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“I do.”
He nodded. “Perhaps a Renoir, then?” Dasselaar walked across the room, not even looking to see if I was following. “This isMadeleine Leaning on her Elbow with Flowers in her Hair,though I’m sure someone with your eye already recognized it.”
Affecting Quin’s art pose, I studied the painting. I had no idea if it was real or if it was even worth anything. “A Renoir, you say? How do I know it is not an exemplary reproduction?”
Dasselaar was a good enough actor to look shocked by the thinly veiled accusation, then smiled. “It is a worthwhile question. I can, in fact, prove its legitimacy.”
“Documentation can also be forged.”
“Indeed it can.” There was something in Dasselaar’s tone that made me think there was a lot of document forgery happening in his gallery, and I made a mental note to call Quin the second I had a chance to find out what he knew about the Renoir.If Dasselaar had acquired the painting legally, I might die of shock. “But I offer my private clients something far better.”
He snapped his fingers, and a handsome young man I hadn’t noticed emerged from the corner. He was tall and leanly muscled, all his features long and fine, but the more I tried to focus on him, the harder it was to make out individual characteristics. Except for his eyes. They were almost perfectly round and the most vivid shade of green I’d ever seen. There was no way he wasn’t a shifter, but I couldn’t detect his scent, so I had no way to know which kind. He must have been the target of Dasselaar’s vitriol when we’d entered the gallery.
“Dimitri, prove to Mr. Smith that the Renoir is authentic.”
Something niggled at the back of my mind. Hadn’t Amanda mentioned something about a young man who’d gone missing from a gallery in Amsterdam? Hadn’t she said his name was Dimitri? He sure as hell didn’t look happy to be working for Dasselaar, and I definitely didn’t like the way Dasselaar had threatened him.
The young man’s jaw clenched tight, his eyes narrowing at Dasselaar, but he approached the painting anyway, holding his hand out and letting it hover a few inches over the canvas.
Almost immediately, his skin changed, adopting the colors of the painting behind it until I couldn’t tell what was his skin and what was the painting.
What the actual fuck.
“As you can see, Dimitri’s talent proves the legitimacy of the painting.”
I snapped my mouth closed and shook my head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Dasselaar clapped me on the back and wrapped a meaty arm around my shoulder while Dimitri moved his hand around the painting, his skin changing with each new section he stopped over.
“Dimitri’s talent only works when the paint on the canvas is authentic. If this were a fake, the colors would be off. Let me show you.” Dasselaar dropped his arm from my shoulders and bellowed for a member of his staff, his voice echoing through the gallery. “Evi, bring me the Vermeer.”
Footsteps sounded above us followed by the sound of someone walking downstairs. A few moments later, another woman appeared, this one with dark hair cut into a severe bob. She held a simple frame with a painting I recognized asGirl with a Pearl Earring. I didn’t know shit about technique or anything, but I would never have guessed it was fake. Quin would probably have been able to tell.
Dasselaar gestured to the painting. “This piece is a forgery done by an art thief named Martina Lisica, better known in certain circles as Lady Fox.”
My breath lodged in my lungs. He knew Amanda Vanderkaamp. I did everything I could to tamp down my reaction, but Jack must have felt it anyway because I heard him say, “On my way,” through the comm I still had in my ear.
“Watch what happens.” Evi held the picture out flat. Dimitri tried to resist showing off his skill, but Dasselaar growled and grabbed his wrist, bringing it over the painting. Where the colors had been clear before, his skin seamlessly blending into the canvas of the Renoir, these colors were murky, and they didn’tquite match the painting. It was like Dimitri’s skin couldn’t pick the right color to match.
“This is what happens when someone tries to fake the formulas for oil paints from past centuries. The true colors come out.” Dasselaar released Dimitri’s hand and shoved the young man away.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say something about his treatment, but Jack appeared at my side. “My apologies, what did I miss?”
CHAPTER
TWENTY
JACK
“I shall put togetherthe necessary paperwork and have it ready for you by week’s end. We can finalize the sale then.” Dasselaar ushered us to the front of the gallery.
Cal shook his hand. “Yes, that works well for us. We can also discuss secure transportation to the States.”
“Indeed.”
While Dimitri had stayed within Dasselaar’s sight, he hadn’t spoken again, and Cal gave him a subtle wave when Dasselaar turned away. A deep frown creased Cal’s brow, but I couldn’t get a read on his emotions through our bond. It felt like they were jumping all over the place.
Out on the street, I took my mate’s hand, knowing Dasselaar was watching through the windows. “What the hell was that?”
