Marseilles. Two days later…
“The contract was for a Van Gogh,” Gordon grumbled.
Bene shifted from foot to foot, catching my eye.
“A Van Gogh. Not a Monet, a Manet, or even a Picasso. A Van Gogh,” Gordon emphasized. “I don’t expect you lot to have my goddaughter’s taste in art, but this is really too much.”
Bene muttered into my mind.What would he say about his goddaughter’s taste in men?
I shot him a look to kill.
“Yes, sir,” Roux agreed. “But unfortunately — might I say, tragically — the Van Gogh was destroyed in the blaze. We were lucky to get out with this.”
“Not lucky. Brave,” Bene added, laying it on thick. “Roux insisted we go back for it, even when the roof started to collapse.” He patted the tiger shifter on the back.
Interestingly, the fire didn’t seem to bother Gordon. He didn’t say as much, but clearly, there was bad blood between him and Baumann. He’d even muttered,That ass got what he deserved.
So, we didn’t have to explain the fire. But we did have to talk him into the Monet.
“Sir, if I may…” Henrik gestured to the painting. “This artwork has much more subtlety and depth than the Van Gogh. Surely, your client will appreciate that.”
I wasn’t so sure about depth, because both looked equally out of focus to me. But, hell. What did I know about art?
Gordon paced, regarding the painting from different angles. Eventually, he looked at Roux with a pained expression. “Monet, you say?”
“Yes, sir. Monet.”
The room went very, very quiet as Gordon looked at each of us in turn. Roux, I sensed, held his breath. Hell, I did too.
Finally, Gordon grumbled and pointed to the door. “You’re dismissed. Considering this is not the requested piece, you get three rather than four days off. Report to me from Auberre at this time Thursday for your next assignment.” He checked hiswatch, then motioned for us to leave. “Oh, and I expect the next job to go more smoothly than this.”
“Yes, sir,” Roux said gravely.
“And not a word to Mina, you understand?” Gordon added ominously.
Bene looked at me. I stared at the wall. A vein in Henrik’s forehead started to twitch.
“Not a word, sir,” Roux barked, using sheer volume to wipe any trace of the lie.
“Good. You’re dismissed.” Gordon gestured to the door.
“Sir, about our days off. I really think—” Bene started.
“Not a word. Out,” Gordon barked.
“Yes, sir,” Bene said, sounding glum.
I could see his eyes dance, though. We’d pulled it off!
We filed down the long, echoing hall of Gordon’s imposing villa a stone’s throw from Palais Longchamp and out into the sun. The nearest Metro stop was only a few blocks away, and we managed to keep straight faces for most of the way.
Bene was the first to break into a grin. “Three days isn’t four, but I won’t complain.” He smacked Henrik on the back in glee. “Three days off without you yo-yos. Paris, here I come!”
Roux muttered something about Toulouse, while Henrik slunk off, leaving us without a word. I joined the other two on the Metro to the main train station.
“You think Henrik will stay in Marseilles and try to make up with Delphine?” Bene asked as we pulled out of the station.
I had no idea. But one thing was carved in stone. I was heading straight back to Château Nocturne.
