AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Seconds later, I’m out.
*****
PRYING MY EYES OPEN, I see Alessandro pacing up and down a wall. Wait. No. I’m lying down. Blinking, I bring my vision into better focus and try to right myself. Alessandro glances in my direction, then resumes pacing. I can feel his anxiety.
We’re not in a pawnshop—far from it. We’re in a room with gleaming hardwood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook rolling hills, a ten-foot wide fireplace above which hangs a...Degas? I sit up straight on the soft leather sofa I was laying on and stare at the painting of six ballerinas in vibrant yellow tutus, gathered behind a curtain as they wait to take their turn on stage. It’s not a piece I’m familiar with, but it could easily hang alongside Edgar Degas’ “Blue Dancers” or “The Ballet Class.”
Mesmerized by the painting’s resemblance to Degas’ works, I delay processing my situation in favor of getting up and taking a closer look. I examine the flounces of the ballet skirts, the grunge-style coloring of the wall behind the dancers, their varied positions, and the shine on their bows. Incredible. One could easily believe this was a work by the great Impressionist himself. I almost want to touch it to see if it’s real.
“That is an authentic Degas.”
I whirl around to find myself staring into dark brown eyes, the darkest, most mesmerizing eyes I’ve ever seen. Despite my attempts to look beyond them, I drown in their depths. The gaze binds me, rooting me to my spot. I can’t move. I can’t talk.
“No shit?” Alessandro whistles. “The price tag on that thing must be—”
The man looks over at Alessandro and appears a little irritated at him for talking. Alessandro instantly shuts up.
Free from the gaze of those intense eyes, I’m able to take in more of him, from his black hair slicked back from the brow to a square jawline. His lips are incredibly sensuous, and perhaps owing to the late hour in the day, a faint shadow hovers above his upper lip and graces his chin.
Dressed in a dark gray suit over a white button-up shirt, he fits his surroundings. Unlike me in my ripped jeans from Goodwill, sweatshirt, and white sneakers that are no longer white. Now that Peter and I have gotten much better at our “occupation,” I can afford to get some decent apparel. But I’m used to thrift store clothes. Plus, I’ve heard that buying used clothes is better for the environment, so I can say that I contribute something good to society.
“It’s priceless,” I answer Alessandro as I stare at the stranger’s lips again...until he looks back to me. His gaze compels me to meet his.
I’m free once more when he looks at the painting. I’ve got to get myself together. Whatever they jabbed me with is still messing with my head.
The man walks over and stands next to me. We admire the painting together.
“I’m not familiar with this one,” I say. Even though I’m curious, I don’t question how he can be sure that the painting is actually Degas versus an impressive reproduction, because he sounds certain and I don’t want to risk upsetting him. Despite his cool exterior, I get the sense a fire blazes within.
“Most of the world isn’t,” he explains. “It was found in the attic of Joubert, a contemporary of Degas and a man with whom Degas often quarreled. They were both part of the same independent exhibiting society and fought over the inclusion of more traditional artists like Jean-Louis Forain and Jean-François Raffaëlli. The night before an exhibition, this painting went missing. It is believed Joubert stole it out of spite.”
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur.
I feel his gaze upon me, but I force myself to focus on the painting. If I look in his direction, I’ll start drowning again. I wonder how this man came into possession of the artwork and what his role is in my abduction.
Abduction. Holy shit. I don’t know where I am, how long I’ve been passed out, who I’m standing next to, and what’s going to happen to me and Alessandro.
I look over to the sofa I was lying on to see if my bag is there. It isn’t. Two men, one of them with a short ponytail and the other bald and broad-shouldered, stand near while another guy guards the double-door entry. My heartbeat quickens.
Alessandro walks up. “Rafe—Mr. Lee, you’ll have your painting. We just have a small hiccup.”
My eyes widen at the name. This is the triad guy?
Rafe turns to Alessandro. “You’re over a week late. I’m tired of waiting.”
“I know, I know, and I’m sorry. But Priscilla here was going to tell me where it is.”
I glare at Alessandro. “I told you—Peter delivered it to your shop.”
“He didn’t!”
“Priscilla,” Rafe repeats, as if the name tastes weird on his tongue. “I’ve never met a Priscilla before.”
I’ve never met a Rafe before.But I keep my mouth shut. He’s a criminal whose crimes, if Alessandro is telling the truth, could includemurder.Plus, those guards by the door probably have guns. I wonder how dangerous this Rafe guy really is, but I can’t tell from his demeanor. He’s hard to read. I can’t even tell how old he is. He looks young, like he could be mid-twenties, but the depth in his voice sounds older, like late thirties.
He turns to me, and it’s like my brain is frozen when I’m caught in his gaze. He takes me in from head to toe. He doesn’t show a reaction, but I’m guessing he’s not that impressed. I lift my chin.Looks can be deceiving, mister.
“So you’re the thief Alessandro hired,” Rafe says.
