40. Aiden
Aiden
When I wake up and reach for Isabel, she’s not there. The cold side of the bed tells me she’s been gone long enough to matter. I’m moving before anything else sets in.
“Isabel.”
Nothing.
Control first. Panic later, if warranted. The building is locked down tight. Darius confirmed it himself. Security posted, perimeter tight, no risk of a breach. The ladies assigned to us while King Antonio and his wife are in London are supposed to be elite.
They had better live up to that. Because if they don’t, I’ll deal with it personally.
The bathroom is clear. I backup into the bedroom, head for the door and throw it open, stepping into the main area of the penthouse. I keep moving. My need to confirm she’s safe drives me. After everything that’s happened, I’m not trusting assumptions.
Rounding the corner to the living room, my feet stop when I see the two female guards on the sofa, coffee in hand like nothing’s amiss.
They glance up, then drop their gaze just as fast.
“Where’s Isabel?” I ask, hoping they know.
The one closest to me points without meeting my eyes. “She’s in the gallery.”
I start that way when the one next to her says, “Should we tell him, Hillary?”
“Tell me what?” I frown at them. “And the answer is always yes.”
Hillary’s smirk says it all. “Clothes.”
Looking down, I let out a low groan, covering my dick with my hands. “Sorry. Forgot. Didn’t expect anyone to be here.”
“It happens.” A playful grin spreads across Amanda’s face as she tips her head back. “We’re used to it. Trust me, we didn’t intentionally look.”
I turn my back to them, and I hear them snicker.
Hillary mutters under her breath, low enough she probably thinks it won’t carry.
It does.
“Damn. Our little princess knows how to pick them. Wow, just… wow.”
Not embarrassed in the slightest, and fully aware of what she’s referring to, I reply over my shoulder. “I thought you didn’t look?”
Amanda laughs hard, not trying to hide it. “Sometimes it’s impossible not to notice. Now we get why she fell so hard and fast. Impressive.”
Women.
When I re-enter the bedroom, my focus shifts. Clothes. My pants are in the bin, and they’re staying there. They’re covered in that fucker’s blood, and I’m not about to put them back on. Not after we worked so hard to push those thoughts out of her head.
After checking every drawer, I’m close to settling on a towel until someone brings me clean clothes. The last one finally gives me something useful. Sweatpants. I dig through until I find a pair that might work.
They’re larger than her others. When I look at the tag, I groan and push the thought aside on why men’s sweatpants are in the bottom of her drawer. They’re tight and short, but they’ll work.
At least I’m covered. I step back into the living room, attention snapping right back to the task at hand. Both ladies look up, their silence doing nothing to hide their smug faces.
“Fuck off,” I grunt as I stomp past them. “It’s all I could find. Maybe be useful and have someone bring me clothes that actually fit.”
Amanda lifts her phone and winks. “Already covered.”
The gallery door is closed when I reach it, the keys still hanging from the lock. I push it open, pull them free, and slip them into my pocket as I step inside.
Isabel is stretched out on the floor, staring up at the wall now covered in the art I was sure was stolen. Her eyes are puffy, telling me she’s been crying.
She turns her head when I step in, her gaze narrowing before dropping. “Why are you wearing Danilo’s sweats?”
“Who the fuck is Danilo?” I tug the legs up as I sit down next to her.
“My nephew. Esteban’s oldest. He left them here the last time he came to London.” She turns her attention back to the painting in front of her. “You thought they were someone else’s, didn’t you?”
“I admit nothing.” I fall back and take her hand in mine. “What are we looking at?”
Isabel’s head rests against my shoulder as she explains. “The one directly in front of us is the Botticelli.”
I’m no art expert, but I’ll admit it’s pretty awesome.
Not sure I’d pay someone to steal it, but that probably has more to do with my moral compass than anything else.
Trent has no compass, so no surprise he hired Alma to lift it from his enemy.
It could’ve been the ugliest painting on the planet, and he’d have wanted it.
Meant more to know the Russian died knowing his once prize possession would forever hang in his mortal enemy’s office.
