Page 16 of Contempt

Lucia blinked.

Then, she quickly went back to the prints. She didn’t miss how the first print had the usual 30 scribbled on the bottom of the print with the artist’s name directly beside it. But the second print? It had 8 alongside the artist’s name.

“It’s a fake,” Lucia murmured.

She found Kelly grinning at her. “And how do you know that?”

“Eight comes before thirty,” Lucia said, shaking her head. “There’s no way the eighth print would be less perfect than the thirtieth. It has more area where ink hasn’t properly covered, and the jaw area of the profile is slightly off centered from the bottom lip.”

“And?”

Lucia laughed. “I mean, usually we don’t see that in hand-pressed prints until around the fiftieth print when they reset the blocks.”

Kelly nodded. “Well done.”

“It’s a good fake, though. I mean, if the number was different, maybe higher, then I would have overlooked it. Especially if it was in a print run with more than a hundred copies.”

“The eighth print in this edition has been missing for years.”

Ah.

Makes sense why someone would choose that number, then.

“Do you think the owner is trying to sell it knowing it’s a fake?” Lucia asked.

Kelly shook her head, and carefully picked up the first print which belonged to her friend. “Not at all. Christian Savino brought it in after his art dealer in Italy bought it to add to his profile, as he said. He trusted the dealer to know what he was doing. Afterward, he apparently had reason to believe the print was a forgery, and contacts of his put him in contact with us because I have access to one of the first fifty prints in this edition.”

“He’s not going to be happy when you send that back to him with the truth—”

“Oh, he’s here,” Kelly said, slyly. “Brought the print along with him for a trip, apparently.” Her boss checked the watch on her wrist, and then gave Lucia a smile. “He’ll be here in a few minutes, if he isn’t already. The man is punctual to a fault, but he isn’t all that bad to look at. Care to join me in delivering the news?”

Lucia shrugged. “Yeah, why not.”

Kelly wasn’t wrong, in fact, the owner of the fake print was already waiting in her office by the time the two had crossed to the other side of the gallery where the glass-walled offices were situated. All Lucia could see of the tall man—he was easily over six feet—was the expanse of his broad shoulders that faced them when they entered the office. With his hands shoved loosely into the pockets of his suit, he continued watching the street from the window of the office.

“Mr. Savino,” Kelly started.

“Christian,” the man said smoothly. “I have told you ten times now, it is just Christian.”

The Italian lilt to his words shouldn’t have shocked Lucia, but it did a little bit. Sure, Kelly had said an art dealer in Italy, but … she didn’t know any Italians outside of those who were still waiting for her to come back home to New York.

Then, Christian turned around. His wide smile welcomed them both, and his dark brown eyes drifted over Kelly before passing to Lucia just as quickly.

“Ah, this must be the apprentice you were telling me about, sì?” Christian’s charming smile widened a bit as Lucia stepped close enough to take his outstretched hand. She shook his hand, noting his tanned skin, and the gold rings adorning three of his fingers. She thought he had to be in his later twenties, but not older than thirty-five, at the most. As handsome as he was, and God knew Lucia had been put in front of enough handsome men over the last few years, she didn’t feel a flicker of any interest staring at this man’s face. Nothing. It was like she was dead inside. Soon, she dropped his hand, and stepped back to stand beside Kelly. “I hope you’re soaking in everything Kelly is teaching you. I hear she is the best of the very best.”

Kelly laughed. “Keep your charm to yourself, we have business to discuss. This print of yours, I mean.”

With that said, she tossed the tube holding Christian’s print of Blackmouth to the desk. He didn’t move to pick it up.

“Bad news, then?” he asked.

Kelly gave Lucia a look.

Lucia shrugged. “Well, it’s not great.”

Christian scowled. “It never is when I want it to be. Go on then, tell me.”

“It’s a fake,” Kelly said.