Chapter 24 Conrad
Conrad
Idrove back to New Harbor right after talking to my mom and Beatrice. By the time I was knocking on Malena’s door, I had no idea how I was going to start, but fuck, I didn’t care.
“Cora, I told you, I was fine when you called ten minutes ago,” I heard her call as footsteps got closer to the doorway. “You didn’t have to come back and check on—”
Finally, it swung open.
She was dressed in polka dotted pajama pants and a crimson oversized Winchester University sweatshirt; her hair plopped at the top of her head and held together by one giant clip.
My heart tripped.
By some unfair law of nature, she always looked beautiful. My mind wandered to how she’d look waking up. If she’d look this… perfect.
Probably.
“Conrad—” She stilled in the doorway. “Don’t you have your races starting tomorrow?”
“I have to talk to you.”
“O-okay,” she stammered, twisting her fingers around the hem of her sweatshirt. “About what?”
So many fucking things, I thought. But for now, I’d keep it simple: “The story.”
She moved aside and opened the door a little wider.
“I have the MCATs on Saturday, but I was going to write the article after that,” she told me in what sounded like a stream of consciousness. “I have what I need…”
I took a couple of steps into their living room and noticed a dress laid out on the couch. A sparkling navy-blue skirt with a bejeweled bodice.
“You’re going?” My chest filled with something warm and pleasant.
I wasn’t surprised, charging ahead despite totally valid concerns was a very Malena thing to do. Which made her choice to pivot from the painting angle so frustrating.
The Malena I was getting to know wouldn’t do that.
“Still deciding,” she said, and I turned to her. “Cora and Sabrina aren’t here…” she murmured. “The dress doesn’t fit. It’s too big, or maybe I put it on wrong, but I can’t seem to get the pins in correctly…”
My smile fell. Was she finding excuses to not go?
She wrapped her arms around her waist and looked at the floor. “What’s up, Conrad?”
My mind kicked back on with why I was there, even though all I wanted to do was curl my arms around her. Something was wrong and I wanted to fix it.
“I need to tell you something.” Without hesitating, I took her through everything I’d learned at home that afternoon.
With every new piece of information, she stood a little straighter. Like a weight was slowly being lifted off her shoulders. The crumpled look of defeat unwound with excitement.
“If someone is selling pieces that could be Van Holdens, ones that were previously thought to be destroyed…” I trailed off at the end of the story.
“Maybe the pieces that were in those poster carriers were practice,” she surmised brightly. I didn’t know where she’d been since she ran from this—and me—on Sunday, but she was back now. “Do you think that’s one of the two that were sold?”
“I checked the gallery website, and the latest sales aren’t listed.” I took a step closer to her. “But they have to have that information at the gallery, right?”
“Someone has a list of his unshown pieces, the ones that’ve been lost to the world.
They figure out how to forge one and they can forge them all.
” She started pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table, and I stood still.
The bun atop her head bobbed precariously, the clip barely holding it together, and I couldn’t help but grin.
I liked this unkempt version of Malena. “And probably use the same art dealer. If they’re using the same gallery, that is. ”
“So, we find the art dealer, or whoever is selling them…”
Another spark lit in her eyes.
She crossed the span of the coffee table that cradled a few bowls filled with snacks and candies. A couple of knit blankets were strewn across the couch. Suddenly I was very aware that I was at her place and that her room was just down the hall. And that, unlike the last time, we were alone.
“And we find the forger.” She pressed her lips together and tugged at my shirt, rising to her tiptoes. “We have something here.”
“Yeah… We do,” I said quietly under the sound of my heart slamming against my chest. “Better than rich kids and predictable parties?”
“That part wasn’t so bad,” she whispered with a lilt in her voice. “We need to go to that gallery. Or at least get an idea of what’s being sold next.”
“Isha can probably set up a meeting with the curator,” I told her. Beatrice offered as well, but I was sure Ishani would ask fewer questions. “She’s been known to go on shopping sprees that include rare art, so she’ll jump at the chance.”
Mal nodded. “You think she’ll agree?”
“I might have to tell her why, but Isha can keep a secret.”
“I guess that’s okay.”
“She’s not our culprit, that much I know,” I assured her. Isha had more money than God and absolutely no reason to be in on this. “And she won’t risk us losing the Keller Award—she knows how important it is to me.”
Mal’s brow jumped. “To you?”
My face heated. “Maybe.”
I wanted so much more than I’d ever expected to want. Maybe, out of spite, I’d avoided the paper all this time. But this story was pulling my attention, and I loved it. And whatever attention remained was Mal’s.
“Okay.” Her breath wisped across my cheek. She still hadn’t moved, and I tried to keep perfectly still so she wouldn’t.
Through the haze she had me in, I managed to remember that she had her MCATs in a couple of days. “I’ll ask Isha at the regatta this weekend.”
“Right. The races.” She dropped to her heels, but the electricity that encircled us kept her close. “Good luck.”
“You too.” My hands moved to her hips. I took a step forward and she matched it with a step back.
“Con…” She laid her hand on my chest but left it there, not pushing or pulling. Her eyes got lost in thought.
“Let me try, Mal,” I whispered into the column of her neck.
She let out a tiny whimper; the sound burrowed down my spine. I stepped her backward until she pressed against the wall.
“Con…” Her breathy moan puffed against my skin.
Fuck.
I held her chin and made her look at me. Indecision warred in her eyes.
“My test is in two days.” The delicate lines along her throat shifted around a hard swallow. “I have to focus.”
I nodded, trying to remember that I had to get going soon too, but my body really wanted to stay. “Where are you during fall break?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Yeah?” I breathed against her lips. “Scroll & Ivy always goes on a trip. This year the whole thing is on the Roy family’s dime. We’re taking the Rutherford jet to Paris and staying at the McMaster house. You can come in Sabrina’s place…”
“Oh.” Her eyes fell to the ground. “I don’t…”
“Think about it,” I encouraged. I pushed myself off the wall because if I stayed another second, I’d be waking up here and skipping the race. “Either way, I’ll see you after the races, Mal.”
If she didn’t want to go, I’d skip the damn trip if it meant spending a week here with her.
Her teeth scraped over her bottom lip and she nodded.
I left with the electric excitement of knowing that none of this was over. It was just getting started.