Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ella
I sat at a small table in the museum café, stirring my coffee absentmindedly as I glanced toward the entrance. The aroma of fresh espresso and warm cookies filled the air, but my appetite was overshadowed by the anticipation churning in my stomach. It had only been a few days since Lucas last visited, yet everything felt different now—more complicated and heavier.
After a while, Lucas walked into the open-air café, and my eyes immediately met his. He seemed effortlessly polished, despite the burden I knew he was shouldering. His dark suit stood out against the typical attire of museum curators and staff, but what truly captured my attention was the bouquet in his hands—delicate pale pink roses and elegant white lilies, beautifully wrapped in tissue paper.
I blinked in surprise. Before I could say anything, a small, excited voice cut through the café noise.
“Lucas!”
Bess came bounding toward him, her yellow dress a bright pop of color as she threw her arms around his waist. Lucas let out a startled laugh, crouching down to hug her.
“Well, this is a surprise,” he said, lightly tweaking her nose. “What are you doing here?”
Bess grinned up at him. “It’s Bring Your Child to Work Day! Aunt Ella almost forgot until I called her this morning and reminded her to bring my favorite dress!”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Guilty. She keeps me organized.”
Lucas smiled, his eyes lingering on me before he stood and handed me the bouquet. “These are for you.”
My breath caught for just a second. The soft petals, the delicate scent—I hadn’t expected this. Not today. Not with everything going on in his life.
“They’re beautiful,” I said, brushing my fingers over the blooms. “Thank you.”
Lucas shrugged, but there was something earnest in his expression. “I just thought you deserved something nice today.” He gestured toward the museum’s roped-off area where construction on the Chagall Exhibit was underway. “Looks like things are moving along.”
“Yes, thanks to your help.” Warmth spread through my chest. I wanted to say more, to tell him how much his kindness meant to me, but Bess was already tugging on my sleeve.
“Aunt Ella, can I go eat pizza with the other kids? Maria said she’s ordering different kinds!”
I smiled down at her. “Of course. Just check in with Maria when you get there.”
Bess gave Lucas one more quick hug before darting off, her curls bouncing as she ran to the far side of the café where the kids were gathered.
“Guess that means we’re officially off duty,” Lucas said, watching her go.
I gestured toward the table. “Then sit down. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
Lucas slid into the seat across from me, his hands wrapping around the coffee cup I had ordered for him. He took a slow sip before setting it down, exhaling as if he was bracing himself for the conversation ahead.
“I met with Lopez this morning,” he started. “He’s going to check with my father’s attorney, Frank Curtain, to see if the trust has actually been revoked.”
I frowned. “I thought Alistair already cut you off?”
Lucas let out a dry laugh. “So did I. But I talked to Gabrielle this morning, and she told me she overheard Dad talking to Frank a few days ago at the gallery. Frank told him to hold off on removing me from the trust—said it would raise too many questions if he did it too suddenly.” He leaned back in his chair. “So, I guess I’m in limbo until we get confirmation.”
I pulled out my phone and tapped open my news app. Sure enough, Alistair’s arrest was front-page news. I turned the screen toward Lucas.
“You saw this?” I asked.
His jaw tightened as he read the headline:
ALISTAIR DEVEREUX CHARGED IN STOLEN ART INVESTIGATION – ARRAIGNMENT SET FOR FRIDAY
“I figured it was coming,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
I hesitated, then asked, “Are you going to post bail for him?”
Lucas’s expression darkened. He stared down at his coffee, his fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “A part of me thinks he deserves to sit in jail for once. But…” He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t hate him, Ella. I just—I wish he’d tell the truth. Admit what he did. Or, at least, what he let happen.”
I studied him, choosing my words carefully. “Harboring stolen art is the same as stealing it.”
Lucas’s lips pressed together, and after a long beat, he nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”
I reached across the table, resting my hand lightly over his. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be here.”
Lucas turned his hand palm up, threading his fingers through mine. His thumb brushed absently over my skin, and it was just the two of us for a moment. No gallery. No stolen art. No media storm. Just Lucas and me, trying to navigate this impossible reality together.
A throat cleared behind us. The museum security guard stood by our table, his expression tight.
