Chapter 11
Eleven
The drive to the Jordaan District was quiet and tense. Sofie held perfectly still in the passenger seat, despite her throbbing backside. Beside her, Andrei was like an angry cat—quiet, seemingly calm, but there was tension in him that would have been a lashing tail had he actually been a cat.
Sofie had assumed—hoped—that Landon or Colette would drive her home.
But Landon refused to leave Colette to drive Sofie by himself, and Colette was “in no condition” to sit in a car.
Sofie sympathized with that.
But that meant there was no one to drive her but Andrei. Colette had argued and proposed alternatives until Landon quieted her with a kiss and whispered words.
Leaving Sofie and Andrei to head down to Landon’s rental car in tense silence. A silence that hadn’t changed since.
Time had ceased to exist, or maybe ceased to have meaning, in the club. She’d seen the way the sky lightened over the course of her time with Andrei, but hadn’t really processed the meaning.
Now, they were stuck in Amsterdam’s famous traffic, the city not really meant for cars.
“Is this the best route?” Andrei said, startling her.
She glanced at him, and he motioned to the map on the screen in the car.
“Oh…I think so?”
His hands tightened on the wheel. “Is driving another thing you’ve never done?”
Her face burned with embarrassment so deep it was bordering on shame.
“That’s not unusual,” she said through a tight throat. “There’s no need for a car.”
Some of the tension faded from his arm muscles. “I suppose there isn’t.”
Andrei had gone upstairs to the top floor of the club and returned in a soft sweater and casual pants. Sofie was back in her dress, feeling rumpled and overdressed. She’d forgotten her mask back at Club Alibi, but at this point didn’t care. Before, she’d planned to keep both the dress and mask a memento of her first theft.
Now, she would burn the dress, despite the hours she’d spent on it. The idea of destroying her own art hurt, but there was some comfort in knowing Colette would keep her dress and mask, so at least some of the things she’d created for this ill-fated plan would survive.
They inched through the city, over narrow bridges and cutting down narrower roads.
Andrei made a cold sound of amusement as they passed a sign.
“Isn’t De Wallen the red-light district?”
She raised her chin, hoping she wasn’t blushing. “It’s the medieval part of the city. It’s where Oude Kerk, the oldest building, is.”
They were stopped, so Andrei glanced over, brow raised.
“And it’s the largest of our prostitution district.”
“And you live there.”
“No, I live in the Jordaan District. It’s close, but not the same.”
It looked like he might ask another question, but instead, a muscle in his jaw flexed and he faced forward, hands tightening on the wheel.
Sofie swallowed hard, looking out the passenger window.
Another fifteen minutes, and they were on the road that bordered the Prinsengracht canal, turning away from the water onto a narrow, one-lane road. Tall, narrow row houses crowded close to the street, and several bikes swerved around them, almost scraping the car as they navigated the too-small space left between the vehicle and wall. They didn’t even slow down, navigating the street with the fearless confidence of Dutch bike riders.
Andrei cursed in a language she didn’t know, and she couldn’t stop a smile. He was just…perfect.
What a stupid thought, though the stupidity didn’t make it less true.
Andrei was cunning and quick, devilish and yet caring. Part of her wanted to tell him that. To say that she was glad so many of her firsts had been with him. But he didn’t want to hear that. He was here to drop her off, drive away, and never see her again.
“I’ll get out here.” She reached for the door handle.
“No. Where is your house?”
She wanted to argue, but it wasn’t like he could back up or turn around. He had to keep going until the end of the street.
“Do you see the break between the buildings? Just up there?” She pointed.
Andrei inched farther down the street. Most of the narrow houses that the Jordaan District were famous for shared walls, the entire street a single solid front. But here, there was a break between two buildings, just wide enough to walk down.
One of the buildings stuck out farther than the other, which is what had concealed the break when viewed from their direction.
“Here,” she said, then the little path was clearly visible, and Andrei stopped the car.
She glanced over, even as she put a hand on the handle.
Thank you?
I’m sorry?
Sofie raised her chin, met Andrei’s gaze, and said simply, “Goodbye.”
The locks clicked just as she tried to open the door.
“I’m not just letting you out,” he said, bending a little to look out her window.
He pulled in to the narrow bit of space created by the building that was set back farther from the road. It left enough space on the road for a bike, though not another car.
“You can’t park here,” she said as he got out.
“I can.”
She waited until he’d opened her door to say, “You can’t.”
