style="font-size:15px;"> Tobias’s fingers were resting on my file. “Thank you, Adley. I believe we’re done here.” He closed it and pushed to his feet.
Words were exchanged between him and Adley. A shake of hands. A promise to be in touch.
Tobias lowered his head, tucked his hands into his pockets and left the room without looking at me. Logan threw me a thin smile and followed him out.
I stood frozen, regretting the sudden delivery of my outburst as I watched them leave, realizing it was too late to salvage the meeting.
I spun to face Adley. “Sir, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“You’re going to have to learn to keep a lid on your emotions, Zara.”
“Yes, of course.” I plopped back down in my seat.
Had I just blown my career on my first day? Yes, I bloody well had.
Adley’s attention went from the door to where Logan and Tobias had just exited and moved swiftly over to the Pollock, his attention lingering there. “Well done.”
I blinked my confusion.
Adley gestured to the painting. “Most people assume they’re all fakes. They don’t see beyond the other scoundrels hanging around them. They assume if one is fake, then they all are.”
Startled, I sat back.
“Our client requested a demonstration of your skills. I made a call.”
I wondered how much this had cost the firm. The security detail alone would amount to thousands. It had to be the kind of investment that would pay off when it nabbed a high-paying client. Adley stared in admiration at the painting and I stared at him, marveling at his faith in me to pull off this feat.
“They left in an awful hurry,” I muttered.
He shrugged. “Looks like we’re officially lending you to Wilder.”
My breath caught and my fingernails dug into the armrests.
“He’s requested an exclusive consultation,” he added.
“He asked for me personally?”
But Adley was already on the phone and chatting with a curator about having that Pollock they’d borrowed just this morning returned to the National Gallery.
My Range Rover handled the off-road terrain well.
Tobias Wilder’s Oxfordshire estate was tucked away in the middle of nowhere, though thanks to my navigational skills I was right on time. This place was not on the map, nor were the dusty tree-lined lanes that led me here.
And at 7:00 p.m. I’d not had the advantage of daylight.
There came a thrill of intrigue at seeing Tobias again, and I knew that the secret painting he wanted me to authenticate would also reveal more about him. As would seeing the inside of his home.
It’d taken me over two hours to drive from the city, and it felt good to stretch my legs and ease the stiffness from my limbs as I’d made my way up the driveway toward his door. The only way I’d known I was in the right place was that I saw a helicopter perched on the roof.
You’ll see it from the driveway, Logan’s instructions via email had said. Though she’d not mentioned the driveway went on for three miles.
And as most Brits didn’t have sleek-looking helicopters on their roofs or a line of silver Jaguars parked outside their multimillion-dollar houses, I knew this was it. Something told me Tobias liked toys. The expensive kind.
My modest flat was a shoe box compared to this place. My bedroom looked like a hurricane had swept through the place. I’d changed my outfit so many times and even now doubted this was the right choice. Black slacks, a white chiffon blouse, Ralph Lauren heels. I’d treated myself to a trip to my local salon for a professional blow-dry and now my unruly locks were shiny curls tumbling down my shoulders, and I might have spent a little longer than usual on my makeup.
I’d left my parka in the car.
The last time I’d seen Mr. Wilder was at the meeting yesterday morning. He apparently needed me in the field immediately. I was curious why time was such a factor. The art world moved at a snail’s pace right up until a painting went to auction. Then all hell broke loose with bidders scrambling to release funds so they could possess that certain piece they’d been waiting to come onto the market. Sometimes for years.
I knocked several times on the front door. With no answer I took the liberty of heading on in. There was sure to be security to signal my arrival.
Tobias’s foyer had a minimalist’s opulence.
Modern, if not futuristic, with chrome-lined trimmings and stark white marble tiles and yet vaguely homey in a high-tech kind of way.
“Hello!” I called out again.
My voice echoed, my fingers tense from holding my phone too tightly. I went to call out again—
A blur of movement shimmered in the far corner.
The petite geisha was dressed in the traditional kimono and moved swiftly toward me, her head bowed, her lips marked with a red kiss of lipstick, her movement serene as she made her way into the center. Her black hair was rolled into several elaborate buns and her striking features were highlighted by her pure white foundation.
Why was I not surprised that Tobias had a pretty woman working for him? She came closer, her hands held together in greeting and her fingers eerily pale.
“I’m Zara. I’m expected by Mr. Wilder?” I gave a quick “I hope so or that would be awkward” smile.
She raised her line of sight and stared at me. “Yo¯koso.” Unease rose in my chest; a sense something was wrong. She vanished.
I staggered back, my handbag slipping from my grip and my iPhone joining it on the marble with a loud crack as it bounced at my feet.
My throat constricted with fear.
Blinking around the foyer, all air gone from my lungs, heart racing, my brain telling me to run and yet my legs too weak to respond.
The geisha girl was back before me. Right there. Her head respectfully bowed, her gaze rose to meet mine, her line of sight exact. And yet—
“Yo¯koso.” She bowed low.
These impossible seconds unfolded like a cruel nightmare. Her fading image flickered back into focus.
“What the fuck...” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“She’s a bit glitchy.” A male voice. My stare shot toward it.
Tobias Wilder stood at the top of the stairs with his hands tucked casually inside his trouser pockets, his thoughtful frown
