the house. You loved the art I’d captured with my virtual reality but nothing equals being at a gallery. Right?”
“That’s just it, Tobias.” My gut twisted. “With you I’m never sure what I’m seeing. You have this facade that’s challenging to penetrate. I’ve seen a side of you I always believed was there, a good side, but then it’s gone.”
“Don’t letMona Lisacurse me for the rest of my life.”
“Whatever incantation you’re casting to catch the Burells is rubbing off on me.” I pointed to the room. “More mysteries? More smoke and mirrors?”
He hung his head in frustration.
I twisted the door handle and gave it a shove—
Hurrying in, I stopped in the center of the room when I saw the dinner table set up with a pristine white cloth and two plate settings. Soft lighting threw dramatic shadows around the romantically set room. Making my way in farther my breath caught in wonder at the art adorning the walls and all of them were dreamy renditions by Edgar Degas.
I’d been away from my beloved art for too long.
I exhaled a long breath of surprise for what Tobias had pulled off, and when I filled my lungs again it was with awe at the portraits surrounding me. Ahead of me, I spottedThe Ballet Class. It was painted around 1874, revealing Degas’s privileged access to the backstage area of the opera house where he’d observed dancers rehearsing and had masterfully captured them in a moment of time.
I absorbed the vision of Degas’s 1874The Ballet Rehearsal on Stage, and admired his choice of colors, that gorgeous blue, the dancers immortalized midmovement, and allowed myself to be absorbed into the canvas and have these seconds selfishly dissolve.
I’d discovered something else about Tobias, not only from being in this setting that he’d chosen specially, but from our easy access to watch a rehearsal at the New York Ballet, and that was he had a fondness for dancing. He truly was a Renaissance man.
He gave a wary smile as though gauging what I thought of his surprise. I looked upon this complex man, a mosaic of many layers, and this was why I’d struggled to define him. His gaze wandered from painting to painting and his expression was full of adoration. Yet when his eyes found mine again they turned fiercely protective. Staring into each other’s eyes, time stood still and at that moment I was seeinghim.
He’d been right, I had needed my art fix and no matter where I was in the world art would always be my anchor. That Tobias had known this touched me deeply. He felt like my safe harbor in the storm. Words failed me as I shrugged my apology for how I’d just spoken to him and he responded with a grin to convey all was forgiven.
He held out his hand and escorted me to the table.
A young waiter served ravioli pieces drizzled in lobster sauce as an appetizer. It would have been easy to forget we were in a gallery and not a fine restaurant. After pouring champagne into two flutes the young man laid a serviette on my lap.
Tobias thanked him.
He made a quiet exit and closed the door to the exhibit room behind him.
