I opened the fridge and put the milk away, hoping to hide my uneasiness.
He took another sip. “My private life is open to speculation from the press. I’m pursued like a deer during hunting season.”
I reached for my mug and tried to read from him what I needed to hear.
“My life is complex.” He put his drink down.
I held his gaze braving to say, “And you don’t do love?”
Tobias’s kind eyes crinkled into a smile as he said, “That was before...”
“Before?”
He went for his coffee again and wrapped his hands around it.
“Tobias?”
“You should take a shower.”
Those few moments of his vulnerability slipped away.
And so did mine...
“Sometimes love, like art, cannot be defined,” I said. “It can’t be contained. Controlled. Owned. It needs its freedom to become fully realized.”
“Would that ever be enough for you?” he asked softly.
I raised my chin proudly and headed for the door. “Tobias, I was referring to me. I’ll take that shower now.”
Inside the bathroom I stripped off my babydoll nightdress. After turning on the faucet and adjusting the temperature I stepped in. That burst of heat felt incredible, the pressure pounding my head and flowing over my nakedness, cleansing my body as the water cascaded.
I’d allowed myself to go there and imagine what a relationship might be like with Tobias. It didn’t take the wisdom of the ages to sense his reluctance to delve into a passionate affair with me. He’d realized our chemistry too. Something was holding him back, something more than just those seeds of doubt sewn by Logan. The self-respect I’d not known I had rose to the surface right when I needed it.
Our relationship also deserved to be on my terms as much as he wanted it to be on his. The challenge of learning more about Tobias had been a delicious pursuit.
Movement caught my eye and through the veil of steam I watched Tobias walk over to the corner chair and sit, crossing a leg over another. He stared at me with an expression void of any emotion.
Merely watching.
Lathering my body, I massaged soap over my heated skin, along my arms and legs, my abdomen and my sex, flitting a glance his way now and again and catching a glint of affection in his expression.
The way his tongue flickered and moistened his lower lip. His glare roamed over me, proving his desire, a stark passion reflected in his fierce green eyes.
I lathered shampoo into my hair.
This felt as sensuous as when we’d made love, a connection so profound I couldn’t define it. His need to be close to me was more endearing than anything I’d experienced and I sensed he drew strength from me, just as I did from him.
Tobias rose from the chair and came over.
He pressed his palm to the glass and held it there. This, this was the reassurance I needed, that he felt the same way about me and no force or fear could keep us apart, and whatever the world might throw at us we’d handle together.
Mirroring, I raised my hand and placed my palm opposite his, my stare captured by his warm gaze, this moment of intimacy so honest.
Water continued to shower over me...
Silently I conveyed I had what it took to guide us where we needed to go and just as he’d asked me to do, I gave over my trust to him.
Tobias’s hand slipped from the glass. And he left the room.
20
With my towel wrapped around me, I strolled into the bedroom feeling refreshed and with a sense of peace. These frantic hours worrying over St. Joan looked like they were over.
“Let’s go out for breakfast,” I called out to him. “You only had a slice of pizza. You must be starving.”
My phone rang and Clara’s bright face lit up the screen. I lifted it off the bedside table and yanked it out of its charger.
“Hey,” I said, “how are you?”
“I left a message for you,” she said. “What’s going on over at Christie’s? Didn’t your dad once own that one?”
“St. Joan?”
“Are you okay? It was on the news. Was it stolen?”
“Right before they authenticated it.”
“So you don’t know if it was yours?”
“Not really.” I hated lying to her.
“Has Nigel called you? Bet that got his nose twitching.”
“Not yet.” My stomach twisted at the thought of that sneaky journalist who’d no doubt want an exclusive.
A chill spiraled down my spine.
A trail of water trickled from my hair down my back. “Can I call you back? I just got out of the shower.”
“Sure. I need you to fill me in.”
I threw my phone on the bed and went in search of the most entertaining person I’d ever met.
“Tobias?” I called out. The kitchen was empty.
I made my way into the sitting room and when I didn’t see him, a jolt of intuition told me to check if his coat was still in the hallway.
It wasn’t.
A little fazed, I wondered if he was in the spare room preparing the paintings for their collection.
Dread seeped into my veins as I realized Tobias had left. I hurried over to the wall safe and peered in. The pallet was there. I pulled it out. “No!”
The paintings were gone.
Tears sprang to my eyes as I searched further for the envelope containing each proof of provenance. It wasn’t there, either.
“No, please, no.”
I sprang to my feet and in a daze ran into the sitting room and pressed my nose up against the window and stared out at the street. Cars driving by, a few pedestrians, a woman walking her boxer.
Back in my bedroom I dressed quickly, my hands too shaky on the zipper of my jeans, my chenille sweater feeling too tight around my neck. After a flurry of grabbing mismatched socks, finding shoes and scrambling for my handbag and phone, I flew out the door.
Drizzle fell on me.