“They’re welcome to give me a ticket. I’m here on official Interpol business.”
Sofie paused, half out of the car, and looked up at him, abruptly reminded that her lies of omission weren’t the only reason she’d never see him again.
Andrei cocked a brow, and she climbed the rest of the way out of the car, wobbling a little in her heels. He didn’t touch her to steady her, and Sofie told herself she was glad. Andrei did close her car door, but kept distance between them as he followed her down the meter-and-a-half-wide path between the buildings.
It was dark and cool in the shadows, making the light seem startlingly bright when they emerged into the green space at the center of the long narrow block.
Mature trees, fat shrubs, and creeping vines filled the space, the backs of the buildings the walls of the hidden garden. Her path continued for several more meters, the low iron fence that bordered it obscured by greenery, a tree just in front of them concealing her house.
“This is beautiful,” Andrei said, pausing to look around.
She glanced back over his shoulder in time to see him close his eyes and take a deep breath.
“I’m there,” she said, pointing at the building just visible through the branches of the tree. “Goodbye.”
Andrei cocked a brow, shoving a hand into his pocket.
Fine. He could walk her to her door.
Sofie turned and followed the path to her door. Her home was a freestanding building in the middle of all the green. Three stories tall with picture windows on all sides, the footprint of the building was small, though it was more than enough space for her to live and work. Her front door was painted forest green, and the security keypad had been specially made with a brass housing so it matched the hardware.
Sofie typed in the code on the brass-buttoned keypad. The panel slid up, and she bent to the hidden camera so the facial recognition software would work.
Andrei let out a huffing laugh. “Now I need to see inside.”
She ignored him and typed in a second code on a six-button keypad just under the camera—this time, the buttons showed symbols rather than numbers—and the lock clicked.
Sofie grabbed the round knob and pushed the door open, preparing to slip in.
She wasn’t going to look back. Now that she was almost home, her emotions were swelling to the point that she couldn’t take a deep breath. She was going to take off this dress, curl up, and cry out all the embarrassment and sadness.
Andrei caught the door before she could push it closed.
Sofie turned to look at him through the narrow gap. Both his foot and the hand he had wrapped around the edge of the door would stop it from closing.
She gave it a try. First shoving the door then leaning her whole body weight against it.
The door didn’t move. Andrei merely raised a brow.
“Back up so I don’t hurt your toes, Angel.”
It was his use of the nickname that had her falling back in surprise. The instant she did, he pushed his way inside. Sofie backed up as he entered.
“You can’t be in here.”
“Why not.”
“You don’t have…paperwork. You need paperwork to enter my home.”
“I’m not here on official business.” He started to walk around the ground-floor studio space.
“You said you were.” Sofie stepped into his path to stop him. “When you parked the car.”
“I lied.”
Sofie crossed her arms. “I thought you didn’t like lying.”
“I lie all the time. Unless I’m topping.” His gaze finally shifted from the room to her, a line between his brows showing the start of a frown. “This is…”
Sofie didn’t answer, but there was clearly no way to stop him, so she stepped out of the way, turning to glance at her studio, trying to see what he would see.
Windows on all four walls let in light tinted faintly green as it filtered through the vegetation outside.
The center of the large room was open, her easel in a place of honor in the center. When she was working, there would be a drop cloth under her easel, but now, she was between projects, so the wood floor was bare. Given that she usually went without shoes, there was under-floor heating beneath the wood, which itself covered the original stone floors.
Wood shelving in one corner held sketchbooks, art reference books, and jars of pigment supplies. Some were glass, the exposure to light necessary, while others were brown glass or metal to keep out the light. A long metal counter ran the length of an entire wall, the lower shelf holding jugs of turpentine and linseed oil, along with varnish and less obscure supplies like tallow.
An apothecary cabinet held her brushes, organized by materials. When she first received them, her father had organized them by time period so she wouldn’t accidentally use a material unfit for the period of the painting. But now, she knew by heart when hog hair versus badger hair brushes were to be used.
The stairs hugged one wall, the windows in that wall a series of smaller square windows that paralleled the stairs themselves.
Tucked under the stairs was her technology station, with a large monitor, computer, professional scanner, overhead camera, and a small X-ray machine. Everything was set on steel tables or carts with wheels so she could pull them out into the center of the room when needed.
Andrei made a slow loop of the room, stopping to peer at the jar of lupus lazuli chunks, then again to study the soldering iron and bits of metal strewn across the long work counter, leftover from creating the pearl necklace.
