“Why did we not see this?” he asked. Lachlan’s accusatory stare pained me.
The world fell on my shoulders. I’d created the mess.
Considering we carried each painting one by one, I should have noticed the fakes. But they’d been covered in thick cloth.
Lachlan bent down and lifted one after another, tossing each aside like trash, while I watched, clutching my arms.
He couldn’t look at me.
“Lachlan, I…”
He raised his palms to me. “Please. Don’t.”
When he arrived at the original, he laughed coldly. “How nice of him to leave one behind.”
The breaking point was when he left the room without acknowledging me. I took a deep breath and joined him in the living room, where he was pouring himself a full glass of liquor.
“I should’ve checked. The lighting was subdued in the vault—”
“I need to be alone,” he said while staring down at his phone.
After uttering a hundred apologies and Lachlan ignoring me, rage raced through my veins. “Well, fuck you too,” I snapped while stabbing the elevator button.
I waited with my back turned to him, hoping he would at least reassure me.
His silence screamed volumes. He blamed me.
A knife drove into my gut, and everything turned gray. I couldn’t even wait for the elevator. Instead, I ran down forty flights of stairs, frustration and despair pushing me along.
By the time I reached the sidewalk, I hated Lachlan Peace for dragging me into his complicated life.
Why didn’t I check the art before removing it from Florian’s vault?
People rushed past me in blurs as I stood in the middle of the sidewalk, my leaden body gripped by indecision.
I eventually headed to a café, ordered a coffee, and sat there staring blankly out the window. I felt as if I were having an out-of-body experience. Maybe this is what a bad trip feels like. People’s faces distorted before me like a Munch painting.
By the time I finished my coffee, my mind had finally settled, leaving behind a dull ache.
I couldn’t get over how Lachlan’s eyes had turned into daggers, stabbing with accusation. They were the same spellbinding eyes that shifted from tender turquoise to liquid fire when he fucked me raw.
He hated me, and I hated him—profoundly.
I scrolled through my contacts and called Gavin, one of my former lecturers.
“Hi, this is Miranda Flowers.”
“Ah! Miranda, how nice to hear from you. I’ve heard about the Artefactory. If anyone can make that work, it’s you.”
Although the acknowledgment should have made me sit up and smile, I gulped back a sob instead. Taking a deep breath, I mustered the strength of Hercules to ward off tears.
“Um… Something has happened. It’s serious. Can we meet?”
“I’ve got a free hour now if you can make your way up to the campus.”
“Sure. I’m not far. I’ll see you soon.”