Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Jo?” he says when I don’t respond. “Are you ok?”
Is that concern I hear in his voice?
I don’t know, and now isn’t the time to get into a debate with myself about Axel’s tone of voice. I can’t tell him about this until I have spoken to Gavin. I mean, Axel hates me; if anyone is testing me, he would be the prime suspect, surely. Despite that being logically true, something tells me the covert nature of this ‘test’ isn’t Axel’s style. Besides, he might hate me, but he loved my father, and he wouldn’t do anything to risk making it look as though he had been fooled. Once I decide this isn’t Axel’s doing, I can’t stop the words from rushing out.
“I need to call Gavin. There’s a problem with the next painting. It’s a fake.”
He stills, and I see the disbelief flash in his eyes. He definitely hasn’t set this up to test me. His reaction is too immediate, too real.
“That’s impossible. You must be mistaken,” he says.
“No,” I say firmly. “I’m not.” I am confident in my work, and while I might not know how or why that painting is there, I do know it’s a fake. “I checked the pigments, the brush work, everything. They used a shade of blue that wasn’t available in the eighteenth century when this painting was created. I’m not wrong.”
His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue further. “Show me.”
I know I should call Gavin, but what can it harm having someone else to look at my evidence? It’s not like another ten minutes is going to make a difference. I find myself agreeing, and we walk back to the vault. I can’t help but glance surreptitiously at Axel as we walk. The air of authority in his stride is impossible to ignore – and yes, it’s as sexy as all hell. My pulse has picked up again, and the adrenaline starts buzzing under my skin, but this time, it has nothing to do with any painting, fake or otherwise. We go into the vault, and Axel crosses the floor to my workstation, where the painting remains laid out.
He stops in front of the painting, and I point to the blue cup, then to a few of the brush strokes that betray the modern hand, explaining what gives them away as fake.
He leans in closer, and his hand brushes mine as he gestures towards a spot near the cup. Electricity shoots through my entire body, and I experience an involuntary jolt. My breath catches. I know, instinctively, that he feels it too, because his frown deepens, and he steps back. The faintest edge of tension now hangs between us, the air silent but charged.
“Are you certain?” he asks, voice clipped but careful.
“Yes,” I say, a little shakily. “It’s a very good fake, but it’s a fake. I’ve never been wrong about something like this before.”
He studies me for a long moment, and I force myself to hold his gaze without blinking. Finally, he looks away, walks around it, then lets out a low sound of acknowledgment.
“I believe you.”
The weight of the discovery was heavy, but there’s a shift in the atmosphere, and I feel like part of the weight has been lifted from me now that Axel knows about this situation and believes it. I sense him calculating what should happen next, weighing the implications, thinking through the possibilities.
“Don’t call Gavin yet,” he says finally. “We’ll figure this out ourselves.”
I blink at him, surprised. “You mean just the two of us?”
“Yes,” he says. His green eyes meet mine, unwavering. “We’ll handle this. Carefully. Professionally. Quietly. Do you think you can do that?”
I nod. “I think I’ll manage. Actually, I have a theory. What if someone is testing me? Maybe Gavin, and that’s why I wanted to call him. You know, to see if I would notice a fake, and prove if I am the real deal. I know it would be tempting to use the first painting for that, but they might have thought that was too obvious, that I would be extra vigilant with the first one.”
“It’s not about you,” Axel shoots back immediately. “Gavin would never dare to show up Joseph’s daughter. Not in a million years. Not his style.”
I feel a flush of embarrassment creeping over me. He’s right. Gavin is too subtle, too professional to be so sneaky. Now Axel has pointed that out, I think he’s probably right about the motive too. This isn’t about me. My mind automatically flips through the other possibilities. However unlikely it is that Joseph was duped, it has to be considered at least.
“Do we have records of who Joseph bought this painting from?” I ask.
Axel leans against the table edge. “Of course, provenance is everything in this business, but that won’t help. It’s impossible that he bought a fake. Your father had no interest in stolen stuff, where there are a lot of fakes going around. No, he always used a respected art dealer to buy or bid for him. One of the best. She has a team of experts who would have spotted it.”