Chapter 30
Thirty
Giancarlo
“I thought we were family, Giano! How could you keep something like this from me?”
My expression may have been neutral, but my heart shattered as I watched Franz pace the empty office la polizia had set us up in while we waited for my lawyers to arrive—in lieu of a holding cell.
Because they wouldn’t dare.
What the Italian authorities also hadn’t attempted was any sort of interrogation, despite Lowry’s courtesy warning.
This may have been because Franz demanded my “letter of rights” the instant we walked into the building—which still hadn’t been delivered—but I also suspected my family name had something to do with it.
The “family” name that may no longer protect me.
I knew confessing my origins to the press today would be risky, especially as it might call into question my right to sell my mother’s collection, but if there was one thing I’d learned from the late Angelica Luxford, it was to always control the narrative.
“You are the closest thing I have to family, Franz,” I calmly replied to the man I was still lying to. “But this secret was… complicated.”
To say the least.
Franz reached up, as if to adjust his nonexistent fedora, before letting his hand fall limply at his side.
“I assume your mother was to blame?” he sighed heavily, collapsing into the chair across the desk I was seated at, and I had to laugh at how well he knew exactly what, and who, I’d always been up against.
As much as he could know…
“Actually, my paternal grandparents were,” I replied, relieved to finally talk about it, despite the circumstances and despite me initially hoping to tell Rowen first. “They decreed that if my mother couldn’t produce an heir to carry on the family name, my father would be expected to find a more suitable wife. ”
Franz’s mouth fell open in shock. “I’m sorry? What… what world did they think they were living in?!”
“Theirs.” I laughed sadly. “They fully believed being a Luxford meant they could orchestrate whatever reality they wanted. Unfortunately for them, my father inherited that same mindset, and so he figured out a way to beat them at their own game.”
“With a secret adoption…” Franz murmured, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, clasping his hands and giving me his undivided attention. “And they never found out while they were alive?”
“No.” I shook my head. “St. Anthony’s doubled as a home for unwed teen mothers at the time, and as soon as my parents were informed they had a baby on reserve, so to speak, a pregnancy was staged to line up with the birth.”
Pausing, I vaguely wondered if Rowen was the product of similar circumstances before realizing it didn’t matter either way.
It doesn’t change how I feel about him.
I’d hoped my bold confession might show him how similar we were, despite our differences in luck and circumstances, but I hadn’t received a single call or message—not even via our encrypted app—since the news broke.
What did you expect, Giano?
You pushed Rowen away after he trusted you enough to—
I closed my eyes and blew out a steadying breath, willing myself to refocus on telling Franz what he deserved to know.
One relationship repair at a time.
“My grandparents never found out,” I continued, determined to tell him everything I could. “And when my father died before them, my mother held on to her secret even tighter, knowing discovery could mean losing everything.”
Franz nodded grimly. “I know first-hand how unyielding your mother was when expected to do anything other than what she’d already decided to do.” Then he huffed a laugh. “And I often wondered how someone like you ended up as a Luxford…”
We simply stared at each other for a moment. “Well,” I replied. “Now you know.”
Now everyone knows.
It remained to be seen how this revelation would affect New York society’s acceptance of me, but—aside from my unyielding determination to sell Mother’s art—I found the pressure to “fit in” no longer mattered to me.
Not nearly as much as getting Rowen back by my side where he belongs.
“Well, if your goal was to distract the masses from these bullshit allegations, I’d say you succeeded.” Franz sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Personally, I can’t imagine how it felt carrying this secret all this time.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, bracing myself for what I knew his reaction would be. “It wasn’t that long actually… I only found out a year or so ago—”
“EXCUSE ME?!” Franz shouted, leaping from his chair so suddenly, it nearly toppled to the floor. “Your mother didn’t tell you that you were adopted until you were in your thirties?”
I grimaced, knowing what I was about to share would enrage him even more. “My mother didn’t tell me so much as admit to it when confronted. I found out entirely by accident when I went to the doctor to look into becoming a bone marrow donor for her lymphoma…”
“Oh, Giano…” Franz brought a hand to his mouth, looking close to tears. “That’s how you found out?”
“Yes,” I gritted out, bitterness rising like bile in my throat. “Not only was I not a match, but we didn’t even share the same DNA.”
“Oh, my God… I know you’re not a hugger, but… Fuck, Giano.” Franz sniffed and wiped his eyes, his earlier disappointment forgotten. “I am so incredibly sorry…”
As am I.
I smiled tightly, knowing there was only one man’s arms I wished I could fall into.
“While I was devastated at the time, I’m grateful it happened.
After my initial anger faded, it resulted in some uncharacteristically candid conversations with my mother.
By the time she passed… I wouldn’t say I’d forgiven her, but I certainly had a better understanding of her—of why she was the way she was.
Because, as you know, I’ve also been pressured to hide parts of myself… for family.”
I spat the word with the same vitriol my mother had all those years ago, in the same breath she’d told me what I would be expected to do—and what was expected to stay hidden—to keep up appearances.
None of that matters anymore.
I’m the only Luxford left.
Franz sighed again and returned to his seat.
“I do know, and I hope—after the dust settles—that you finally feel comfortable being with whoever you want. Openly, if you choose.” He paused, looking torn on whether he should say more.
“But, as your family, I wish you weren’t choosing someone quite so… incriminating.”