It was too late to go back for my parka. A cab at the curb idled in front of me.
I grabbed the handle and leaped into the back. “The Otillie. Do you know where that is?”
The driver gave a nod and reached out to set the meter. He pulled away and I was shoved into the seat.
He’s taken them to The Otillie, I reassured myself.
I was overreacting and sure to embarrass myself.
Fingers trembling, I pressed Logan’s number and waited. It went to voice mail.
“Logan,” I tried to steady my tone. “Please call me. It’s urgent. It’s concerning Tobias.”
I killed the call and stared out at the passing scenery, old buildings mismatched with new, and pedestrians hurrying to work. This chill from the air-conditioning reached my damp hair and sent a stark coldness into my skull.
I forced my scattered thoughts into a stream of intelligent consciousness, running through what I knew about Tobias, the way he’d acted around me, the way he made me feel, and I cringed at how easily I’d fallen headfirst into this relationship.
Those final moments shared with him in the shower had been his way of saying goodbye.
Had I willingly given myself over to the crime of the century? The moment Tobias heard my name in The Otillie, when I’d introduced myself, his expression had proven he knew of me. And the very next day he’d turned up at my place of work...had that been the moment the seduction had begun?
Michelangelo had been his true love all along.
Rumors that not all my father’s paintings had been destroyed in that fire had made it to America, apparently all the way to the Wilder estate.
Why had I ignored my gut feeling; why had I doubted myself?
Because you’re about to prove yourself wrong, I chastised, your paintings are fine and this is you overreacting and embarrassing yourself.
In what felt like painful slow motion, I swiped my credit card through the meter and as soon as it cleared I flew out, my feet landing hard on the pavement.
Tripping forward and barely saving myself, I took two stairs at a time leading up to The Otillie’s grand entrance. I went through the usual motions of the security screen and offered my handbag to be searched.
Miles’s voice rose from the east wing and I headed in that direction, trying to maintain an aura of decorum and not sprint into his arms in a panic.
“Zara!” his clipped Cambridge accent echoed.
Even now Miles Tenant could intimidate with that booming tenor voice, his impressive dynamism evident by the way he ran this place and his generosity to always be willing to share his knowledge. Miles’s African heritage gave him that elegant stature and that remarkable confidence that enhanced his charisma.
“Miles.” I sucked in air.
“Come to see your girl?” He beamed at me. “Madame Rose...” His smile faded. “Zara? Are you okay?”
“Is Tobias Wilder here?” Terror caught me when I read his reaction.
“Are you meeting him here?”
“I thought so.”
His eyes widened as his gaze swept over my disheveled appearance. “You got caught in the rain?”
“Do you have his number?”
“All calls go through Tobias’s office.”
“But you’re friends?”
“He gets hundreds of calls a day. Busy man. They all get siphoned through his office.”
I cringed at the obvious distance Tobias had placed between him and Miles. The same wall I’d faced when trying to reach him.
“Tobias didn’t drop off any paintings?” Desperation dripped from my voice.
“No, was he meant to?” He smiled. “Now you have me intrigued. Let’s go to my office.”
“I can’t stay.”
I must keep moving.
“I’ll tell Tobias you visited,” he said.
“Call me as soon as he turns up, okay.” I walked backward, heading for the exit.
“Of course.” His squint of concern followed me out.
Turning on my heels and skirting through those damn rotating doors that freaked me out each time I used them, I burst into the freezing night air.
Pouring rain chased after me as I hurried back down the steps. I moaned with the thought of Tobias transporting my paintings in this weather.
From the curb, I looked left and right and gestured to an approaching taxi.
Hands shaking as they grasped my phone, I tapped away until I’d brought up the number for New Scotland Yard.
Think!
Go straight to the police and they’d demand a statement and no doubt have more questions regarding that incident at Christie’s. That couldn’t happen. I needed the time and freedom to hunt down Tobias.
How would I prove they were once mine?
And why had Tobias betrayed me like this? Stolen them from right under my nose? I’d been stupid enough to trust him. Believe in the chemistry that had been laid at my feet as a trap. I cursed my stupidity for falling so hard and fast for him.
“Ma’am, everything okay?”
I stirred from this trance and came to inside the back of the large black cab I’d climbed into.
“I’m fine,” I told the driver. “Canary Wharf, please.”
“Have an address?” his Cockney accent reassured me he’d know the backstreets.
My fingers flew across the screen as I did a Google search. “I’m working on it.”
* * *
I found myself in front of a pristine black glass skyscraper that was crisscrossed with chrome. Wilder Tower was an imposing high-rise.
Crooking my neck, I guessed there was somewhere in the region of at least fifty floors to this building. I wiped rain from my eyes, vaguely aware I was drenched from head to toe.
The coldness soaked into my bones as I realized by the time I climbed those stairs, Tobias would have made his getaway.
If he was even here.
