Cold dread settles in my stomach. "The paintings. Where are they now?"
"They're still in the gallery. We're preparing them for transport to the Faulks estate. Mr. Faulks was insistent that—" He hesitates.
"No." My voice is sharp. "You can't let that happen. You need to make sure those paintings stay here. Don't let anyone take them, especially not Vivianne's father."
Confusion clouds Dr. Phillips's face, but he nods. "Of course, but what's going on? Why are these paintings so important?"
I open my mouth to explain, but the words catch in my throat. How much can I tell him? How much should I tell him? The less he knows, the safer he'll be. But I need his help.
"It's complicated. Those paintings... they're more than art. They're evidence."
"Evidence? Of what?"
"Of a crime that's been decades in the making." I lean in closer, lowering my voice. "I need you to trust me. Those paintings cannot leave this university. Not yet."
He studies me for a long moment, brow furrowed. Finally, he nods. "Alright. I trust you. I'll make sure the paintings stay here. But what about Vivianne? Have you spoken to her?"
The mention of her name sends a jolt through me. "No. I haven't been able to reach her. Do you know where she is?"
"Her father took her home last night. She hasn't been answering her phone. I'm worried about her. The way her father was acting... it wasn't right." Dr. Phillips shakes his head.
My hands curl into fists, ignoring the twinge of pain the action causes. "I need to see her. To make sure she's safe."
"That might be difficult. The Faulks estate is like a fortress. And after last night, I imagine Mr. Faulks will have tightened security even further."
There has to be a way. Some event, some occasion that would force the Faulks family out into the open. And then it hits me.
"The wedding. Vivianne's engagement. When is it?"
"I'm not sure of the exact date, but they were planning to announce it soon." Dr. Phillips blinks, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. "Why?"
"Because that's my way in." I stand, ignoring the protest from my body. "I need to go. Thank you. For everything."
"Be careful. Whatever you're involved in... it seems dangerous." He rises as well, concern etched on his face.
"It is." A grim smile. "But so am I."
With that, I leave his office, my mind already racing with plans. I have calls to make, favors to call in. I need to find out when and where that engagement announcement is happening.
And I need to be there.
ELEVEN
Paul: The Blue Room
Two weeks later,I stand across the street from the St. Regis, one of New York's most prestigious hotels. The sun is just beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the city. Under normal circumstances, I would appreciate the beauty of the moment, but right now, all my attention is focused on the sleek black limousine pulling up to the hotel's entrance.
My pulse quickens, hammering against my ribs. The chauffeur emerges, crisp and professional in his uniform. The front passenger door swings open.
Marcus Aberdine, Faulks's bodyguard, unfolds his imposing frame from the seat. His chiseled face turns, eyes scanning the surroundings. I shrink back, melting into the crowd of onlookers. Just another face.
Marcus's gaze sweeps over and through me, seeing everything and nothing. His hand hovers near his hip—the telltale sign of a concealed weapon. Ex-military, highly trained, fiercely loyal to the Faulks family. A formidable obstacle.
The chauffeur opens the rear door. Prescott emerges first. His tailored suit screams new money. His hand extends back into the car, an outwardly gentlemanly gesture.
Vivianne's delicate fingers appear, clasping his. She emerges from the limo, a vision in ivory silk. Her golden hair cascades down her back, catching the light like spun sunshine, but it's her eyes that capture me—those deep blue pools that have haunted my dreams for weeks.
My trained eye picks up on the details others might miss. Tension in her shoulders. Tightness around her eyes. The almost imperceptible flinch when Prescott places a hand on her back.
