“Eat your food.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Watch it.”
Lucia smiled, warmth spread through her, and she silently congratulated herself on her impulse to bring Penelope lunch.
They continued eating until Penelope folded her wrapper and tossed it in the trash.
“Is this solely an unofficial-slash-social check-in or did Francesca want something?”
“It’s not about business.” Lucia held Penelope’s gaze. “But if there’s something you need to tell us, I can relay that information.”
“Varnelli contacted me again. I was wrong. She’s not letting this go and is still pushing to get out of the loan contract, talking about lawyers and bad press for the Meridian.”
“I see. What’s the usual protocol for this?”
“Well, she signed a contract, but it’s still her property.” Penelope waved her off. “Yes, yes. I know. No need to defend your surrogate mother.”
Lucia pursed her lips.
“Montgomery doesn’t want to lose the painting, so it’s unlikely anything happens. And knowing Varnelli, she’s about asfond of spectacles and attention as Francesca, so I doubt she’ll take this to court.”
“Yeah.”
Penelope brushed crumbs off her desk. “But you might want to let people know about the urgency behind it.”
Lucia nodded. The space between them felt fragile, like glass that would shatter if she reached too far. She hated how her relationship with Penelope wasn’t clear-cut, that all this Collective andMadonnabusiness stood between them and whatever they could be. Potentially even dooming them. On the other hand, would they even have met otherwise?
“And Lucia? We might want to keep our contact mostly…digital. For many reasons.” She shot her a significant look.
Lucia’s pulse stumbled. She blinked once, twice. What had she expected? Something more, maybe. Stupid. Hope truly was a cruel companion. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry.”
Penelope’s eyes flickered, almost like she wanted to take it back. Then she said, softer, “Please don’t be. I did enjoy seeing you. This is all just…complicated.”
“I know.” Lucia nodded once, forcing a smile. When she left, the faint click of the door behind her sounded louder than it should have. She didn’t look back.
Chapter 20
Sad Apples
Curled up on her couch with Fuller on her lap, Penelope leafed through her father’s notes for the third time that week, still circling Belgrave Trust without finding anything concrete. Her laptop balanced on the armrest beside her, open to a half-finished search query. She still spent most of her free time lost in research, and, well, texting with Lucia.
True to form, Lucia respected the digital-only boundary Penelope had drawn. Penelope hadn’t expected or even wanted her to break it—she just hated that she herself wanted to. Wanting to see Lucia again was half the reason she’d made the suggestion in the first place. Being logically inclined was a pain in the butt sometimes.
She reached for her mug and grimaced. She’d let the green tea steep too long.
Perhaps her research drive had increased because it proved to be somewhat of a distraction. How funny, considering it had been her main obsession since the fallout with her father.
Her father’s conviction had left her floundering, so she’d spent the year afterward in archives, poring over provenance records, chasing whispers of fraud through restricted databases, and tugging on every thread Valentina had left dangling. What she found—old correspondence, stray references, fragments—was enough to harden her grief-fueled hunches into something real and to give her enough certainty to approach Valentina.
Only after her mother had relinquished the full set of his private notes did those scattered traces crystallize into something closer to proof. And months at Valentina’s doorstep—the woman was a damned vault—had yielded little until now, when she seemed to have unintentionally stumbled into her best chance at reaching her goal, even if Belgrave Trust still stared back at her from every margin of her father’s notes like an unanswered question.
One she still needed to bring up with Francesca, though who knew when she’d see her next. If she’d see her again at all.
Penelope sometimes thought Francesca and Valentina were two sides of the same coin. Polar opposites in looks and temperament, yet both exuded the kind of confidence that amassed loyalty. A sort of charisma that drew people to them and kept them steadfast. To her, Francesca’s loyalty seemed more deserved, but what did she know? She was biased, too.
And here she was, circling back to Lucia because all paths led to her.
