The Game

My cheeks flushed as my rambling thoughts ran off.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” I stuttered.

His eyes closed for a second. “I understand.”

Why did he have to say it like that? Why couldn’t he just return to the standoffish Tobias I’d first met?

Make this easier.

Because he’s Tobias Wilder, came my dark musing, and he’s got you right where he wants you.

“You came alone?” he said. “Impressive.”

“You ignored my calls?”

“I can reassure you I received all your cat GIFs. They did the trick. Forced me out of hiding, as you can see.”

I refused to smile. “You know why I’m here.”

He broke my gaze and let out a deep sigh.

“You can’t continue with this way of life.”

“My respect for art?”

“When we last spoke you confessed everything to me.”

He looked vague. “Confessed I love you.”

“You’re Icon.”

“To be honest I’m flattered.”

“I saw the evidence in your Oxfordshire home.”

“Fakes removed from the market.”

“Don’t.”

“Are we still discussing my need to kiss you? Or have we moved on?”

“Listen to me, you’re putting yourself in terrible danger. You’ll lose all this.”

“I’ve lost you, Zara, that’s all I care about.”

“Come with me to the police. Admit everything before it’s too late.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Shaking my head, I refused to be seduced further. “I’m going to submit my report this afternoon.”

“Report?”

“It’s ready to email over to Huntly Pierre. It details everything.”

He arched a brow seductively. “Everything?”

“Pertaining to my case, yes.”

“You and I had nothing to do with any of it,” he said, sounding serious. “I need you to believe this.”

“I’ll never know.” I gazed past him. “Jade, turn the camera back on.”

“I’ve reversed your access to her.” He smiled. “I love that color on you. Blue brings out your eyes.”

“I saw the paintings, Tobias. I know who you are.”

He gave a sympathetic smile. “Apparently, while I was away you found a Tibetan singing bowl and returned the stolen item to its rightful owner? Bravo.”

“You mean the one you placed on my kitchen table? And now my fingerprints are all over it. Because you put me in an impossible position.”

Those monks living in Bermondsey’s Buddhist temple, who I’d unwittingly stumbled upon thanks to Tobias’s mischievousness, had more than deserved the return of their sacred singing bowl. Only, for goodness’ sake, did it have to be me who’d committed the heroic and yet highly illegal act?

Tobias looked amused. “Free will is a privilege.”

I pressed my hand to my heart. “You told me that right before your mom died in that plane crash she asked you to return the painting you were transporting. The one by Annibale Carracci, Madonna Enthroned with St. Matthew, to its rightful owner.” I reached out and squeezed his forearm. “You were nine years old. Do you see how it’s affected you?”

“Let’s discuss St. Joan. The painting you just stole.”

“I was merely taking a closer look. Checking her frame to authenticate her.”

“And your findings?”

A lump lodged in my throat and I tried to swallow.

“The original was destroyed in a fire apparently?” he added. “Surely that provides some reassurance.”

“Why are you doing this?”

He pressed his firm chest against mine and I rested my hands to hold him at bay, and yet my fingers scrunched his shirt.

Tobias leaned into my ear. “How did it feel when you held her?”

Turning my head to look at St. Joan, deciphering if these inner tingles were coming from being this close to her again—

His mouth brushed over my ear. “She belongs to you. Holding her felt right. Your connection is soul deep and worth more than her appraisal could ever be. You want her back.”

I cursed myself for looking away.