Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Seymour
Wait a second. What?
Todd? Who is Todd? I look at this guy and then at Mandy. The pieces come together. I think back to that special moment after my stupid wealth test date and how she shared with me that another artist had stolen her ideas.
This guy Todd, known as Alexander Silvano, stole Mandy’s ideas?
A chill runs through me as I process this revelation, still bound to this hardwood chair in the dimly lit living room.
Those weren’t forgeries or practice paintings I found in her studio.
Of course they weren’t. I should’ve known better.
Those paintings were the originals. And they are so much better.
No wonder he wants to track them all down.
Alexander Silvano is a complete fraud.
My chest constricts painfully as I think back on our date.
My muscles ache from being tied up, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my heart.
I thought I was doing some great thing for Mandy by convincing him to show at the gallery and inviting him to eat dinner with us.
The memory of her face that night, the subtle flinch when he approached our table, it all makes sense now.
Really, I was digging the knife of betrayal in deeper.
Of course, she stumbled out of there.
I wish she told me. I wish I knew. But I don’t blame her, because there was still a wall around me, too. She sensed it. She didn’t feel safe enough to expose her past to me. And it cost her a lot to organize an event for him.
I want to fix this situation for Mandy.
I would do anything to rewind to the past and rescue her from this guy, but I can’t. My wrists burn against the rope as I fight to stay still, to keep my mouth shut while she confronts him. The room feels smaller by the second, the tension building with each word exchanged between them.
Good thing I’m staying quiet.
Because I had no idea how cruel someone could be. The wooden floorboards creak under Alexander, or Todd’s, feet as he shifts his weight, his shadow stretching across the floor between us. I’m still in shock from all the truth bombs.
That it was Todd who sent the note to me.
He wanted the Blackbeard painting. Somehow he knew it was in my uncle’s collection, or suspected it might be.
My neck muscles tighten as I think of the painting hanging in my bedroom.
Thank God I had hung it there and he didn’t think to search the house.
He just searched the collection in my study.
There’s no way I’m letting him have that painting now that I know it’s Mandy’s.
She repeats her question, voice haltingly slow, each word dropping into the tense silence of the room. “What did you mean by loose threads?”
Todd doesn’t answer. Instead, he repeats his demand, his voice taking on an edge I’ve never heard before. “Just Blackbeard, then I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. You’ll never hear from me again.”
She makes a croaking sound and a deep sob cracks through the silence. The sound echoes off the walls, making it even more devastating. “You...you burnt down my studio?”
What?
My body goes rigid in the chair. The ropes bite deeper into my wrists as I strain forward, wanting to comfort her.
I’ve never felt so helpless, so utterly useless.
I can see Mandy’s hands trembling at her sides.
How much have I missed in the last twenty-four hours?
The guilt weighs heavy. I should have been there for her.
Then Todd sneers, his face twisting with a cruel satisfaction.
His shoes scrape against the floor as he takes a step closer.
“I told you that night when you were out with lover boy here. I wasn’t messing around.
” He scoffs, the sound sharp and bitter.
“Anyway, that old rickety shed has been a fire hazard since the day you converted it. It wouldn’t take much. Anyone could see that.”
Mandy wipes her eyes with quick, angry motions, her breathing coming in deep, measured breaths. The air in the room feels thick, charged with tension.
Then he adds, his voice dripping with condescension, “You could have had a wonderful life with me.”
“No, Todd.” She straightens, her spine stiffening.
Each inch she grows taller seems to make him shrink.
“You stole my ideas and have passed them off as your own for years. You know what, you can have them, because you’ll only ever be half the artist I am.
” She looks at me and our eyes lock. Something electric passes between us, making my heart race despite my bindings.
Then, she yanks her gaze back to him. “And you’ll only ever be half the man Seymour is. ”
My heart pounds against my ribs, pride and love for Mandy surging through me.
