My release floods Isabella as my lips claim hers. The morning sun shines down on the pillow where her hair is splayed around her face and her head rests, eyes gazing up at me. My hips pump into her, and I feel each tiny pulse of her core around me as her orgasm unravels. She’s gorgeous. Intoxicating.
‘Mmm, wow,’ she moans, draping her arms around me greedily as I roll to the side and pull out. She rolls with me and stretches out across my chest as my arms come around her. ‘Do I get to wake up to this every morning now?’
Her smile steals my breath, but I’d gladly give it to her every day for the rest of my life. I reach up and brush her hair off her cheek, then cradle her against my body.
‘I think it could be arranged… But we can’t linger this morning.’ As much as I want to stay in this bed with her all day making love, we have some things to finish up. My father is waiting downstairs. I heard him arrive only moments ago, and he will expect answers from me about the painting and everything that’s transpired. I’m sure by now, he’s heard about the coverup Rocco has set in motion surrounding the car accident and shooting.
‘Aww, well it’s a shame we can’t. I’d have gladly done that again and again.’ Isabella’s fingers walk across my bicep and she grins at me, propping her chin on my chest to meet my gaze.
‘As would I.’ Having her in my arms is the real prize out of all of this, not the diamonds or the documents they’ll lead me to. When I targeted her at the gallery, she was nothing more than a tool to provide a service, just as my father still sees her. But everything changed, and I don’t think I want to do this without her. ‘Bella, before we go…’
‘He wants the painting?’ she asks, and I sigh.
‘He doesn’t care about the painting, but I do want it back. We can talk about that later. Right now, I need you to agree with me that those diamonds, when they’ve served their purpose for my father and we have the proof in our hands that we need…’ I search her eyes, and it’s like she reads my mind. The connection we have goes beyond knowledge to a frequency we’re both living within.
‘They’ll help us build something real and lasting, something that will inspire and educate future generations…’ Every syllable her lips form only cement in my mind more firmly that we were made for each other.
‘And we’ll destroy anything that will bring harm to anyone.’ I squeeze her harder and feel the release of weight off my chest. Years of searching for answers and a way out have come to this, and now we will forge a new path forward. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be instantaneous, but it will happen. And it will last.
‘We should go downstairs,’ I tell her, ‘or he will come up here, and I’d rather not share your sexy body like that.’ I nudge her, and she rises to a seated position.
Her body is covered in bruises from the accident, but her soul seems to be healing. I slip out of bed and take a pair of boxers and dress. She heads for a shower as I send a text to my maid that we need the clothing procured for Isabella while we slept. I leave the bedroom when I’m presentable and meet the maid on her way up to deliver Isabella’s new clothing.
In the living room, my father sits in a leather armchair smoking a cigar with a scowl on his face as he waits, and I carry what he has been waiting for. His eyebrows lift and he quickly sets the cigar in the nearby ashtray and rises.
‘You have them.’ He moves toward me quickly, reaching for the resin-coated diamonds as he walks. I can see the relief in his eyes—the same sensation I experienced only moments ago as I spoke with Isabella.
‘And we know where the documents are. We just have to plan a time to retrieve them.’ It brings me great pleasure to give these things to him and know he is seeing the realization of something he has worked so hard for his entire life. A softer man would cry tears of joy, but my father merely slaps my shoulder and nods at me.
‘Well done, Son.’ I swear I see his eyes mist up, but a noise across the room catches my attention and I turn with him to see Isabella, dressed in a dark red, wrap-around dress, with her hair braided across one shoulder. Her feet are bare, and her eyes sparkle with affection.
‘I’m not interrupting?’ She tiptoes into the room toward me, and I extend my arm to welcome her.
‘Not at all, I was just telling my father we have secured the painting and its secrets and it’s all thanks to your work.’ Hugging her tightly against my side, I press a kiss to her forehead as she smiles and splays a hand on my chest. My father eyes us for a moment before turning his full attention on the diamonds.
‘I assume the frame has been destroyed…’ He sounds curt, cold even. ‘When will I have the painting?’ His eyes rise again to lock on Isabella, but I don’t back away. He may not understand this connection yet, but he will and he will accept it for what it is.
‘It will be reframed and in your hands this evening, Papà.’ My response doesn’t move him. He stares at Isabella expectantly, but she doesn’t hesitate to respond too.
‘Yes, absolutely. I’ll have Paolo prepare it and make sure it’s delivered here before close of business. Thank you so much for allowing me to review such an exquisite work of art.’ Isabella smiles softly, and her feminine touch seems to soften my father’s rough edges a little. He grunts and nods, now looking down at the diamonds in his hands.
