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“Bingo.”
Collectables lined the walls and he walked straight up to a painting, hooking it off the wall carefully. I frowned, tilting my head.
“That’s what we’re here for?”
“Yep. I know it doesn’t look like much but the buyer who requested it—”
“It’s fake,” I said without letting him finish, motioning to the signature in the bottom left corner. “Frank Elton only signs in the bottom right, and that’s cheap paint. He uses those fancy oil ones. Besides, his signature on here is a dark blue. He only used black.”
“You’re sure?” he asked, eyeing me from behind his mask. I nodded and he put the painting back, taking my word for it. “Keep looking. That might be a decoy.”
“Doubtful. That particular piece wasn’t duplicated. The real one’s in my father’s den. I told you to take it but you guys wasted time.”
“Sorry, I was a little freaked out about kidnapping you,” he muttered, glancing around the room. “Do you see anything valuable then?”
“How can you be a professional thief but can’t spot value or original pieces?” I huffed, eyeing the shelves and other paintings. I pointed to a vase in the glass cabinet, walking towards it. “That looks like Caroline Mimianna’s work which can sell for millions of dollars and is quite sought after. The small painting beside it is also worth half a million.”
“How do you know all of this if you were locked in your room all the time?” he asked suspiciously but he grabbed the vase as gently as possible, leaving me to grab the painting.
“I wasn’t always locked in my room. Besides, my father’s business friends talk loudly,” I shrugged, following him into the room across the hall. There wasn’t much in there other than some old coins, so we grabbed them and headed back downstairs.
We didn’t linger, slipping back out the window and along the fenceline, finding the hole we’d used to get in.
We’d parked in Hawthorne Heights, so we made the short walk back to the car without a problem, and Cruz placed the vase in a padded box, securing it in the trunk alongside the painting.
No one batted an eye at us for walking around with masks on, but we did get a wave from some old woman from her porch as we climbed into the car.
“What if she tells the cops about seeing us?” I enquired, and he let out a chuckle as he pulled the mask from his face.
“Beatrice? She’s more likely to tell us to run faster while causing a distraction. The cops gunned her husband down in the eighties and besides, she’s born and bred Heights blood. You won’t find a single person in this town who’d willingly call the cops. Go tell her what we took and she’d bake you some cookies.” He waved back at her before starting the engine. “Heads up. The other painting we’re selling is going to a buyer in Kingslake.”
“If they’re a dirty old rich dude then you’d better have a good reason for being with me. My father knows everyone,” I warned, nerves tingling inside me.
Once on the road he threaded his fingers through mine.
“You’re an adult. Just say you moved out.”
“Rich circles don’t work like that. If anyone knows me, they’ll know I’m supposed to be married off to someone.”
“You really think anyone who’s buying stolen art is going to get involved in your personal business? They won’t want people knowing that they’re illegally acquiring art, so they don’t know you won’t tell your daddy or someone else.”
I pulled my mask off now we were away from the house. “The rich are all criminals and they’re all aware of how things work. You’d be surprised how shameless those people are.”
“If they even look at you funny I’ll take you back to the compound after threatening them,” he promised with a smile, kissing the back of my hand. “Relax.”
I tried but it was really hard. For all I knew, my father would be at this house.
I didn’t recognize the house we finally arrived at but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t know the person behind the door. It had been a long time since I’d been allowed to venture outside the property.
Cruz held the painting under his arm while taking my hand in his free one, walking towards the massive door as if he owned the place. My stomach dropped when Cruz knocked and we were ushered inside by the housekeeper, coming face-to-face with the man whose son I was supposed to marry.
He looked me over before recognition flared in his eyes.
“Penelope?”
“Hey,” I said nervously, stepping closer to Cruz. “How are you?”
His eyes dropped to our joined hands and he gave me a weird look.
