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‘Which one?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Well, if you mean the forged painting, then I assume that is back in Sharjarhere with Sheikh Abrani. And you surely can’t mean the ‘real’ painting because, according to you, that was never here as I was mistaken in my valuation.’
The stick-thin man started to go a little pink in the face.
‘Because any other option,’ Sia continued, ‘would mean that the painting was stolen and replaced with a forgery under the watchful gaze of Bonnaire’s. And that Bonnaire’s was subsequently involved in a cover-up, which at best would be seen as perverting the course of justice and at worst would involve a much deeper criminal investigation into the practices of the auction house. It could even go back years. Who knows?’ She shrugged with all the mock innocence she could muster. It wasn’t hard because she suddenly felt the full force of disdain for a company that was clearly as corrupt as the Sheikh himself.
‘That sounds very much like a threat, Ms Keating, which could end very badly for you. And you would be wise not to let emotions get in the way.’
Fury wound through her and for the first time, instead of shying away from it, she embraced it. ‘You appear to be accusing me of becoming emotional? Well, you’re right. I am emotional. Very, I’d say on reflection. There are quite a number of emotions running through me right now. Feelings of anger, righteousness, power, desire—desire to see justice done, even. Every single one of them not making me worse at what I do, but better.
‘Just not better for you,’ she stated, watching the two men become an interesting shade of puce. ‘So I will be handing in my notice, effective immediately, and you will be paying me my last month’s wages, in spite of the suspension. You will do this because I know, and you know, that Bonnaire’s does not want me to pay a visit to the police. And,’ she said, turning to the larger of the two, ‘this is more than a threat. It’s a promise. It is also the last time I will see you. Because next time? You will be the ones needing a lawyer.’
Her heart racing wildly but ecstatically, Sia left the building, her hands white-knuckled around the briefcase, feeling a kind of adrenaline high she’d never experienced before. She was thriving on a personal power she’d had no idea she possessed. Before Sebastian she would never have had the courage to do that. Everything in her knew that it was the right thing to have done. With Bonnaire’s so insistent that she tell a lie to save them, they didn’t deserve the painting. And she didn’t deserve them.
She rushed out onto the front steps of the building, determined to find Sebastian. Not because he’d helped her to see the truth about the company she used to work for, and not because he might have given her the world’s most expensive gift, but because she loved him. She’d known it for days. But she wanted him to know it too. Perhaps if she maxed out her credit cards she could get to Siena. A last-minute flight might cost a fortune but it would be—
She came to a crashing halt, briefcase swinging by her side.
There, parked highly illegally on a red line on Goodge Street, attracting more attention than anyone had a right to, was Sebastian Rohan de Luen, leaning against another stunning convertible sports car, hands in his pockets, hair a bit of a mess and with a fair bit of stubble, looking every inch the disreputable playboy he was.
But he was hers.
For a second, she just stared at him. Her eyes raked over every inch of him, searing the image onto her mind and heart, delighting in the way he pulled his arms from his pockets and crossed them over his chest, as if to stop himself from reaching for her. The way his eyes lit on her face and not once moved, not even to the briefcase dangling at her side.
And then she felt a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, one that seemed connected to the endless joy, the love building in her chest. It grew broader and broader and the moment that he smiled back she launched across the pavement, threw herself into his arms and when he picked her up she wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him like she’d never kissed before.
‘I love you.’
‘Dammit,’ he said, his lips still pressed against hers. ‘I wanted to say it first.’
‘Tough.’
‘Well, I’ll just have to say it more. I love you. I love you. I love you,’ he said, punctuating each one with a kiss.
‘Not everything’s a game, you know,’ she teased as he lowered her down to the ground, but she refused to move from his hold.
‘You still have the painting,’ he said, his eyes still not leaving hers.
‘Yes.’
‘You could have given it to them if you’d wanted. I need you to know that,’ he said with all the sincerity she could ever wish for, soothing away some of the hurts of their last encounter.
‘Well, as you gave me the painting, I’m assuming I wouldn’t have needed your permission,’ she teased.
‘Nope, absolutely not. I just...it’s important to me that you know the painting is completely yours to do with as you wish. Because you are more important to me than the painting. Than anything.’
Her heart soared with his words and with wonder. He loved her. She shook her head a little. He’d given her so much. And the gesture that he had made, of love, of trust, that must have cost him so much emotionally, could only be matched by one thing.
‘I’m not really that sure what painting you’re talking about. Because I haven’t opened the briefcase.’
‘You haven’t?’ He pulled back, staring at her a little as if she had lost her mind.
‘I didn’t need to,’ she said, reaching up to cup his jaw, relishing the feeling of the stubble tickling her palm. ‘Whether this painting is the Durrántez, a Monet or a Pissarro, I love you and I trust you. And I want to thank you. Because you showed me that it was okay to be all of me. To want more, to be more, to be bright and shiny and powerful.’ As she said the words she felt them working a magic within her. Not only knowing that they were true, but feeling it as well. ‘That wanting to be more, wanting more, wouldn’t make me selfish or mean, but that it would make me strong. And part of that strength is drawn from the love that I feel for you.’
Sebastian took her hand and placed it on his heart, desperate for her to know, to feel how much her words meant to him. ‘And I want to thank you. You showed me how to make peace with my past, so that I could be free to make a different future for myself. A future I want to make with you. I want to ha