‘Yes, well I’m not sure I had a choice in the matter,’ he grumbles as he sets the diamonds on the old Victorian coffee table and returns to his armchair and cigar. ‘When Victor gets something in his head to do, he is like a greyhound chasing a rabbit.’ My father nods at the sofa, and both of us take a seat as we wait for the maid to bring brunch for us to enjoy. My arm stays firmly around Isabella’s shoulders the entire time, which doesn’t seem to please my father much, but he’s always been an implacable man.
Isabella clings to me hesitantly. I can sense her nervousness around my father, whose reputation precedes him more loudly than mine does me. He can be over the top and a bit intimidating for sure. I ease into the cushion next to her and pat her arm comfortingly as he stares at her for a moment, taking a long drag on his cigar as if he disapproves of our closeness. But he’s not here to judge my relationship status. I know he came for two reasons—the diamonds, and an update on a task I requested he take care of for me since I was too busy chasing legends to handle it myself.
‘So, the painting?’ I say, and I see the recognition in his eyes as he nods a few times.
‘Yes, the countryside… What did you call that again?’ His eyebrows rise again, and he takes another long drag from his cigar, this time holding the smoke in his cheeks and letting it puff out in rings that swirl as they rise to the ceiling.
‘I didn’t…’ I glance at Isabella, who is clueless about it all. ‘The artist usually names it.’ A small smile begins to creep across my face as I turn back to hear what he’s got to say.
‘Well, it went for three million, so I need to know whom to make the check out to. My fee is, of course, twenty percent, but at that price it’s pocket change, really.’ My father gestures with his cigar, and the smoke twists and winds like a snake in the air.
‘Well, Bella? What do you call it?’ She looks up at me with narrowed eyes, sitting a bit straighter in the seat.
‘Call what?’ she asks, looking back and forth between my father and me.
‘The painting… of the countryside. Your memory of your grandfather’s house. What do you call it?’ I’m giddy with excitement for her reaction. She has no idea I’ve taken her painting and tried to sell it, but it only proves that her work is excellent enough to put her on the map. For a woman like Isabella, just one painting has set her up for life. She can do anything she wants, but when people find out one painting went for that much, they’ll come running for anything else she creates.
‘Mine?’ At first, concern etches her brow in deep lines. Then she relaxes and stares at my father.
‘Well, yes. My buyer out of Paris says it’s on par with the greats. You really painted that painting?’ And like magic, a switch flips between them. I see the admiration and respect in his eyes as he peers at her over his cigar, which he brings to his mouth again.
‘Victor…’ she breathes, turning to me.
‘So I had him sell it. You’re allowed to be angry with me.’ I smile at her and playfully kiss her lips. ‘I knew it was worth something, and now you have proof that other people will love your work as much as I do.’
Her hand flutters upward to cover her mouth as tears brim in her eyes. ‘I can’t believe this,’ she mutters, shaking her head.
‘Well, believe it,’ Papà says, chuckling. ‘And while we’re on the topic, I’m going to need one of your cards. I believe I’d like you to run our entire authentication department.’ His eyes narrow on me. ‘That is, if you’ll join us. I have a fantastic plan.’
His grin says it all—the musings of decades of his life are coming to fruition before our eyes and right in step with my thoughts of reinventing this entire family. It feels so good to know my father and I are on the same page without even speaking in detail.
Isabella blinks and tears drip down her cheeks. ‘Uh, my purse,’ she mumbles, and I nod at the stairs.
‘On the bedside table. But be quick. They’ll bring brunch soon, and we have so many details to discuss.’ I kiss her lightly before she stands and dashes off, then lean forward, planting my elbows on my knees. ‘You’ll really do this? Bring her into the fold? You know she’ll want to partner with us, Papà. She won’t be silent…’
‘Nor should she be,’ he says, turning to tap his cigar on the ashtray and roll it around to keep his cherry intact. ‘You know, your mother loved art too. I’ve never met a modern artist as skilled or passionate about her art as her. Isabella reminds me of her, you know.’
All I can do is sit back and marvel at the change in my father. He’s a stoic man, not concerned with love or romance much at all. But hearing him talk about my mother brings up feelings of nostalgia.
‘I didn’t know. You don’t speak of her much.’ I hear the door upstairs shut, and I’m eager to have Isabella by my side again.
‘Oh, yes. She loved art and everything cultured. She’s the reason I am who I am today, Victor.’ He points two fingers at me, cigar pinched between them. ‘You might just be carrying on her legacy, as if Ms. De Luca is the embodiment of everything your mother would’ve wanted for you.’
I sit back and revel in the warm emotions swelling inside my chest. It feels like the stars have aligned and finally, life is beginning to make sense. I can’t wait to see what the future brings.
