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So hewasusing the authenticating software. Of course. He had two things to compare and had no doubt already scanned the first one she’d brought.
Saskia wondered if she imagined the threat—as if Marcus might restrain her should anything suspicious be found.
“I thought Eli...”
“Eli was only needed for the forgery. I wanted his opinion on how good you were. I’ll be able to see the differences between that and the original you’ve brought me. Something wrong, Miss Roth?”
Saskia shrank back, trying to wipe her face of all expression. “N-no.”
“Thisisthe original Quill nude isn’t it?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good. You will wait.” Lachlan opened the door and called for Marcus, then disappeared down the hallway with the new forgery.
Marcus looked unhappy with the babysitting assignment, just as he’d looked unhappy fetching her the last time she’d been here.
“You really don’t have to stay,” she said.
Marcus just glared and slouched into the chair opposite her. Saskia straightened the strap on her dress again. At least this time she didn’t have to keep pulling her skirt down. The fabric of the evening gown reached the floor.
The only sounds brave enough to intrude upon the room were the flickering fire spitting in the grate and the rhythmic tick of the clock on the mantel. Marcus didn’t engage. He simply watched her in the way a sociopath might watch a small animal drawing its last breath.
An agonizing hour passed as Saskia’s fear reached a fever pitch. She was sure Lachlan would burst through the door at any moment, shouting and threatening her.
Finally, he returned. “Marcus, you can go.”
Lachlan sat behind the desk. Saskia’s eyes darted again to the glass sex toy between them, as if it acting as a paperweight were completely normal. Maybe he didn’t know what it... no of course he knew what it was. He was a grown man. Just the shape and size of it...
Marcus slipped out the door.
When they were alone, Quill said, “I’m satisfied. I’ve already wired the money to your account. Tomorrow, you can log on and see that everything is in order. Goodnight, Miss Roth. It was a pleasure working with you. I hope we meet again.”
That was it? He wasn’t going to make another creepy pass at her? Not that she wanted that. It was just that the fear of what he might try to do the next time she saw him had sat as a background horror track for the past several months as the days lurched on moving closer and closer to this moment. This moment where he’d gone back to studying something on his computer screen as if he’d lost all interest in her.
Well, so much the better. For her part, she hoped there was never a reason for their paths to cross again.
4
Four months, three weeks, and two glorious days had passed since Saskia had run off with twelve million dollars of Lachlan’s money while Joseph Quill’s nude remained unmolested at the Raine Estate. Even with sunglasses, she had to shield her eyes against the blazing sun at Venice’sPiazza San Marco, or as the locals called it,la Piazza.
She never tired of coming here. On first arriving, she’d bought up every tourist-y book she could get her hands on and learned everything she could. ThePiazza San Marcohad supposedly once been called the drawing room of Europe by Napoleon. Whether he’d truly said it or not could never be proven, but it felt true nonetheless. This place kept drawing her back to it.
After a couple months of traveling and seeing everything she could think to cram into that time—every famous art museum and gallery dotted across the world—she’d finally settled back in Venice. The tropical island idea had gotten boring after two weeks. Italy was where she belonged. It was an artist’s paradise.
Sometimes she liked to sit inside St. Mark’s Basilica, staring up at the awe-inspiring gold mosaics so long it made her neck hurt. Even with tourists fluttering about, the space felt sacred. But even inside a church as grand as St. Mark’s Saskia had barely a flutter of guilt about her crime. Why should she? Lachlan had billions. Twelve million was so laughable he wouldn’t have missed it if she’d taken it right out of his bank account while he looked the other way.
“Having fun, Miss Roth?”
That voice.
Saskia considered running, screaming, anything but turning around to confirm who she knew stood just behind her, his hot breath mixing with the warm breeze against her neck.
She exhaled.
People ran into people—even in Venice. There was no reason to think he knew...
“If you run, I’ll have you arrested.”
