No evidence linked any of it to Lucia. No proof.
At least, not yet.
Chapter 10
An Unexpected (Unpreventable) Fall
Penelope’s leg bounced beneath her desk, her gaze fixed on the top right corner of her screen, watching time refuse to budge.
Lucia would arrive in an hour, and Penelope’s nerves were firing like one of those old-time popcorn machines at the fair: loud, erratic, and impossible to ignore.Ridiculous.
She minimized the open tab of her email about the Santini loan request she’d put in through a contact at the National.While she didn’t know what she expected to find, it wouldn’t hurt to have the experts at the National analyze the brushwork. Maybe they’d find something. Or not. Perhaps she was just chasing ghosts.
Penelope forced herself to focus on the report she needed to finish—more or less successfully—then jumped when her phone rang.
The front desk informed her that her guest had arrived.
“Here goes nothing,” she muttered, rising to meet Lucia.
When she saw her standing there—curly hair pulled back into a thick ponytail, gazing atThe War of the Worlds, a Renaissance painting depicting mankind’s battle against grotesque demons rising from an abyss—Penelope faltered.
Lucia was so lovely—shirt soft with wear, jeans slung low on narrow hips, curls catching the light like rope dipped in honey, her skin glowing in warm bronze.
Penelope hated herself for the thought. Even more so when her heart picked up its pace as Lucia turned and spotted her, a huge smile blooming on her beautiful face.
Traitor.
Penelope forced herself forward, torn between demanding answers, accusing Lucia of playing her, and sticking to her plan.
“Ms.Rossi, welcome back. Right on time,” she said with a smile that only somewhat resembled a grimace.
“Dr.Blackwell. It’s good to see you again.” A mischievous grin tugged at Lucia’s mouth, her dimples in full force.
Penelope wanted to punch something.
Instead, she gave a small nod. “Follow me, then. Let’s explore the belly of the beast.”
Lucia chuckled, a low, warm sound that Penelope immediately added to the list of things she needed to ignore and never think about again.
“What’s your favorite painting at the Meridian?” Lucia asked, stepping up next to Penelope and following her into the back area of the museum.
“Hmm, I’m partial to Renaissance oil paintings. The one you were looking at is definitely among the top three. I overall like the motifs of light and shadow, or the Underworld.”
“I can see that.”
Penelope halted. “How’s that?”
“I don’t know. Eternal struggle, good versus evil, demons trying to drag you down. You do seem the righteous type.” Lucia stuffed her hands into her pants pockets.
And yet you’re playing me.
“I see.”
“I mean no offense.”
“None taken.” Penelope picked up the pace again and they entered the staff-only corridor leading toward the west wing mezzanine, a quieter section rarely frequented by the public during the week.
“So, which painting holds the top spot?”
