Art of Sin (The Masterpiece duet #1)

Prologue

Vincenzo

“ Y ou’re broke, old man. Face it, this will be me saving your ass,” I huff, staring down at the gallery owner.

“You don’t understand,” he rushes out, clearly trying to bargain with me. “The gallery is all I have left.” I can’t help but roll my eyes at his unoriginal attempt and decide to play into the cliché.

“It’s not all you have left, but you and I both know that.” I not so subtly state; his eyes widen at my words.

“Y-you can’t,” he stammers.

“You underestimate me, old man. Either we work something out, or your quaint little gallery will fail. And in the end, if you lose it, it means that you will lose her. Is that what you want?” I hypothesize, as a tear rolls down his cheek and he begins to truly contemplate my offer.

“I can't just let you take the gallery away from her; it’s meant to belong to her one day,” he states, with a small amount of defiance in his tone which causes me to laugh at him.

“So, you want her to inherit your debts? Your failure? Your problems that you can’t even sort out yourself now. She will be better off without it.” I sneer, causing him to look away from me.

“If I agree to this, she can never know.” He avows.

I contemplate his words. I can play along with his scenario, but at the end of the day I’m the one calling the shots.

My phone rings, I look down to check the caller ID, ‘Kayla’ appears on the screen; I should answer it, after all this is about the sixth time she’s attempted to call me in the last hour.

But I quickly reject it, focusing my gaze back on Jeremy.

“You’re not in a position to make demands, Jeremy.

And I'm also not in a position to have to play nice.

Reality is, you're broke, and if you don't agree to my terms, you'll lose everything; the gallery, your precious paintings, and your daughter's entire inheritance.

It's not going to be from me taking anything away from her, it's going to happen because you’re neglecting your responsibilities.

" I divulge. Jeremy's eyes flicker around the room, checking to see if anyone is listening to our conversation.

I lean back in my chair, studying his features, seeing the true fear beginning to pass the facade.

“Look, I'll cut you a deal and it will be a once only offer. You have to shake on it, right here, right now and I’ll ensure your precious daughter never has to find out.” I offer, causing Jeremy to swallow hard as he looks back at me, his eyes pleading; giving all the signals that he will agree.

Suddenly, he speaks, mustering up a hint of courage.

"I can't do this. I won't have my daughter find out this way.

She deserves better than this," he declares, causing me to shake my head and sigh.

"Jeremy, you're not thinking straight. This is your last chance.

You can either accept my terms and protect your daughter from the truth, or you can refuse, losing everything and letting her discover it all on her own.

What do you want to do, old man?" I ask him directly, his eyes narrowing as he studies me; clearly trying to see if I am bluffing or not. I can tell he’s struggling with the decision, torn between his love for his daughter and the desire to hold onto the only thing he has left in his life.

Finally, he sighs and reluctantly reaches out his hand to shake mine.

The waitress comes over to our table and places our coffees down in front of us, I stare at the cup as Jeremy begins to scoff down his third croissant.

I knew I shouldn't have offered to pick up the tab. My phone rings again, it’s Kayla; the woman my father has promised to me is getting on my last nerve.

She’s determined to gain my approval, but I don't have time for her daily dramas right now.

I decide it's time to leave, needing to deal with this insufferable woman.

I slide out of the booth and stand my full height, leaving Jeremy to stare up at me.

“You aren’t staying?” he asks in confusion.

I let out an exasperated sigh and stare down at the old man for a moment.

“I will be in contact with you in the coming days to finalise our deal. I expect you to answer all of my calls. Everything we do is verbal, no emails and no texts. Got it?” I note.

He simply nods at me in understanding. I hand a wad of cash to our waitress and head for the door.

“Vincenzo?”

I turn, looking at the tired old man in the booth, and run a palm across my face. I raise a brow at him as I wait for his question.

“Can I eat that and drink the coffee?” he asks with a wide grin on his face.

“Help yourself,” I answer, shrugging at him before turning and leaving the cafe.

As I step out onto the bustling street, I take a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs. The encounter with Jeremy had left a bitter taste in my mouth, but it’s just the beginning. Walking briskly down the sidewalk, I pull out my phone and dial a number I memorised long ago.

"Hello?" A gravelly voice answers on the other end.

"It's done," I say without any preamble, my tone firm and authoritative.

There's a momentary pause before the voice responds. "Good. You know what to do next."

I hang up and slip the phone back into my pocket.

I know that in order to achieve our plan, I can't rely solely on Jeremy's collection of paintings.

No, I need to curate a new exhibition, one that will captivate audiences and attract buyers from all over the world.

And for that, I need something truly exceptional.

We need to make this gallery look legit to avoid any suspicion, and I know just the way.