I really wanted to send a picture of the ladies at cards to Brynne, but I wouldn’t. She was off enjoying the start of her honeymoon and I had no business distracting her with work right now. Also, I wasn’t ready to disclose exactly where I was or what I was doing there. Because I’d have to explain who I was with, and it would just invite a lot of questions I didn’t want to answer right now. Hell, I probably didn’t even know the answers to their questions anyway.

What in the world are you doing here?

I grimaced at the thought of having to face Ben once I got back to London. He was going to give me hell for sure about Ivan, and I knew he wouldn’t let it go until he got some details from me either. That was gonna be fun. Not.

So, I made a snap decision. It would be best to gain a better idea of the collection as a whole first, before going public with it. Yes. That made the most logical sense. I roved my eyes longingly over the ladies once more and just enjoyed its beauty for a moment. Utter brilliance and uniquely witty in subject matter, as only Tristan Mallerton could pull off and make it look effortless. People would go nuts when they got a glimpse of this painting. A shiver came over me at the magnitude of just this one discovery. I still couldn’t really grasp the entirety of what I was looking at with my own eyes.

A powerful feeling came over my body and held me in place as if my boots were fitted with lead weights. I stood still, unable to take a single step. I could only move my eyes around the room and try to understand the vast collection of priceless works.

Interpretation with paint upon canvas… telling story, after story, after story.

Because every painting had a story. I knew I needed to learn as much as possible about the story each painting had locked inside it. I knew something else too.

More Mallerton’s had yet to be revealed.

They were here at Donadea waiting patiently for me to find them.

I knew it with every fiber of my being.

Chapter 7

IVAN

Gabrielle was still at it when I came back two hours later. The only difference was she’d worked her way to the other side of the room from when I’d left her. “You were right, Ivan,” she said dreamily while looking up at the dog painting I’d mentioned to her earlier.

“Of course, I was right,” I said, not caring I had no idea at all what she meant. She was pleased and that was good enough for me. I came up behind her and put my hands over her shoulders, unable to keep them to myself a moment longer. She leaned back into me and tilted her head, giving me access in a perfect gesture, letting me know she wanted my touch. It was useless for me to try to resist her, so I didn’t even consider it. Instead, I spent the next minute running my lips over the delicious curve of her neck and enjoying her response to my efforts. My curiosity eventually got the better of me though. “What was I right about?”