“The one on the right is a Piet Mondrian. I remember when Grams first showed it to me. I was ten, just starting to appreciate why art brought others joy.”
She falls quiet for a moment, giving us both time to take it in.
“It was stolen from the Barretts three years before I ever laid eyes on it. My grandmother purchased it at an auction after it was miraculously discovered in a warehouse a year and a half after the Barretts’ house burnt down.
They were forced to sell everything they could to cover the insurance fraud charges brought against them. ”
“How do you know that?” I shift so I can see her face.
Reaching behind her she hands me a black leather book.
“It’s all in there. My grandfather took advantage of the situation and convinced Mr. Barrett to sell him his first edition of Dracula.
According to this ledger, he paid just over forty pounds.
A real steal for a book is such excellent condition. ”
I flip onto my stomach and spread the book open in front of me. “Where did you find this?”
Rolling onto her side, she stares at the ledger.
“Under his desk in a hidden safe. I also found the camera. It’s inside a false, but very realistic-looking, fourth edition of The Canterbury Tales.
I was climbing down the bookshelf when I slipped and landed on my arse. When I looked up, there it was.”
“You’ve been busy,” I say, my attention catching when her robe slips and one of her amazing tits pops free.
She fixes it and explains more. “I needed answers.”
“You should’ve woken me.” I glance down at the first page and start reading. Rico Lopez was thorough, meticulous. “If this fell into the wrong hands…”
“My grandmother would spend the rest of her life in prison.” She rolls over onto her back again, eyes fixed on the wall. “I’ve already thought about that. Which is why I plan on burning it.”
I flip the page, scanning the entries. This goes back decades. Long before Isabel came along.
“We can certainly do that.”
“I know it’s wrong.” Isabel faces me, and her eyes are full of sadness. “That I should hand that over to Darius.”
“Also an option.” I turn the page. “But I like the first one better.”
“You do?” She sounds surprised.
“Some things are better left in the past. Nothing good comes from bringing this into the light.” I flip the page again and stop when I see Trent’s name.
“Although… it might be worth keeping. There are a lot of names in here. A valuable bargaining chip. If this surfaced, lots of wealthy, powerful people would fall.”
“You want me to use it as blackmail?” Her tone drops, making it clear she thinks that’s risky.
“Not the way you’re thinking.” I close the book, keeping my hand on it.
“Once this gets out, people will move on it. They’ll start making claims regarding your grandfather, assuming it’s safe and looking to profit.
” My finger taps against the leather. “I’ve been around long enough to know how these people work. ”
“I don’t know, Aiden. It sounds risky. Shady.
” Her eyes wander around the room, carefully taking in every corner.
“I’ll never look at these pieces the same way again.
The sheer scale of the lies used to make each of these sales legal is…
nauseating. I wish I could understand why she did it. Why my grandfather allowed it.”
“Those are details you will likely never understand.” I lean closer and bring my face in front of hers. “Can you live with that?”
“I don’t really have a choice.” She brushes her hand along my cheek. “One good thing came from all this, I suppose.”
“What’s that?”
“You.”
I wrap an arm under her and flip us over so I’m now on my back and she’s sitting on top of me. “I found you before all this. Our paths would’ve crossed again.”
“Maybe.” She adjusts until she’s almost resting fully on top of me. “But I wouldn’t have survived this without you. I can’t believe it’s only been two weeks since running into you at the club. If I hadn’t—”
“Shhh.” I rest my fingers over her mouth, not about to let her finish that thought. “Fate was on our side. Right place, right time. Now you’re stuck with me.”
“Lucky me,” she says against my finger, her lips curling into a grin. “Do you think we’re moving too fast?”
“No.” I don’t have to think about it. “But we can slow it down if that’s what you need. I won’t hold you to the yes you gave me earlier. But that doesn’t mean I won’t remind you why you said it. Convince you in due time why you can’t live without my cock deep inside you at least once a day.”
“Will you, now?” The way her face lights up warms my heart. “You sound quite confident about that.”
I smack her arse and wink. “That’s because I am. And if you aren’t careful, princess, I’ll prove it.”
She grabs my face, her smile turning dangerous. “Your cock is my new favorite ride.”