The Prize

by Vanessa Fewings

  My fingertip brushed along my mouth to savor his kiss as that dreamy fantasy lingered. “Kiss me again.”

  His hand lowered to my knee and he slid my hem up and over my thighs, and he leaned over to kiss my mouth. “These lips are mine.” His hand trailed higher along my thigh, electrifying my skin beneath his touch. He dipped his head between my thighs and eased my panties aside. “And these lips are mine.” Stroking my clit with his tongue.

  My head rested back and I went with his delicious teasing, my fingers playing with his hair. Relaxed and letting go I became lulled by his kisses of affection.

  “I could worship you all day like this.” He let my hem fall and pulled down my dress.

  “You’ve rendered me speechless.”

  He smiled and pulled me into a hug. “God, I love you.”

  My body trembled in the wake of his words. If it wasn’t for the profoundness of what this evening meant, I could stay in this car all night with him.

  When we reached our destination, we walked down the impressive walkway leading to The Wilder Museum. I turned to look back at the limousine and gave a wave of thanks to Marshall. He waved back.

  In this very spot Tobias had tried to have Marshall drive me to the airport. Yet I’d refused and that one decision had led me all the way to this moment and all the way to finally being reunited with my paintings. All the way into Wilder’s arms.

  “Forget something?” He followed my gaze.

  “No.” I beamed at him and soaked in his intoxicating beauty.

  The doorman welcomed us in and I was wowed by the impressive crowd already gathered in the foyer. This black-tie event to celebrate my collection felt like the final part of our journey and a wonderful way to reveal what had remained hidden for too long. My emotions were all over the place. I was sad my dad wasn’t here to see it.

  Tobias turned to face me. “Just say if you need me to whisk you off to a quiet place so you can catch your breath.”

  Weaving my arm around his I gave a thankful nod.

  I gasped when I saw Clara, my best friend who’d flown all the way from London. My face flushed with happiness. She was chatting with my old professor, Gabe Anderson, and his boyfriend, Ned.

  “Tobias?” This had to have been his doing.

  He followed my gaze. “She flew with me from London.”

  This was the most amazing surprise and I couldn’t quite believe I was seeing her. She came toward me wearing the biggest smile and her ebullient welcome reminded me of home. She’d dressed in her favorite halter-neck dress and oozed glamour. She swept me up in the biggest hug and her scent of lavender embraced me.

  “This is too wonderful.” Tears of joy stung my eyes.

  “You had me scared there, missy,” she said.

  I blew out a long breath as an apology formed on my lips. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

  “Tobias told me everything.” She threw him a grateful nod. “I got to fly on his private jet,” she giggled. “And no way was I missing being here for this.” She held my gaze as her eyes widened with wonder. “You got them back?”

  “Yes, all of them. They’re here, Clara. I can’t wait for you to see them.”

  She glanced at Tobias. “It’s a bloody miracle.”

  “I know.” I grinned and had to pinch myself.

  We flew into a flood of words and she caught me up on her news of her family and her latest work in London.

  Tobias gave a knowing smile. “I told her she could stay with us.”

  “You must, Clara,” I insisted.

  “I have to fly back first thing tomorrow,” she apologized. “But I’m coming back for a holiday first chance I can get.”

  I was overwhelmed to see Gabe and his partner, Ned, and they looked dashing in their black tuxedos. Gabe was eager to revisit the Terra-Cotta Army exhibit, and although it was closed tonight Tobias told him he’d arrange a private visit and called over Maria to make it happen.

  I was giddy with seeing everyone and I almost forgot why I was here. Tobias was pulled away from me and before long he was deep in conversation with the other guests. I watched him suavely navigate the guests who swarmed around him.

  Savoring the sophisticated architecture of the museum, I let my gaze wander over to the corner where a terra-cotta horse and carriage was displayed as an inviting piece for those here to see the exhibit. Not that long ago I’d stashed my phone in there and run off to Arizona. Tobias had followed and his actions had saved my life. Days ago, I’d risked my life to save him too. We owed each other the greatest debt and I wanted to spend the rest of my life repaying it.

  After chatting with Clara for a while I realized I’d not seen Tobias for at least an hour and told her I was going to go rescue him. I found Maria chatting with the receptionist at the foyer desk and asked her, “Do you know where Tobias went?”

  “The east wing.” She gave a smile. “He’ll come back soon.”

  “Wasn’t he visiting that new painting?” the young receptionist piped up.

  Maria widened her eyes in a warning. “I’m not sure about that.”

  A tremor of uncertainty. “Thank you, Maria.” I went after him, wondering what new exhibit she was referring to.

  Inside the eighteenth-century Spanish gallery I didn’t see anyone and turned to leave—

  La Maja Desnuda was looking back at me.

  This striking nude painting by Francisco José de Goya—the same one Tobias had taken me to see to authenticate for him in Blandford Palace in Oxfordshire. It was my first adventure with him. All air left the room as I realized he’d used me to case the palace for him. Right in front of me was evidence of Icon.

