Chapter 11
407words
"One of many," Felix said grimly. He ran a hand through his hair, momentarily dropping his composed façade. "Alexander has been making increasingly questionable investments lately. These paintings were purchased through a dealer named Claude Rousseau."
I kept my expression carefully blank at the name. "And you think he was deliberately defrauded?"
"I think..." Felix paused, choosing his words carefully. "I think my cousin's judgment becomes impaired around certain people."
"The woman in the painting," I said. Not a question.
Felix's gaze sharpened. "You noticed."
"It's my job to notice details." I turned back to the paintings. "She's beautiful."
"Vivienne Sinclair," Felix said, watching my reaction closely. "Alexander's... complicated past."
My heart hammered against my ribs. I forced myself to breathe normally, to keep my hands steady as I packed away my equipment.
"I'll need to prepare a detailed report," I said. "Something that would stand up in court if you decide to pursue legal action against the dealer."
Felix nodded, his eyes never leaving my face. "How long?"
"A few days. I'd like to take samples back to my lab for further analysis."
"Of course." He hesitated, then added, "There's a charity auction at the Museum of Fine Arts tomorrow night. The foundation has a table. Would you join us?"
I looked up, surprised. "Is that necessary for the authentication work?"
"No," he admitted, a hint of a smile softening his features. "But Alexander will be there. With Vivienne. I thought you might want to observe them... for context."
My pulse quickened. Was this a test? Did he suspect my motives?
"That would be helpful," I said carefully. "For the report."
"I'll send a car at seven." Felix moved toward the door, then paused. "Wear something memorable. First impressions matter with people like them."
As the elevator descended, I leaned against the wall, mind racing. Felix was offering me exactly what I needed—direct access to Alexander and Vivienne—but why? What wasn't he telling me?
The doors opened to the private hallway. Felix walked me to the exit, his hand hovering near the small of my back without quite touching me.
"Until tomorrow, Lyra," he said, his voice dropping to that resonant lower register that seemed to vibrate through my chest.
I nodded and stepped out into the afternoon sunlight, blinking against its sudden brightness. Only when I was halfway down the block did I realize I was trembling.