“Careful, Franz,” I growled. “Family or not, I will not allow you to speak ill of who I’m choosing to be with.”
Who I would choose every day of my life if given the chance.
“Giano.” He straightened, going into “older brother” mode.
“I know we are most likely here because I shared my unfounded suspicions with the wrong person, but…” He glanced at the open doorway before leaning closer and lowering his voice.
“How can you not humor it as a possibility that he might be behind this? He’s… he’s an art thief for goodness’ sake.”
I leveled Franz with a warning look, hoping he had enough sense in his head to back off. “Even if he was behind this, it wouldn’t have been his idea.”
And I will protect Rowen with every inch of power I have left.
Franz’s brow furrowed, but the longer he frantically searched my face, the more his confusion turned to shock and dismay.
This is what you get for digging.
“No…” he finally whispered, almost pleadingly. “Please don’t tell me—”
“Signores?”
We both turned to find a nervous clerk knocking softly on the doorframe as they peered around it. “A representative from Signor Luxford’s legal counsel is here to collect you.”
Collect me?
I glanced down at my watch. While it was nearing when I expected Decatur’s “attorney army” to land in Florence, it would have taken a miracle for them to arrive at the police station by this time.
And why would Bob send a single “representative” instead of collecting me himself—
“Greetings! Dan Cooper, junior attorney for Decatur, Trent, and Fuller Associates at your service with bribe money and a getaway car.”
The world seemed to slow as I took in the well-dressed man sauntering through the doorway with the same easy confidence I’d come to cherish from the one person I couldn’t stop thinking about.
Rowen?
It looked like Rowen, but as if I was viewing him through the lens of a different universe. The height, build, and swagger was the same, but this man had no freckles, was wearing thick-rimmed glasses over brown eyes, and—to my absolute horror—had black hair.
Please tell me he didn’t dye his hair.
“Not who you were expecting, I see,” he chuckled before handing both of us business cards with the words “Dan Cooper, Junior Attorney, Decatur, Trent, and Fuller Associates” plainly printed on the surface.
“Understandable. I’m so new, they haven’t even added my photo to the staff page of the website yet! ”
Why would he be on the website at all?
That’s when he grinned, revealing that gap in his teeth I also couldn’t stop thinking about, and my bewilderment turned to fury.
Why. Are. You. Here?
I’d made it crystal clear I didn’t want him anywhere near this police station—or in any situation where he could be blamed and taken away from me forever.
I can’t lose you.
As if instinctively reading all of this and more on my face, his expression softened. “C’mon, Mr. Luxford. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”
I WAS TRYING TO KEEP YOU SAFE!!!
Franz was apparently too dumbfounded to speak—and I didn’t trust myself to—and the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to the fugitive in our midst. So we had no choice but to follow “Dan Cooper” out of our makeshift holding cell, past multiple unsuspecting polizia, and toward the exit.
“This way!” he cheerfully called over his shoulder, easefully leading us through multiple twists and turns—as if he had the entire station mapped out. “We’ll be sneaking out through the back to avoid the paparazzi…”
I bit the side of my mouth so hard, I tasted blood as I watched him continue on without a care in the world, swinging a briefcase by his side that was most likely empty—but could have just as easily been full of vintage ransom money.
Or something far worse.
I don’t even want to know…
There was one question burning on my tongue, but I had to wait until Franz and I were loaded into the back of our “getaway car” before it erupted from my mouth.
“Is that hair color permanent?!”
Rowen turned around from the passenger seat, grinning wide once again. “What’s the matter, Moneybags? You’re not interested in some D.B. Cooper role-play in the bedroom?”
That didn’t answer my question.
“Where and when did you have these printed?” Franz weakly murmured beside me, turning the business card over in his shaking hands, no doubt still absorbing the bombshell I’d vaguely hinted at. “Where would you have found enough money to bribe la polizia—”
“Hello to you too, pretty boy!” Mick shouted from the driver’s seat as he swerved into traffic and slammed his foot down on the gas. “What am I, chopped liver?”
“Is that my hat?” Franz huffed, reaching forward. “I’ll take that back now.”
“Oh, no you won’t!” Mick replied, dodging his hand as Rowen cackled. “Hours of collection are midnight to 6:00 a.m., Firenze time. Location: My bed.”
What is happening right now…?
A sudden, more pressing question rose to the top of the growing pile. “Rowen. Does anyone from the real Decatur, Trent, and Fuller Associates know you’ve intercepted them?”
“Oh! Thanks for the reminder… Daddy Pinstripes?” He twisted in his seat to face Franz.
“Would you be a dear and please send an email to the attorney army? Tell them to meet us at the Tivoli Palazzo Gaddi Hotel tonight at eight. By then, we should have everything taken care of to discuss next steps.”
“What. Did. You. Do. Rowen?” I gritted out, the cocktail of overwhelming relief at seeing him again and concern for his wellbeing now boiling over into something anger-shaped. “Why couldn’t you just wait for my attorneys to arrive? This is what I pay them to do!”
Rowen Quincy, master art thief, undeniable love of my life, and current reason for my rising blood pressure smiled serenely.
“Trust me, baby,” he cooed, making me melt despite my best efforts. “With the way things are about to go down,” he paused to wink lecherously. “You’ll wanna let the professionals handle it from here on out.”