  I inhaled a sharp breath of terror as my gaze wandered over the canvas portraying a beautiful naked woman lying down with her arms resting beneath her head in a manner conveying comfort with the man painting her. She emanated eroticism, the way her head rested on plump pillows and her legs together in a dignified pose. This was the work of Goya, one of Wilder’s favorite artists. He’d yearned to possess her.

  But at what cost...

  Strong arms wrapped around me and I stiffened in Tobias’s embrace as his cologne wafted over me lowering my defenses.

  “There you are,” he purred into my ear. “Have you quite finished dazzling everyone with your beauty?”

  I spun round in his arms. “How?”

  “La Maja Desnuda went up for auction at Sotheby’s yesterday in London. I purchased her. She’s authentic according to you so I felt confident to buy her. All aboveboard, Leighton.”

  I exhaled in a rush, knowing there’d be a bill of sale and this would be easy to cross-reference with a few strikes of a key while visiting Sotheby’s website. “This was why you left me? To buy her?”

  “No, actually. She was a happy coincidence.” He pulled back. “Do you doubt me?”

  I glanced back at her, hoping what I’d find would reassure me.

  He leaned close to my ear. “You thought this was Icon’s doing?”

  I cringed inwardly realizing I’d messed up the mood of the evening.

  “After everything?” His voice cracked with emotion.

  “It’s a big day for me. Just give me a moment.”

  He kissed my cheek to comfort me. “I get it.” Though his eyes reflected hurt.

  “I’m still getting used to being here,” I explained. “This place.”

  He caressed his chin thoughtfully. “I was going to tell you La Maja Desnuda was here. Your nosy nature proved unwavering. I thought you were still with Clara.”

  “I came to check on you.”

  “Spy on me?”

  “I should have waited for you.”

  He mulled over that. “Want to see your surprise?”

  “The reason you went to London?”

  “There’s a price to pa
y for your mischief.” He swept me up, flung me over his right shoulder, carried me out of the room and waved to the guards who looked on seemingly not sure what to make of us.

  I laughed at his playfulness.

  He smacked my bum. “You might want to shut your eyes for this part.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Rock your world. The thing I was put on this earth to do.” He put me down and crushed me between himself and the wall. “The reason I went to London was not predominantly for the Goya. Or to have Clara here.” He gestured to the door beside us and I realized we were outside my exhibit.

  “Then why?” Unable to wait a second longer I burst through the door—

  The paintings looked incredible adorned along pristine walls, and as I wandered along tears welled at their beauty, each one was awe inspiring with its polished brass plaque set beside its frame detailing its painter.

  And then I saw her—

  My beloved Madame Rose Récamier, the 1803 Jacques Momar I’d donated to The Otillie, and the reason for Wilder being at the gallery that same evening. She looked just as vibrant as when she’d adorned my bedroom and only survived the fire because she’d needed restoring, and had found herself in my father’s office on that dreaded night. They were all here and safe...almost.

  I turned to face Tobias. “How?”

  “You signed off to me being a custodian of all your art, remember?”

  He knew what Madame Rose meant and had gone out of his way to bring her here.

  Tobias stood beside me. “I tried to bring over the others from The National Gallery. They’ve already had the brochures printed. All ten thousand of them for the Michelangelo exhibit. Magnus Needham begged me not to remove them from the gallery just yet. I tried.”

  “Oh, Tobias.” I turned to face him. “Thank you.” I soaked up the profoundness of what was within this room. “The others will join us eventually.”

  “We’ll keep your St. Joan out of the limelight for now.”

  “That’s a good idea. Let everything settle first.”

  He pressed his palm to his chest. “I will be the most honored museum owner in the world to have your entire collection here.”

  “These are here because of you, Tobias. All of them. My father would be so proud of you.”

  “You too.” He looked thoughtful. “Before I let in everyone I wanted to do this in here. It feels appropriate because these are the paintings that led me to you.” He gestured his sincerity. “This is how I found you.”

  There came a crackle of electricity between us.

  “Zara.” His face brightened. “Marry me.”

  There came a rush of happiness on seeing his enduring smile.

  Tobias lowered himself onto one knee and looked up at me. “Zara Elizabeth Leighton. Will you be my wife?” He reached into his tux pocket, removed a black velvet box and held it up to me.

  Of all the things I expected to happen today, this wasn’t one of them.

  He flipped open the lid and within lay a sparkling princess-cut diamond set in a platinum band. “Promise me we’ll have forever.” He removed the ring from the velvet cushion and slid it onto my left ring finger and it fit so well.

  Tobias rose and pulled me into a hug. “Say you’ll be mine forever.” His lips crushed my mouth as he sighed and I swooned against him.

  “Yes.” I nuzzled in and held him to me.

  “I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you happy, Zara.”

  Our love had won out.

  “Come on.” He led me out. “I want us to get a blessing.”

  Out the door and down the hallway we hurried, soon arriving in the vast room displaying a series of masterpieces from the late 1800s. There, directly in our line of sight was Jean-Jacques Henner’s 1879 Madame Paul Duchesne-Fournet.

  Tobias stared off down the walkway toward her.

  “She’s smiling at us,” I whispered.

  “That looks like a blessing to me.”

  “It sure does.” I looked up at his beautiful face flooded with happiness and savored these passing seconds.