Sirens pierce the air outside, starting as a distant wail but growing steadily louder. The sound cuts through the tension like a knife.
“Hear that?” Mandy says, her voice steady now despite her earlier tears. The sirens grow louder, their wail bouncing off the walls. “Those sirens are on their way here. You’ve been under investigation. It’s been a set-up. This entire event for Alexander Silvano. You walked right into our trap.”
I bite back a smile. I know nothing about that. She’s completely making it up, but watching Todd’s reaction is worth it. First, his eyes widen, then he’s wiping sweaty palms on his pant legs. The confident artist persona crumbles with each passing second.
“What do you mean?” he accuses, his voice cracking. The arrogant tone from earlier has vanished.
“Meaning they’re coming here for you.”
“No one can prove I stole your ideas, Mandy. You can’t copyright an idea.” His words come out fast, defensive.
She shrugs, the gesture casual and dismissive. Her body language speaks volumes. She truly doesn’t care anymore. “Maybe not. But there is the small matter of kidnapping and holding a hostage.”
He curses, the word echoing in the room.
He turns to leave, pausing at the door to give her one last hateful glare. I can’t stay silent anymore. “Hey, Todd.” He stops but keeps his back to us, his shoulders tense. “I suggest finding a good lawyer willing to represent you.”
With another muttered curse, he leaves. The front door slams, and Mandy collapses at my feet.
The air in the room suddenly feels lighter, as if his presence had been physically weighing it down.
A different tension builds between us now—the good kind.
It runs through my veins and I can’t take one more second not holding her.
“Please,” I gasp, the ropes still biting into my wrists.
“Oh, sorry.” She works at the knots with trembling fingers, muttering under her breath when they won’t immediately give. Finally, my hands are free and I pull her into my lap, ignoring the ache in my muscles.
We both start talking at once, our hands touching, exploring. My fingers trace the soft skin of her face, thread through her hair, run along her back. I can’t get enough of her. I murmur against her hair, “It’s been so long since I last saw you.”
She giggles, the sound light and welcome after all the tension. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours.”
“That’s way too long.” I pull her against my chest, breathing in the familiar strawberry scent of her shampoo.
My arms tighten around her, still trying to convince myself she’s really here, that we’re both safe.
I hinted I love her before with no response.
Well, I don’t care if she doesn’t love me back, because she’s going to know how I feel.
No hints. No vague suggestions dropped in a roundabout way. I love her. Every part of her.
“Mandy, you have to know this. I—”
“What happened?” She touches my cheek, her fingers gentle against my skin as she traces down my jaw. The tenderness in her touch makes my heart skip. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Our mouths are close enough that I can feel her breath on my lips.
Everything in me wants to forget conversation and close that small gap.
Kiss her for the next three hours and into the night.
Instead, I take a deep breath and answer.
“When I got home that night after dinner at the Birches, he was here. Waiting for me. Like a petulant child, he demanded the Blackbeard. I told him I didn’t have it.
He didn’t believe me.” My fingers brush her shoulder, then cup her cheek.
“And now I know that rich, beautiful painting is yours.”
She lowers her head, her hair falling forward. “Yeah, but that was a long time ago.”
“I am so sorry Todd did that to you. That I practically forced him on you for the event and on our date.” My voice catches on the words.
“I didn’t tell you”—she looks back at me, her eyes bright with unshed tears—“that it was Todd who stole my work was because of the event. I had to somehow pull it off. And...I didn’t want you to hurt him.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “It’s not because I didn’t trust you.”
The tightness in my chest eases. She trusts me. I find myself completely trusting her too. “I—”
“I feel terrible for dragging you into this. Into his madness. You could’ve been hurt. If I had told you everything about him, you would’ve been more prepared.”
“Sweetness.” My voice comes out low, husky. The nickname brings a smile to her face, softening the worry lines around her eyes. “I don’t care about that. It’s not important. Tell me about your studio.”
