Page 32 of How to Get Even

‘You do that, while I just go and find…’

Something else to look at.

He turned away from her, leashing his body back under his control with a restraint that was alarmingly difficult. He tried to walk it off, thinking of anything that would dampen his suddenly raging libido. Mrs Lebroux, their elderly neighbour back in Secaucus. Secaucus itself. Scribbling on the concrete outside their little house with the chalks his mother had given him, falling in love with colour and marks and art for the very first time.

His mother.

His heart caved in on itself like it always did. The old familiar sting of grief, the pain of not seeing her, hearing her, feeling her touch, melded with the guilt of not achieving what she’d wanted for him, and the fear that she’d be so very disappointed in him now. He clenched his jaw, reflexively bracing against the direction of his thoughts that were one sure-fire way of getting his libido well and trulydoused.

He looked back at Bella, peering at one of the seventeenth century’s most impressive artists, getting as close as she possibly dared. Closer than she’d ever be able to in a gallery, that was for sure.

Was he surprised by her answer about her favourite painting? No, andthatsurprised him. It was a question that he never usually asked people. But with Bella he was just curious. Curious in a way that he knew was absolutely no good whatsoever.

She was sharp, in both intelligence and character. But he’d never seen her sharp with Maurice or Ali. Of the few connections he’d reached out to about her, she’d been described as invaluable, sweet, a problem solver and a fixer. ‘The soother of ruffles,’ one person had called her.

Except his, it seemed.

There was enough antagonism between them to light a city block. He was old enough to know what it was, and old enough to know better than to act on it. And having firmly told himself that, he turned back to watch Bella gazing at the Gentileschi, every thought and feeling showing across her face like words on a page.

Appreciation, wonder, sadness, regret, understanding.

What would she see inhiswork? And what wouldhesee when she did?

There were one or two here, stored amongst the greats and the not-so-greats. He classed himself with the latter, it went without saying. But he imagined the flush on her cheek, the brightness in her eye. The understanding. Without words, without explanation, just to be known, understood. To be enough.

Christ.Chase passed a hand over his face, hoping to wipe away his thoughts, and headed towards the part of the storage that was the reason he’d brought them both here.

Bella followed him as he found his way to the racks housing the section he was looking for.

Every gallery had one. He’d first discovered it as an intern at the Tate Modern in London and it had made him both sad and angry: the art that was ‘shelved’. And ever since then, he’d made a point of visiting similar works whenever and wherever he could.

And he wanted Bella to see it too. Because he wanted her to understand what he wanted for Nayak. Because he was going to need her help to achieve it. But for that, he was going to have to trust her and just the thought of it made his gut clench.

She waited patiently behind him, unaware of his mental wrangling, as he pulled out a rack that looked just like any other rack in here.

He stood back, inviting Bella forward.

‘What do you see?’ he asked, feeling a little like a school teacher with his student, which just led his dirty, sex-starved mind down a path he had absolutely no intention of following.

‘Expressionism, but early. On the cusp with Impressionism. I don’t… I don’t recognise the artist,’ she said, sounding defeated, as if she’d failed a test, rather than passing it.

‘That’s not surprising. While some of her work is kept here, none of it ever made it into a gallery.’

Bella frowned as if not quite liking what she heard.

‘Not even here?’ Bella asked.

Chase shook his head.

‘That’s a shame. It’s good. Bold, powerful. Physical.’ She smiled up at him, as if having forgotten herself for a moment. ‘Notrelentlessly, but still. I… like it,’ she said as if making up her mind. ‘Why is it here?’

‘It’s part of a collection on loan to the gallery, but as it failed to reach critical acclaim at the time, lack of interest led to lack of awareness and it’s not considered part of the acceptable cannon of Expressionism.’

Bella frowned, little angry lines between her brows. ‘She was a female artist at a time when there were enough powerful men shaping the tastes and appetites for others,’ she said, coming to the explanation herself. ‘Could Nayak loan it out?’

‘This one, quite possibly. But all the rest? There isn’t enough money or time in the world,’ Chase said bitterly.

She looked up, querying what he meant by ‘all the rest’.

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