“Mr. Devereux,” he said in a low, cautious tone, “I thought you should know—the media has spotted your Jaguar outside. Reporters are waiting by the front entrance. One of them specifically asked for you by name.”
Lucas stiffened, his grip on my hand tightening. “They know I’m here.”
I shot him a concerned look. “You can sneak out the back,” I suggested.
But Lucas exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Running only makes it worse. If I don’t give a statement, they’ll write their own version of the story.”
I swallowed, not liking this one bit. “What are you going to say?”
Lucas glanced toward the café entrance, then back at me. His jaw set in quiet determination. “Just four words.”
I arched a brow. “And those are?”
“I have no comment.” Lucas’s tension was visible even as he reached for his sandwich. “Let’s just enjoy lunch before I deal with that mess,” he muttered, nodding toward the café doors.
I pushed his bowl of soup toward him. “You might as well eat. You’ll need your energy if you’re facing reporters.”
He gave me a wry smile before picking up his spoon. “You always know how to keep me grounded.”
We ate in comfortable silence for a while, the rich aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies lingering between us. I broke off a piece of mine, the chocolate still warm and gooey, and nudged Lucas’s plate. “You have to try one. They’re still warm.”
Lucas took the cookie, biting into it with a soft hum of appreciation. “Okay, I admit—this makes everything a little better.”
I smiled, relieved to see the brief flicker of ease in his expression. “Chocolate fixes a lot of things.”
The moment of levity was fleeting, though, as Lucas set his spoon down and exhaled. “Lopez told me something else,” he said, voice low. “If my father really didn’t remove me from the trust, then I’m still in charge of the gallery.”
My eyes widened slightly. “So… you could run it?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Lopez says I should act like I own the place until we get confirmation.” He rubbed his temple. “It’s weird. One second, I thought I had nothing, and now? Now, I might actually be the one keeping that place afloat.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” I said. “It’s an opportunity, Lucas.”
Lucas scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “An opportunity wrapped in a legal minefield.”
I squeezed his hand. “But your minefield.”
His fingers curled around mine, and the weight of it settled between us.
As we finished eating, I hesitated before speaking again. “So… have you decided if you’re going to bail him out?”
Lucas’s expression darkened, and he picked up his coffee, staring into it as if the answer might appear there. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Part of me wants to leave him there. Let him face the consequences for once. But another part of me...” He sighed. “He’s my father. No matter what he’s done, it’s hard to just turn my back on him.”
I nodded, understanding more than I wanted to. “If you do decide to bail him out, I’ll go with you,” I said.
Lucas looked up at me, surprised but grateful. “You’d do that?”
“Of course,” I said. “Moral support. But I do need to be home in time to pick up Bess from here. She needs to sleep in her own bed tonight.”
Lucas chuckled softly. “Understood.”
Just as we were finishing the last of our cookies, Bess came bouncing back into the café, grinning from ear to ear.
“Lucas!” she said, plopping into the chair next to him. “When can we go back to New York?”
Lucas blinked at her sudden question. “New York?”
Bess nodded eagerly. “Yeah! I had so much fun at the Met, and I want to see your mom again! And can we go to a bakery with the giant croissants? The ones bigger than my face?”
Lucas laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t have any trips planned yet, but how about something fun here in Miami?”
Bess tilted her head, considering. “Like what?”
Lucas glanced at me, his lips twitching with amusement. “How about the Miami Aquarium this weekend? If Aunt Ella says it’s okay.”
Bess’s eyes lit up as she turned to me. “Aunt Ella, please?”
I pretended to think for a second before smiling. “Of course.”
“Yay!” Bess threw her arms up in excitement, then turned back to Lucas. “Okay, but if we go, you have to touch a stingray.”
Lucas mock-winced. “That’s a bold request. But fine—only if you do it first.”
Bess giggled. “Deal.”
Lucas glanced at me as he stood, lightly touching my lower back as I grabbed the bouquet. He then led me toward Maria, who was overseeing the kids' activities.
"I'll give you a call when I get the update from Dad's attorney," Lucas said with a smile, squeezing my arm gently.
"You know where to find me," I teased, bringing the bouquet to my nose to smell the flowers.