Lord Jesus Christ. I was no numbers expert, but I knew the value of Donadea’s art collection had to be in the hundreds of millions of pounds just based on the few paintings I’d been able to identify in a day. There were others I’d only glanced at but knew needed my focused attention. Older works from the seventeenth century looking a whole lot like Dutch masters, and even some Renaissance era paintings here and there on the walls of Donadea. A painting of Leda and the Swan had particularly caught my eye. When I first saw it, the hair on the back of my neck stood right up—because it appeared really fucking authentic and eerily… Michelangelo-ish. I’d been too scared to even go there in my mind, because if it were his then I was in way above my pay grade here. Even with the fortune Ivan was paying me. If he had original paintings by Michelangelo, and Pieter Bruegel-the-Elder, and Vermeer in addition to the Mallerton works, the value of his collection would be well over a billion pounds. One percent of a billion was ten million pounds.

Oh. My. God.

That was if he sold the paintings. Which from the wording of this contract seemed like his intended goal? Smart really. Paintings of this value belonged in a museum where they could be secured and shared with the world. The security level here was not sufficient for this collection as it stood. Not even close.

If anyone knew about the art being here at Donadea at all.

But it was especially clear the art world didn’t know, though. Hordes of media and speculators would be trying to push their way into Donadea if they even suspected it was here. Or attempts to steal it would have been made by now… Rather terrifying to think in either of those scenarios. I needed to tell Ivan in broad strokes what he was sitting on.

Ergo the reason for the non-disclosure agreement, which was all the more important of the two contracts, in my opinion. Nobody could know what I’d found here. Not yet and maybe not for a long time to come. The reason I was here, and the art I had to catalog was going to be on secret squirrel duty. As I read over the NDA further, it covered “any works of historic or artistic value discovered at the Donadea-Rothvale property, the location and contents of aforementioned works to be held in such confidence as to be secret, revealed only with permission from, and at such time of the owner’s choosing, Mr. Ivan G. Everley, Lord Rothvale XIII.” Further down in the agreement, there was also wordage which covered any private relationship I might undertake with him here or in London, “as exclusive between Gabrielle Hargreave and Ivan Everley, with knowledge of such relationship limited, for security purposes, to family only; friends on individual approval in advance by Ivan Everley.”

There would be no contact whatsoever with the press. “No formal or informal interviews granted to an individual, an affiliated group, or any media organization without the prior approval by both parties.” And my favorite bullet statement in the whole thing: “No sharing publicly or otherwise of any knowledge of governmental business of the United Kingdom which might be revealed incidentally due to proximity to cabinet minister, The Secretary of Culture, Olympics, Media and Sport, The Lord Rothvale.” So, any government secrets I might overhear from Ivan had to go with me to my grave. Well, oh-kay then. Sounded about right for my trip to Isthisforrealsville with a layover at Thisisnotadrill along the way—just to make sure I got the message loud and clear. Good God.