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“Picasso,” Sebastian says, with a note of satisfaction in his voice. “The owner sold it to me cheap, after I bankrupted his company.”
Charming.
“What about that one?” I ask, pointing to the Rothko.
Sebastian’s smile grows. “That one I purchased at auction, five years ago. A Saudi prince wanted it, but I outbid him. And that one, it’s the last in a collection,” he adds, pointing to another painting. “There’s a financier in Rome who has all the other pieces. He calls every month, begging me to sell it to him, for double, triple what it’s worth.”
“Why don’t you?” I ask, even though I can guess the answer by now.
Sure enough, Sebastian gives a cool smile. “Because I do so enjoy hearing him beg.”
I realize, there’s nothing in this room that he actually enjoys. A room full of incredible art, and Sebastian wouldn’t care if they were hunks of metal. They’re all just trophies to him, ways of keeping score against his enemies.
What a waste.
“You must have pretty great security,” I joke wryly, as I follow him out of the room. “To have all of that just hanging on the walls.”
“Those are just copies,” Sebastian answers immediately. “The real ones are all in secure storage, of course.”
I blink at him. “So, you went through all the trouble of buying them, just to… lock them away in a vault somewhere, so nobody ever looks at them?”
“I didn’t buy them because I like them,” Sebastian says matter-of-factly. “I bought them because other people wanted them. And now, I have them. And they don’t.”
I exhale slowly. Sebastian takes ‘winner take all’ to a whole new level. It’s no wonder he walked straight into my trap at the poker table.
The chance to take Nero’s sweet, innocent girl from him must have been more tempting than any amount of cash.
He doesn’t realize yet how high a price he’ll pay.
Sebastian leads me down another hallway to the kitchen, and flips on a light. “What do you want?” he asks, and it takes me a second to realize, he’s talking about the food, not my quest for revenge.
“It’s fine, I can fix something,” I say quickly, not wanting to be alone with him any longer.
Not with the memory of his kiss still lingering in my bloodstream.
“You’re my guest,” Sebastian says. Then, before I can react, he grips me by my waist, and lifts me to sit on the countertop.
I gasp in surprise, but he’s already stepped away, moving to open the huge refrigerator.
“Sweet or savory?”
“Umm, sweet,” I venture, trying to play it cool.
This is what I wanted, remember? To make a connection with the man. See all the different sides to him, so I can figure out the best strategy for his destruction. And a midnight kitchen rendezvous may not be what I expected, but I need to keep sharp.
“That’s right,” Sebastian muses, shooting me a look. “You left dinner early, before it was time for dessert.”
The way his crisp English accent rolls over the word ‘dessert’is full of meaning. Suddenly, I realize, I’m in a thin nightgown and robe, perched up here on the counter in the dark kitchen.
Alone, and exposed.
“I kind of have a sweet tooth,” I blurt, feeling nervous. “I always ate too much candy as a kid. My mom said that Halloween was like my real Christmas, you know, because of all the trick-or-treating. She would take me to the nice neighborhoods, because they had better candy. Full-size, instead of just the mini ones.”
I’m babbling, I know, but at least it still fits my character. I send silent thanks to my former self when I was plotting this whole ruse. I didn’t realize at the time that picking a sweet, innocent cover story would be so helpful. If I had to try and play sophisticated and worldly right now…
Well, Sebastian would see through me in a heartbeat.
As it is, he looks amused pulling out a glass dish of something that looks like chocolate mousse and strolling back over to where I’m sitting on the counter.