He could be boarding a plane right now and on his way to the States. With my paintings.
Stay focused.
Stepping inside, I clenched my teeth to endure the air-conditioning hitting my skin like broken shards of glass. These wet clothes clung with a cruel iciness.
Within this expansive foyer I could see the similarity with Tobias’s Oxford home. Pristine chrome fixtures were offset by a stark fluorescence. A minimalist approach to a vast lonely space. That high ceiling the final stamp of grandeur.
How could a man so wealthy need to steal anything?
Because owning a Michelangelo was the last vestige of greed, I painfully mused, a priceless piece unlike any other that could be bought and privately owned.
These steps toward the receptionist’s desk felt like the longest trek and as I looked around I knew the architect must have known Tobias well. This wide-open area reflected Tobias’s need to throw off his opponents and control his enemies.
Across the way, two burley guards held me in their gazes with a look of suspicion, probably wondering why a bedraggled woman had any right to hurry through the Wilder foyer.
“Do you have an appointment?” asked the young pretty receptionist.
My fingers traced over the GQ magazine on the counter, flaunting Tobias’s photo which was smack-dab on the cover and he looked so damn gorgeous, mocking me with his beauty in that usual arrogant, bespoke style.
The receptionist narrowed her gaze on me. “Miss?”
An unfamiliar burst of jealousy rose in my chest as I realized she’d see Tobias every day when he was in London, and perhaps, just perhaps she’d flirt a little.
“Yes.” I bit back my embarrassment of looking so bad.
“Got caught in it, then?” She raised her chin to the door.
“Forgot my brolly.” I gave a thin smile. “I’m Zara Leighton.”
“Okay, great. Go ahead and sign in.” She tapped away on her keyboard, her screen hidden from view behind that overly large marble reception desk.
“Do you have a pen, please?” I scanned the counter for one.
“First time here?”
“Yes. Is Mr. Wilder here?”
She hesitated for a beat and then narrowed her gaze. “He’s expecting me.”
Expecting to have his eyes gouged out, more likely.
Smiling I said, “Running a bit late for that meeting.”
“Oh, are you from NG?”
NG?
“Yes.” I blinked her way.
“I’ll give you a key card for the lift.”
My gaze followed hers and my throat tightened as I took in that large metal death trap, its gaping mouth threatening to devour and inevitably crush those stupid enough to enter.
“Which way are the stairs?”
“You can’t use them unless there’s an emergency. It’s a security measure. You can’t have access to all floors.”
“What if people don’t like lifts?”
“It’s not an issue.”
Not an issue for her, obviously, she merely sat here on the ground level protected by all this marble and chrome and didn’t have to put her life on the line.
She pointed to the space between us and, on my look of confusion, added, “It’s an air keyboard. If you could just sign in.”
“I don’t need a pen?”
“Use your finger.”
“For what exactly?” Punch the air?
She punched the air and a transparent screen came down between us, her bored face reflecting clear on the other side.<
br />
“Did Tobias invent this?” I managed.
“Mr. Wilder? Yes. The whole building. There’s a pool on the twelfth floor and a gym we can use during our lunch break.”
I tried to hide the fact I was hyperventilating at the thought of having to use the stairs while being chased by those guards.
Punching my name into the keyboard with a pointed finger, I messed up and had to delete “Xars” and change it to “Zara.”
She busied herself on her screen and I reached for that GQ, flipping through the pages, trying to calm my nerves.
There, a few pages in, were more photos of Wilder looking just as dashing along with an accompanying interview. Reading the highlighted points, I learned that Tobias had donated his holographic technology to medical schools in developing countries, so students could learn anatomy and physiology in the classroom before being let loose in laboratories. It was admirable but also turned my stomach a little when it previewed the detail of what was possible. The students could literally reach in and peel away three-dimensional body parts.
I scrunched up my nose. Lovely.
According to the article, Tobias was also a hero to gamers, after developing snazzy goggles for larger-than-life worlds that prevented the usual nausea associated with 3-D technology.
“I’m having trouble finding you in the system?” She piped up. “Let me try his private office. Maybe his secretary didn’t sync.”
“Thank you.” Though with no appointment, I hoped she’d let me go ahead anyway; I was going to have to play it cool.
Skipping to the end, the article summarized Tobias was considered a high-tech equivalent of Albert Einstein when it came to gadgets.
Not everything he’d invented had come out a winner—two years ago he’d applied a neuron and synapse system to a computer that resulted in a neural awakening. Unfortunately, that experiment crashed the hard drive. The artificial intelligence had taken on a mind of its own and not in a good way.
I’d been flirting with a mad scientist.
Who was quite possibly Icon.
The receptionist set a key card on the counter but kept her fingertips on it. “Sure it’s today?” She frowned at her screen.
I swallowed hard and kicked myself when she caught it. “You’re not showing on his calendar, either,” she said.
The Chase Page 21