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When dinner is over, one of Leo’s drivers is waiting at the front door. Thomas, his name is. “Any stops on the way home?”
“No. Thanks.”
This SUV is different from the one Leo normally drives to dinner. This one is armored, which makes me want to throw up even more. It seems like the kind of thing he’d send in the event he died. More security, because if my brother actually died, I think there might be chaos. Maybe a real war between the families. Who knows. Anything could happen. I stare out the window all the way back to the city.
Thomas pulls to a stop in front of Motif and gets out to open my door. “I’ll walk you up.”
“I’m good,” I tell him. “You can go.”
He shakes his head. “I have orders to walk you up.”
Another wash of uneasiness and anger, followed by sheer worry. I stick my key into the alley door and go in ahead of him. He stops me with a hand on my arm and insists on going up the stairs first. The armored car is one thing, but this? I want to pull the pillow over my head and wish for morning.
We stop on the doormat. “I could do a sweep of the apartment,” Thomas offers, and I can tell he’s technically been ordered to do a sweep of the apartment.
I roll my eyes. “That won’t be necessary.” I unlock the door with a flourish and step into the dark. “See? I’m home safe. You did your job. Good to go.”
He glances behind me. I never leave lights on when I leave, so there’s nothing to see but shadows. “Have a good night, Daphne.”
“You too.” When I flip the lock on the door, I make it as loud as possible. Hopefully Thomas hears. I’m safe behind a locked door, and nothing can happen to me. I won’t be there for my brother because I must be sheltered. I’ll be safe. That’s what. Nothing but safe.
I step out of my heels, shrug off my coat, and pad into the kitchen. Dump my purse on the countertop. I need some water. Unshed tears sting my eyes. The taste of tomato soup won’t get out of my mouth. I fill up the glass in the dark. Leo is allowed to be worried, and he’s allowed to do something about it. I have to sit around and wait for Eva to tell me what’s happening. It’s not fair. And I know, I know. Life isn’t fair. But I can be pissed about it in my own kitchen when I’m alone. Heartsick about it.
The water’s not very cold, run from the tap, and it sloshes against the cup when I turn around.
Something’s in the living room.
My heart jumps up into my throat. A person? No. It’s square, and too short, like—Jesus, Daphne. I fumble for a light switch and turn on the light.
Like a painting.
Oh my god.
I creep closer like something might jump out from behind it, but nothing does. It’s an expensive frame and an even more expensive painting.
The Lehmann piece I mentioned at the beach.
I would know this painting anywhere, and not because I want to—because it’s famous. There are millions of postcards of this painting. Posters for people to hang in college dorms. Prints are sold everywhere.
This is the painting itself. This is the original. It’s worth at least a million dollars. Maybe more.
Itwasworth that much.
Someone has painted a giant X across the canvas in black spray paint.
I always thought this piece was garbage, as much as the man who painted it. Now it’s worthless trash.
Chapter Eleven
Emerson
For a fewdays, I leave her be.
I don’t go to the city to watch her apartment. I don’t call the gallery to find out if she has any new pieces. I don’t send a man in the city to follow her family members.
Nothing.
I treated the sale of her paintings like a normal acquisition, and I have not pressed for more.