A shadow crosses her face, the smile fading. “It was terrible. I watched the whole thing go up in flames. My work. I was devastated.” Her voice catches. “But it’s okay. Yes, it’s been a nightmare, but I’m free.”
“What do you mean?” I ask softly, running my hand along her arm.
“All my Picasso-style paintings are now ash or close to it. I realized they were holding me back. A constant reminder of what I lost. It doesn’t matter now.” She swallows hard. “Thanks to you I found inspiration.”
I laugh, the sound echoing in the now-quiet room. “Trust me. No artist ever has said that to me.”
“Well, thanks to you. That night you took me swimming under the stars, I found my muse again. After that night I painted until the early hours of the morning for days.”
A cold fear grips me. “Were they in the studio?”
“Yes...but my ideas and my love for art can’t be burned down. Sure, they can be stolen, but new ideas come when we’re open to them. You can’t burn an idea. I’ll paint them again. Even better.”
“Did you use the tarps I purchased to cover them?” I ask, hoping something was saved.
She nods, shifting in my lap. “Yes. All that nice equipment and lighting, ruined.”
I shrug it off, already planning the replacement studio in my mind. “I’ll buy new lighting, and whether you like it or not, I’ll build you a new studio. Let me spoil you, Mandy, because I—”
“I ruined the event,” she confesses, her voice small. Her fingers play with the collar of my shirt. “I barely put in any effort. I should be fired.” She gasps, her body tensing. “You don’t know about Diana, do you?”
“What about her?”
“She’s on the run. Those sirens probably were for her.” Mandy shifts, settling more comfortably against me. “She and her consultant buddy have been tracking lost art that the Nazis stole. They’ve been giving the people who own these collections a chance to hand them over before—”
“Taking justice into their own hands.” The pieces click into place.
She nods, her hair brushing my chin. “Something like that. And...she sold the gallery. Pretty sure it will be a restaurant.”
My arms tighten around her. I would do anything for Mandy. My mind is already working through possibilities. “Serious question. Is the gallery something you still want to be part of?”
“Maybe. Just not a highfalutin’ one.” She traces patterns on my arm as she speaks. “I want more art classes for kids and adults. I do want famous artists that we can jazz it up for and make money. Maybe I’ll talk to Stephen about it.”
“Hmm.” I make a mental note to talk to Stephen about buying it from him. We can figure that out later, because the words I’ve been trying to say are sitting heavy in my chest, pressing to be released. She needs to hear them.
She starts talking again, her words coming faster.
“Mandy,” I say, my voice rough. “Quiet.”
She flashes me a sly smirk that makes my heart stutter.
I know right then I can’t wait to marry her and spend all night making love night after night.
I want to wake up with her, do art with her, do life with her.
I want to lift her up, support her in all the ways she hasn’t felt supported. I want to be her partner in all things.
If she’ll have me.
“What Seymour? What are you trying to say, darling?” Her fingers brush my cheek.
This time it’s me who chokes up, overwhelmed by the events of the past few days and the depth of my feelings for this woman.
“I love you. And this love fills every part of me. It lifts me up. It makes me fly. It makes me want to move mountains for you. It’s not just a passing fling.
It’s more and deeper than what I’ve ever felt before.
I want to spend every moment making you happy.
I love your spirit and your energy. I love kissing you.
I love surprising you with grilled cheese sandwiches. I—”
“Promise?” Her eyes sparkle with mischief.
“What?”
“To always surprise me with grilled cheese?” she teases, her fingers playing with my hair.
“Oh yes, I promise.” The ache in my muscles fade against the warmth of her smile.
“I love you, too. Forever and always.” She presses a soft kiss to my jaw. “Now let’s get out of here.”
I burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the walls. “Whenever you want.” I shift uncomfortably. “How about we get this duct tape off my feet, first?”
Her answering laugh fills the room, chasing away the last shadows of the evening’s darkness. As she bends to help me with the tape, I know that whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.