Finally he studied her computer setup, and Sofie hid a wince. It was, perhaps, the most incriminating part of her studio, though everything could be explained away if necessary. Her father had made sure of that.
When Andrei didn’t move or speak, she took several steps toward him, though she wasn’t sure what she was going to do or say.
Her monitor caught her eye, because there was a message displayed on the screen, white text on black.
Sofie,
Je stelt me teleur. Je weet dat het niet veilig is om je studio te verlaten. Ik had beter verwacht. Er zullen consequenties zijn.
- Vader
Sofie’s stomach knotted, and she pressed a hand to it. She checked Andrei’s face, but he seemed to be studying the portable X-ray. The message was in Dutch, not English, so Andrei probably wouldn’t understand it. And even if he did, the message, like so many things in Sofie’s life, could be explained away. Made to seem like something other than what it was.
The silence stretched, and though she was used to silence, she was used to silence when she was alone. This silence with another person was unbearable.
“Andrei—”
“You’re a forger.” Andrei turned to face her, and he was smiling. “You’re Colette’s forger.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You have an X-ray machine.”
Sofie shrugged. “I do.”
“No one but forgers need to X-ray paintings.”
“That’s not true. Auction houses, museums?—”
“You are neither of those.”
“—restorationists,” she said louder.
“And are you? A restorationist?”
“I have done restoration work.”
Andrei let out a hard laugh. “I knew I should have arrested you.”
“For what?” Sofie spread her hands. “You have nothing.”
Andrei’s gaze hardened and then slid down her body. It wasn’t until he licked his lower lip that she felt the shift, and her body started to heat.
“I had something,” he said, but it was almost to himself. “Or at least I thought I did.”
Sofie didn’t know how to answer that, but she understood it. The sense of loss was there, buried under her embarrassment. Loss of what could have been, had she been truthful.
But it never would have been, because he would never have touched her if he knew how innocent she was.
“Painting is not a crime.” Tired of wearing the heels, she slipped out of them, toes wiggling happily on the warm wood floor. “Even attempting to recreate a masterpiece is not a crime. It’s how art is taught in many schools.”
“And the fact that you're friends with a world-class thief?”
“What is it you said Colette says? Allegedly?”
“And that your friend the thief was eyeing a pearl necklace, and you just happen to have jewelry-making supplies?” He gestured back to where the soldering iron rested in its spiral mount, and small pieces of precious metals were laid out on a soft leather mat.
“I’m an artist, but not confined to one medium.” She gestured at her dress. “I made this too. My sewing studio is upstairs. Does that make me a forger?”
Andrei stalked toward her, a slow, focused prowl. Sofie held her ground until he was an arm's-length away, and then her instincts took over and she backed up. He backed her all the way up to the wall, slapping his hands on either side of her shoulders to cage her in.
Andrei leaned in close, and some stupid, romantic part of her thought maybe he was going to kiss her. She stared at his lower lip, aching with the need to be kissed.
“I wish you weren’t such a liar, Sofie.”
Her gaze jerked up to his, and there was hunger and regret in his eyes.
“If I’d told you the truth?”
He caught of piece of her hair, sliding his fingers along it. “Maybe I would have taken you. Maybe the chance to touch an innocent angel would have been too tempting.”
Touch me, touch me, touch me.
His gaze hardened as his jaw clenched. “But my soul is not that black. Not yet.”
He pushed away from the wall and backed up.
Sofie stayed where she was, mouth parted, breathing deep but too fast.
“Goodbye, Angel.”
Andrei raked her with one last look before quietly opening the door and slipping out of her life.
Andrei leaned against the driver’s door of the rental car, which now sported a large scratch. He both was and wasn’t surprised to find out that Sofie was a criminal like her friend.
He’d known she was at the museum for nefarious reasons. He’d thought perhaps she was new to the game. Colette’s apprentice. She’d clearly be inexperienced, given that she hadn’t blended in well at all.
If only he’d stopped to ask exactly how inexperienced she was.
Once he got back to Club Alibi, he was going to ask Colette what the fuck she’d been thinking bringing her forger with her on a job.
But first…
Andrei brought up a translation app, and letter by letter typed in the message he’d memorized from her large monitor.
Sofie,
You disappointment me. You know it isn’t safe for you to leave your studio. I expected better. There will be consequences.
- Father
Andrei’s jaw clenched. This was none of his business. He needed to leave it alone.
But as he got into his car, a stone of worry formed in his gut.