Her gaze drifted to the pieces Lucia Rossi had left. Potential loan inquiries always jumped the queue, and with the Alessi’s oddities flagged in her preliminary notes, she could justify pulling both ahead for a quick desk review.
As talented as Alessi had been, this was…not better. Penelope wasn’t sure there evenwas“better” between masters of a craft, just different perspectives, divergent visions originating in different souls.
And this particular vision? It hummed with something beyond imitation.
“Huh,” she murmured into the stillness. Maybe there was more to forgery after all. But considering her own complicated background, it was difficult to see it in a more neutral light.
She traced a finger lightly along the canvas. The Bellini painting truly was stunning, almost better than it should be. What an odd thought. But there was too much emotion in the folds, too much ache in the light.
Penelope returned to her desk and put her glasses back on to finish her notes and request a series of lab tests for both pieces.
She might be confident the Alessi painting was a fake, but her role—and her nature—demanded certainty. Assumptions were dangerous. Certainty kept you employed, and out of prison.
Surprises were never welcome. She made a point to avoid them.
A flagged email from records caught her eye:Urgent – Madonna in Red.Her frown deepened as she read. She’d requested clarification from the Italian archives months ago, not expecting much. It was a long shot born of her obsession: cross-checking theMadonna’strail against obscure registries most curators would never bother with.
The reply surprised her, and a knot formed in her stomach.
Rising from her chair, Penelope crossed her office to a long side desk lined with working folders, neatly arranged by date and priority. The carpet muted her steps, the hush of the room broken only by the faint buzz of the overhead lights.
Yes, she had embraced the digital age. But there was something to be said for flipping through printed pages, pen in hand. The screen made her miss things and gave her headaches all too often.
Sometimes, she missed her days as a researcher. She didn’t regret becoming Chief Curator as it was the perfect next step in her career, but the paperwork that came with it…thatshe regretted.
She opened the folder on theMadonnaand lost herself in her notes, especially over the flagged discrepancy in the provenance papers. The name listed as broker didn’t match the original registry. And the date? Weeks off from the known acquisition record.
She’d flagged a minor inconsistency in the transfer record—easy to miss, but odd for a piece of this caliber. Something about the ownership trail didn’t fully track.
Her cell phone rang, tearing her out of her thoughts.
Valentina Varnelli.
The owner of theMadonnapainting.
“Yes?”
“Hello, darling. Have you thought any more about our little arrangement?”
Penelope closed her eyes and suppressed a sigh.
Officially, Valentina was an eccentric art collector. Unofficially, she headed Eris Group—one of the largest art crime networks. A strikingly beautiful woman, as benign as a saw-scaled viper.
Every interaction was a performance: beautiful, rehearsed, and always meant to corner you.
“I’ve looked into your newest acquisition,” Penelope said, crossing out a line on her notes. “But your so-called warning has made me a tad…paranoid.”
“Oh? Did a wolf already enter your exalted premises wearing sheep’s clothing?”
Penelope hummed, her gaze flicking back to the Alessi canvas. “That remains to be seen.”
“Do you need more information? I could send Chester over to walk you through the finer points.”
“No. I’ll figure things out myself.”
Valentina’s chuckle grated. “People think you’re just a curator. But I know better. You remind me a little of myself, you know?”
Penelope tightened her jaw. She hated how Valentina always slipped under her skin. “About theMadonna… I’ve been following its paper trail for months. The broker’s name and the acquisition date don’t line up. You’re right to be concerned. If the wrong people put two and two together, you could lose the painting. However, I didn’t need your warning to uncover that.”
