Page 19 of A Dangerous Bargain

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He talks over me like I’ve said nothing. He stumbles forward, grabbing both my wrists. “I need your help.”

I gasp at the coldness of his fingers. He’s never touched me before, unless he was trying to jostle me out of the way for the best workspace each morning. Perhaps I didn’t just bump into his bookcase: It fell down and crushed me, and this is the very first level of my own personal hell. “What are you talking about?”

He squeezes my wrists, brow divoting. “I need your help with the Medici wedding portrait. I can’t do it alone.”

I glance at the bookcase to see if it’s still there and not pinning my broken body to the floor and drowning me in an avalanche of Leonardo’s saucy sketches, but no, it’s still standing.

“You want my help?” Because I’m supposed to be asking him for help.

Leonardo nods vigorously, red-blond hair flying.

We stare at each other some more while I wait for what he said to make sense.

“You remember I can’t paint right now, right?” I say. There’s no way I could possibly be useful to him. He’s the one who bailed me out of my last deadline.

The stairs creak behind us. I yank myself from Leonardo’s grip before someone sees us holding hands and making prolonged eye contact. Unlike the good God-fearing masses, no one in Master Verrocchio’s workshop cares who fornicates with whom, but I’d rather die than have anyone think I might care for him that way.

“It’s best if you don’t pick up a brush or charcoal or anything. I haven’t forgotten the millipede dog,” Leonardo says.

“All right?” His explanation isn’t making anything clearer.

He collapses against the wall, rubbing his temples. “I just need you there while I do it, really. Maybe offer some thoughts here and there.”

“That doesn’t really sound like me helping.”

“No, it is,” he says. “ ’Tis odd, but… I do my best work when another person is around. Trying to work on that portrait while the competition stares over my shoulder—” He blows out a breath and drags a hand through his hair. “I get all in my head about it and can’t do anything.”

This almost makes sense, except… “I’m the person who makes you relax enough to work?”

Unless I’m very much mistaken, our entire relationship is based on mutual dislike and a begrudging respect for the other’s talents. I can’t imagine a world where I’m the person Leonardo wants at his side, unless we’re both being kidnapped by Venetian pirates, and he plans to use me as a convenient distraction to escape.

“Verrocchio also told me if I don’t finish this painting, he might have to kick me out,” Leonardo adds sheepishly. “I haven’t finished any of my work yet this year.”

Ah, so here’s the real reason he wants me around. I snort, thinking of how many mornings I saw the love marks on his neck and his kiss-bruised lips. “Surely someone would take you in.”

He crosses his arms and frowns. “If you’re going to be a monster about it, don’t bother.” His eyes drag to mine. They’re a deep umber, and the room is too dark for me to see what he’s really feeling. “Will you come with me tomorrow or not?”

I tap my chin, pretending to consider the offer, then nod. I don’t want to seem too eager to work with him, even though inside, I’m soaring. I didn’t have to ask Leonardo for help—he begged me to help him. I sidestepped the whole being-honest nonsense and got what I wanted. About time some good fortune fell into my lap!

Someone coughs delicately.

Lupa stands behind Leonardo in the corridor, a grumpy tortoiseshell-colored cat in her arms. She must’ve been the person who came up the stairs, and she was clearly listening to our conversation. She catches my eye and lifts her brows meaningfully. She nods at the cat in her arms, and then toward the stairs to my attic. The threat is clear: If I’m not honest with Leonardo, she really will piss on my bed like a cat. Sod it all to hell.

Sighing, I drag my hands down my face. “I wanted to ask you for a favor too.”

Leonardo’s entire presence shifts into a higher key. “Oh, really now?”

Even with Lupa’s threat, it’s hard to force the words out. “I know I don’t share much about myself—”

He snorts. “A grave understatement. You’re a strongbox someone’s chained shut and buried—”

“But do you remember when my brother disappeared two years ago?”

He sobers at once. “Of course I do. That was awful.”

An heir’s disappearance from a wealthy merchant’s family was sensational news. Vanished, without a note or a record of where he’d gone! His poor mamma and siblings! Could you believe it? Verrocchio gave me the space I needed afterward, but the other apprentices hadn’t. They were filled with questions, as if my brother’s disappearance was a story they were eager to read, and not my actual life. I endured as much as I could before snarling that if anyone ever brought up Niccolo again, I’d snap their smallest finger. I immediately felt like a monster, but no one bothered me afterward. Come to think of it, I feel like I remember Leonardo shepherding more zealous boys away from me when they inched closer. The memory makes me feel awkward now—like I shouldn’t have forgotten it.

“Right. Well, since then, I’ve been supporting my mother and sisters financially. If we won this wedding commission—assuming you’re fine with splitting the prize money—it would help.” Fifty florins isn’t enough to buy Casa delle Volpi outright, but it would be enough for a substantial payment on the outstanding balance. “I think… I think if you’re struggling to paint, and I’m struggling to paint, we could do better work together than we could apart.” My throat tightens. I barely manage to get the truth out before I choke on it. “I needed this commission so badly, and I was too scared to even try to get it.”