Lucia gritted her teeth. She hated the pragmatism of Francesca’s approach to people and relationships, as if you could eradicate emotions with logic. In her darker moments, it made her question Francesca more than she liked. “I’m just saying I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to act like—”
“Like you have a crush? Why not? I’m not asking you to sleep with her.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose, struggling to keep her temper in check. “Have you found out more about Varnelli and what she’s currently up to?”
Silence.
Francesca pursed her lips. “No.”
“Maybe digging there is more useful than trying to charm the curator of the Meridian.”
“Are you telling me how to do my job, Lucia?” Her tone sharpened. “I’ve been running the Collective for over twenty-five years, and—”
“No, of course not.” She closed her eyes. “I just…worry. This is a lot, and I know how important it is to you. I want to do this right, but I also can’t…”
“Then stay focused. Everything else is set, but if Blackwell pushes to stabilize the painting on-site, we’re dead. That’s why you’re there, Lucia. Keep her leaning our way.” Francesca’s voice hardened. “With Varnelli in the mix, we cannot afford a single misstep. If keeping Blackwell’s attention buys us even a fraction more leeway, you’ll do it.”
“I know, I know.”
They ended the call and Lucia let out a soft curse, curling her fingers into the couch cushion. Dealing with Francesca with the shadow of Varnelli looming over them was like trying to walk a tightrope over a nest of vipers. Zero out of five stars—she couldn’t recommend it.
She also hated the guilt, feeling like she wasn’t doing enough, didn’t put in enough effort to repay Francesca for all she’d done.
Before she could bring herself to get off the couch and get something done, her phone rang again. She sighed, bracing for another of Francesca’s calls reminding her of something she’d forgotten, but instead, Lucia straightened and rushed to answer when Blackwell’s name popped up on the screen.
“Dr.Blackwell! Hi. How may I help you?” She worried at her lower lip, annoyed by how breathless she sounded.
“Are we truly going to remain this formal, considering you invited me out for a cup of coffee?”
Lucia gave a faint smile. “Hmm, I don’t know. I see the appeal.”
“I suppose, but wouldn’t that stand in the way of getting to know each other?”
“Uh.” Lucia’s cheeks heated.
“Or did I misunderstand your motivation in asking me out?”
“I, uh, I didn’t realize meeting for coffee is a cue for dating.”
“Obviously not. I merely read the room.”
“I see.” Lucia rubbed the back of her neck.
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you still want to get that coffee? I know a quaint little place not too far from the Meridian. In case you want to keep pretending you want to meet with me for professional reasons.”
Lucia let out a harsh breath. Where was the woman who’d been flustered at the museum just two days ago? “Yes. I want to. Whichever place you’d prefer works for me.”
Again, she could picture Blackwell’s smile when she said, “All right, then. I’ll text you the location.”
“Wait. We didn’t say when,” Lucia blurted out.
“Oh, right. Yes, well, I’m free Wednesday and Thursday around five in the afternoon. Or we could meet on the weekend if you’d prefer.”
“Either way.”