  All these years of being immersed in art had taught me how to live, how to fight and how to love, and I knew with certainty that home would be anywhere this man was.

  EPILOGUE

  Six months later

  FROM THE BALCONY of Tobias’s Malibu home, I enjoyed the endless ocean view and inhaled the fresh air. When I lowered my gaze another spectacular sight came into view. Tobias was taking his afternoon swim and cutting swiftly through the water in his heated pool. Though it was more fun to watch him climbing out with water dripping off his sculptured torso, and he looked like an Olympian put on this earth to tease. He turned his gaze toward the balcony and threw me a wave while delivering a dashing smile I’d never get over.

  Yes, it really was my favorite view.

  I’d missed him terribly during his trip to New York just a few days ago and was glad to have him home. I’d lived here for the last six months in utter bliss and each week had flown by with the ease of a sun-drenched life. We’d shared our first Christmas in this house, our first New Year’s Eve, and even now I tried to grasp how much life had changed for the better.

  Working at The Wilder meant my hours were filled with assisting in acquiring new art, exploring potential exhibitions that would be a good fit for us and wandering around the museum. Spending time with my beloved paintings and seeing Tobias during my day was my greatest pleasure.

  In a month, we’d head off to Italy to tour the city and purchase pieces for the museum. We also planned to visit the Uffizi Gallery in Florence to see the other Mona Lisa, the painting we’d rescued and then entrusted to Huntly Pierre. They’d situated her at the Uffizi after her true owner couldn’t be located but her provenance had ended in Florence. The hunt would go on for those who she truly belonged to. This Tuscan gallery had seen an increase of visitors since her arrival after we’d sent her home.

  Each painting was more than a sum of its parts, it felt like a living breathing entity with a history reaching back to its original creator who first breathed life into the canvas. I loved being part of this profession and knew the privilege of seeing art every day.

  My world felt even safer since the arrest of Elliot Burell, who’d been deported from Germany and sent back to face justice. His thirty-year prison sentence meant he was never getting out alive. His war mongering days were over. Tobias’s mission was successful and had brought him the kind of peace he desperately deserved.

  A boat sailed by on the horizon, drawing me back to the present. My wedding was hours away and I couldn’t remember having been happier about anything. Of course, graduating at The Courtauld was a highlight but nothing came close to becoming Mrs. Wilder.

  A view like this was worthy of capturing. I’d encouraged Tobias to bring his paints out here and have a bash at that seascape. I wondered if he missed his English foxes. He’d reassured me his jet was on standby if ever I became homesick and needed my London fix.

  My fingers swung the chain of my necklace back and forth across my throat as I watched Tobias stroll over to a lounger. This single emerald was a reminder of how much his father had loved his mother. He’d given her this necklace when she became pregnant with Tobias as though sensing the miracle of the kind of man he would one day be.

  I never wanted to take it off.

  And goodness, this engagement ring was exquisite with the way it caught the light, its diamond refracting colors with its endless promise of serenity.

  Tobias gestured for me to join him. I turned and headed into the bedroom, taking a detour along the hallway to the spare room, the one Tobias was forbidden to enter. Inside, my body thrummed with excitement as I neared the elegant white Monique Lhuillier wedding dress, with a delicate lace-trimmed overlay, ready to be worn this evening. Everything I had dream
ed was coming true, starting off with a private beach wedding with just him and me beneath the stars at the foot of our home. Reaching out to touch the material, running my fingers over the charmeuse slip dress, I was eager to put it on and become his bride.

  Heading down the staircase, I paused when I saw a flash of movement to my left. The only visitor due was the hair and makeup stylist who wouldn’t arrive for several hours. Tobias and I both wanted a low-key wedding and after much contemplation had decided it would be just us and the officiate as well as the artist who would capture our day in the pastel tones of a watercolor. I turned the corner and saw Coops carrying a large wrapped piece of art in white paper and he hurried around the corner with it.

  Tobias had decorated this place with his extraordinary taste and I loved walking barefoot on the Spanish terra-cotta tiles and sitting near the fountain in the foyer. It wasn’t unusual for him to switch out his art from time to time or move them around to provide variety, though I wondered what new piece Tobias had purchased without me.

  A painful thud hit my chest as Coops ran right into me, heading too fast back around the corner, his hands now empty.

  “Careful, Coops.” I caught my breath. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m so sorry.” He looked distraught. “Didn’t think you were back from the market.”

  That took me back because I wondered how he knew I’d visited the farmers market in Santa Monica earlier, purchasing fresh seafood, fruit and heaps of salad for tonight as we’d planned on preparing food by ourselves too. Still, it made me wonder why it would be an issue for Coops.

  I smiled at him fondly. “What was that?”

  “What?” He looked nervous.

  I pointed toward where he’d just come from. “That thing you were carrying?”

  He gave a nod and hurried off. “Not sure what you mean.”

  “Coops?” I called after him but he was already at the front door. Turning sharply on his heels he called back, “I never did ask you if the footage was clear?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “When I converted Mr. Wilder’s videotape? You mentioned not wanting anyone to see it so I had a private firm take care of it.”