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)
“But we don’t know which one is most likely yet. I’ll do some digging,” Axel says. “Your father used a private investigator a lot. Maybe I’ll give him a call.”
I take a sip of my sparkling water, trying not to get lost in the way the sunlight catches on his cheekbones.
“So, in short,” I say, leaning forward. “Everyone we might have thought could do it is ruled out for motive, opportunity, or both, except these friends. But we don’t know which one is the most likely suspect.”
“Exactly,” he says. His voice is calm, but there’s an undercurrent of something, focus maybe, maybe something else, that makes me swallow hard. “Before I involve the PI, I’ll start working through my contacts in the art world, see who might have moved the original, or commissioned the fake one. We’ll figure it out.”
“Meanwhile, I’ll start examining the other paintings, and check for more inconsistencies. There might be something we missed.”
He glances at me, and I feel my stomach twist deliciously. The way he looks at me is not cold, not dismissive. There’s recognition, almost an acknowledgment that I can hold my own in this. My pulse hitches.
“You’re good,” he says finally, his tone still clipped but approving. “Better than most people I’d trust with this, but don’t let that go to your head.”
I roll my eyes, and there’s the barest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
We sit in silence for a moment, eating quietly, the tension between us shifting and crackling in that way that makes me acutely aware of him, the warmth of his proximity, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something woodsy, the way his shoulders fill the chair, the way his fingers tap the side of his plate almost absentmindedly.
I can’t help the flutter in my chest as I sneak glances at Axel, at the new closeness between us, at the unspoken understanding between us. There’s a lot I don’t know about him, a lot I’m probably not supposed to know yet, but for this moment, we are a team. And beneath the strategic, methodical conversation about forgery and theft, the air between us hums with something else. Something unspoken. Something dangerous. And I won’t lie. I like it.
Chapter
Eighteen
JO
The conservatory is quiet, the buffet mostly eaten, although the faint smell of barbecued meat and blue cheese still lingers in the air. Axel leans back in his wicker chair, arms folded over his chest, staring out at the gardens like he’s considering something far larger than our painting investigation. I take a bite out of my chocolate tart and grin, the tension of the past hour easing slightly.
“Well,” I say. “We’ve managed to have a civil conversation for at least half an hour without bickering or nearly coming to blows.”
He glances at me, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Yeah. Maybe you’re not all bad,” he says casually, but there’s a small softness in the edges of his mouth that makes me feel like I’ve just scored a minor victory.
Emboldened by the new civility, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
“You know,” I start, “I’ve got to ask. Why do you hate me so much?”
He looks at me seriously, his eyes locking on mine, the intensity immediately grounding me.
“You want the truth?” he asks me, his voice steady and unyielding.
I nod, daring him to continue.
“It’s because of that email,” he says, his voice almost a growl, but with an anger beneath it that catches me off guard. “The email you sent your father when you were about to turn eighteen. Right when he was about to contact you.”
I frown, confused. “What? I … What email?”
Axel’s gaze hardens, and he exhales slowly. “That email when you coldly informed him that you had no interest in ever knowing him. And if he ever tried to contact you, you said you would ruin him.” His eyes flare, a sudden flash of anger mixed with grief. “That email broke him, Jo. It was the only time I ever saw him cry.” His hands clench as he looks away from me. As if he can’t bear to look at me.
“I loved Joseph like the father I never had. I had to work so hard for his approval and love. And you - you had him in the palm of your hand, and what did you do? You treated him like dirt. You never wanted to know the man, but here you are, the cold fortune hunter wanting a share of his money.”
I feel my chest tighten. Hearing this, I guess it kind of makes sense why he hated me so much before he’d even exchanged a word with me.
“Axel, I swear to you, I never sent that email,” I whisper, my voice breaking slightly. “I … I never knew who my father was. My mother never told me who he was. She told me she got pregnant during a one-night stand. I spent my whole life wishing I knew him, and I didn’t come here for money. I actually had no idea who he was. I came because Gavin phoned me and told me my father was barely alive and asking for me. I thought I finally had a chance to get to know him.”