Page 24 of Forging Caine

“Yes, Pasquale?” She fluttered her eyelashes, pretending to be unaware of his obvious knowledge that she was more than she seemed.

As his gaze shifted to me, his irritation eased. “I had another conservator repair some damage, and he did a poor job. I don’t want to run that risk again.”

I ran my finger along the work. “They didn’t use a fill-in medium when they repaired it, so the cut is still visible. The two sides of the cut meet, and it’s fine from ten feet away, but as soon as you get close, it’s obvious.”

“Exactly.” Fiori leaned back, bringing his clasped hands to his chest. “My artwork is to be enjoyed close-up, especially a piece with such detail. It looks like someone taped the back of it together and threw paint at it to cover it up.”

Tilting my head, I took in the way the light played over the repair, a shadow casting across the surface. It went straight through the instructor’s nose, making it appear to have been broken. And his eye? Terrible.

“I refused to pay the other conservator the balance of his invoice, I was so offended. But this is what I get for trying to rush the job, instead of sending it to a company as professional as Ferraro’s.”

I sat down, pulling my chair closer to Samantha’s. “Papa should have time to look at it, I think.”

“No.” Fiori’s word was a simple commandment, clear he was unaccustomed to people declining his requests. “I wantyouto take care of it.”

There had to be something else going on. His insistence made no sense. “Assuming a professional did the work, no matter the quality of the execution, I should be able to remove the varnish and touch-ups, then redo them. What happened to it? Knowing that will help me with the project.”

Fiori reached over and closed the lid. “My ship hit a swell and my wife tripped, breaking a glass that cut through it.”

The cut looked too clean for that to explain it. Even so, I nodded.

“How long do you think the repair will take?”

Samantha asked, “How long are you in town?”

“That depends.” He picked up his wineglass and took a sip, giving no hint of what it depended on.

“Mi dispiace, but Samantha and I are planning to travel in a few days. We’ll be gone at least two weeks, so I won’t be able to work on it right away.”

Fiori shook his head slightly. “I don’t enjoy repeating myself, so let me try this: You owe me. And I’m calling in the favor. I want the painting fixed this week.”

Owed him what? After his kindness when Samantha hurt her ankle, we’d called it even because I had another of his paintings repaired by my Zio Andrea. I left nothing on the table—I made sure of that.

Nervous energy jostled around inside my chest. Did he mean what happened in January? Was he saying I owed him because Giovanni had the Pompeiian fresco stolen back from him? Or because Samantha ruined Fiori’s intended theft of one of Giovanni’s paintings?

Was there any other reason I might have owed him? Or was this more a threat than a request?

“Honey…” Samantha laid a gentle hand on my forearm. The only time she ever used that term was when we were investigating as a signal for me to pay attention. She’d already decided I was taking this job, no matter how I felt about it. “We haven’t booked the tickets yet. I’m sure you can work on this piece.”

So much for Papa’s mysterious letter being the thing to hold her back from our vacation.

“I mean, Pasquale was so kind and helpful when I hurt my ankle last year. It’s the least we can do.” She turned the fluttering eyelashes on me.

All it did was increase the speed of the nerves crashing around inside me. “Of course, bella. You know I can’t say no to you.”

“It’s settled then.” Fiori took a napkin from his lap, dropped it to the table, and stood. “I’ll call you tomorrow to check in.”

I rose, and Samantha followed my lead. “It’s Friday now. I’ll work on it over the weekend. How about you call on Sunday evening? That should give me enough time to provide a more accurate estimate.”

“Until Sunday, then.” Fiori handed me a slip of paper with three numbers. “The combination for the case.” He nodded to Samantha, then he and Jason left.

Once Fiori and both of his bodyguards were out of sight, Samantha’s arms wrapped around me from behind, and she rested her head against my shoulder. “I don’t feel up to dessert. Do you?”

I placed my hands over hers and craned my head back to kiss her hair. This entire miserable day was almost over. “I’ll pay for the wine, then let’s go home, bella.”

Once we got there, I’d fix everything. I would make the evening as perfect as it should have been for my return.

Chapter 9

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