Page 50 of Canvas of Lies
“Well, that was the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard,” Nico muttered, turning off the television and tossing theremote onto the coffee table. Even his voice didn’t quite cut through my distraction until he waved a hand in front of my face and said, “Earth to Kitten, come in?”
I jerked, startled from my tumbling thoughts, and blinked Nico back into focus. He stared at me intently, waiting.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “It was bullshit, yes, but that might be just what we need.”
“How do you figure?”
“He’s saying he’s owned that painting since I was a baby, right?”
He blinked at me. “So?”
“So,” I continued, “if a painting worth millions of dollars was in my father’s possession the last time you and I were together in that office . . .”
Nico sucked in a sharp breath as he followed my train of thought. “Then it would be subject to the divorce settlement, unless it was written into their prenup, which obviously it was not.”
“Exactly.” I tucked my knees under me, turning toward him. The excitement sparkling in his dark eyes mirrored my own. “And while you and I might not have the funds for a long legal battle, I know someone else who would be extremely happy to take his ass back to court over it. That will leave him to either reveal he’s lying about ownership or fork over millions to my mother for her half of the asset. Either way, it buys us time to make our own move.”
“You’re a genius,” he said, leaning over to kiss me. “An evil genius, in this case, which I’m finding almost disconcertingly attractive right now.”
I grinned. “Why, thank you. I even surprise myself sometimes. I was thinking, though, that maybe we should pursue another angle once we turn that information over to my mother. When’s the last time you went back to France?”
“France,” he repeated, frowning in confusion. “We went back just once since I moved here when I was what, four, five? For my sixteenth birthday.”
It was a long shot, I knew, but if Nico hadn’t found anything useful in his father’s belongings after the funeral, it was the only other option.
“Nico, if we can find anything, literally anything proving the link between that painting andyourfamily, we can discredit him completely.”
He was silent for a long moment.
“Discrediting him might have to be enough,” he said finally. “I don’t know if there’s any chance of that painting being returned to me, and I may have to accept that.”
I’d come to the same conclusion, though it pained me. As much as that painting symbolized family and history to Nico, to me it represented the only place in my entire childhood where I’d felt like I belonged.
Losing it would hurt. A lot.
I squeezed his hand and nodded. “I want to see him pay for what he did to you. But if we can’t get the painting back, we can at least ruin him.”
“There’s something else you need to know, Kitten.”
His solemn tone freaked me out. “What?”
He drew a deep breath before speaking. “There’s something hidden in the back of the painting, an SD card, embedded in the frame. I don’t know the details, but my father called it leverage.”
My lips parted in surprise. “Leverage. Like, dirt on my father?”
“I assume so. He said if something suspicious ever happened to him, I should take the painting and use that information to protect myself. He told me to get far away from your family if it came down to that.”
A tiny fissure of hurt zigzagged through my chest. “Were you going to leave?”
“No. Kitten, even when he told me about it, I wasn’t willing to leave you behind, and that was before all of this happened. If your father stumbles across whatever it is, though, he may assume I’m the one who put it there.”
“Shit,” I whispered.
“Yeah. And at this point, you’re linked with me, which means it might put you in danger, too.”
Something he’d said caught inside my head. “Something suspicious,” I murmured.
Nico stayed silent, watching me closely.
