Two days after the unsettling and delightful encounter with Penelope at the Meridian’s lab, Lucia felt trapped.
She had plenty to do, from painting to prepping the mission, research, and all that came with it. And yet she lounged on the couch, staring into space.
Skye had a point—she was the forger at the Collective, not a skilled thief or field operative. She’d gone on a few missions after officially joining, but it hadn’t taken long to realize her real talent lay in the arts. Francesca made liberal use of it, and most days, Lucia didn’t mind.
This mission wasn’t her specialty, but Lucia hadn’t hesitated, not when Francesca asked. Not when Francesca trusted no one else.
It wasn’t just because she was grateful Francesca had offered her a home all those years ago—it also became a sort of calling.
Until it wasn’t.
The restlessness crawling over her like ants on a sugar rush wasn’t new. She wanted something, something more than just beinggood, following orders, taking commissions, painting whatever she was told.
And yet, shehadno other options.
Blackwell’s words had taken up permanent residence in her thoughts, the talk about the soul in her art, the lovely work of the Alessi piece.
She hadn’t meant to flirt, but being around Blackwell left Lucia wired—restless, exposed. That disarming focus—like itwas tuned to shake loose every hidden part of her—only deepened the taut limbo she’d landed in.
Her phone rang.
Lucia grimaced when Francesca’s name flashed on the screen. Not the call she wanted. She wouldn’t admit she was waiting for one specific phone call, or text. Although Blackwell struck her more as the phone call type.
“Get a grip,” she muttered as she answered the video call. “Hi, Francesca. What’s up?”
“How did the Meridian work out?”
Lucia stifled an eye roll. Francesca generally had no chill and tended to micromanage, but when it came to theMadonna, multiply that by infinity.
“It went well. They’re still in the process of authenticating the paintings. She clearly detected the Alessi as a fake, though I didn’t exactly make that hard.”
“Maybe we should have tested her with two difficult paintings.”
“Time was of the essence, no? It takes longer to create a high-level forgery than our schedule allowed, once your ‘trifecta from the heavens’ came to pass.”
A beat of stillness.
“Don’t mock me.”
“I’m not! I’m doing all I can to get yourMadonnaback, and while I’d have liked to test Blackwell on something more challenging, that wasn’t in the cards. Besides, the Bellini is as good as it gets and on the same level as myMadonna. If she calls that one fake, we’re screwed.”
Francesca drummed her fingers against the chair. “If she hesitates on the Bellini, befriending her might not be enough. Keep her attention on you. People get sloppy when they’re distracted. You need to play it up a little.”
“What do you mean?”
“Use your charm, flirt with her. I read her file again. She lives a pretty lonely life.”
Lucia frowned. “We don’t know enough to make judgment calls. She might be living exactly the life she wants to live.”
“Given her father? I highly doubt that. Something like that tears families apart and leaves scars. So, if she’s vulnerable, there might be quite the opening.”
“Blackwell didn’t seem particularly vulnerable. Besides, it’s not right to—” Lucia bit her lower lip.
“What? Gain the upper hand?”
“Manipulate people.”
Francesca laughed. “Seriously, Lucy? What has gotten into you lately?”
