Page 76 of Chasing Caine
“Has the lidocaine kicked in yet? Can I put the bandage on?” He pressed his palm against my ankle, the pain muted. “I can give you some crutches, as well.”
Crutches. Great. At least I wouldn’t need to be carried everywhere. “Go for it.”
Iswungintothelounge area we’d seen on the way in, balanced on the crutches. Dr. Ivan’s hand rested on my back, pointing out rug edges, door frames, and anything I could trip over, as though I’d never been injured before. Bodyguard Jason followed us.
Floor to ceiling windows decorated two sides of the room, which likely folded open to expose the entire space to the outside. A short bar obscured a portion of the glass wall. Behind it, a man in the crew uniform mixed a drink in a stainless shaker.
“Samantha!” Antonio rushed to my side, one hand out like he didn’t know where to touch me, the other carrying a cut-crystal glass of some amber liquid. He and Pasquale had been standing in front of a painting with a white field and broad swipe of black paint through the middle. “You look far better. The color’s returned to your lovely cheeks.”
“She’s a strong woman,” said Dr. Ivan, everyone reverting to Italian.
Antonio glared, evaluating him from head to toe and back up again. Antonio’s chest puffed up, his lip curled. With a clearer head, I recognized the five-million scale of his jealousy Mario told me about at the club. Antonio inserted himself between the doctor and me. “We were discussing this painting which was damaged recently.”
“Champagne cork,” chuckled Pasquale, gesturing with his glass to the black and white piece they’d been in front of.
I made my way over on the crutches, inspecting the damage.
“Samantha’s an insurance adjuster,” said Antonio, the pride audible in his voice. “With a remarkable eye for art claims.”
“Colors are straightforward, tear is jagged, impasto to match…” I glanced at Antonio. “Doesn’t look difficult. Few days to fix?”
He nodded. “There’s another piece in the salon showing some distortion from the sea air. We discussed repairs, plus moving it to the library, which has better climate controls.”
Pasquale shook his head. “I had the yacht designed for the collections, but it appears some rooms were missed.”
Despite seeing the paintings through the windows earlier, I hadn’t expected an actual art lover. “Did you choose the boat’s name, Mr. Fiori?Five Sunflowers?”
He put up a hand. “Pasquale, please. And I did. It’s named after Van Gogh’s lost sunflower painting.”
“Destroyed during the Second World War,” said Antonio, before I could. Van Gogh had painted many in his Sunflowers series—starting with single loose flowers on a table and moving to vases with a dozen and more flowers—and that was the only one lost.
I stifled a gasp.
Like the lost yellow flowers from the Casa di Marte.
No matter how comfortable I’d been with the doctor, the twisting in my stomach returned.
The sun setting behind the island caught my attention, beams of oranges and pinks filling the sky. It was getting late, and we were due back hours ago. “Have you called Mario? He’s probably worried.”
Antonio nodded. “I let him know we’ll be later than expected.”
“We should still get home, though.” I didn’t want to be there anymore.
Pasquale gestured to the bartender. “My wife will be here any moment, and I’d be honored if you stayed to eat. Antipasti, if not a full meal?”
“A generous offer, but Samantha’s correct. We should go.” He placed his tumbler on a nearby table and rubbed a hand along my upper arm. “You’re feeling better?”
Dr. Ivan piped up. “It’s a sprain or just a twist. Keep it elevated with ice.”
Antonio’s gaze fell to my foot. “This is not elevated. Nor does it have ice.”
I forced a smile at the doctor. “He gave me a shot. It helped with the pain, but yes, I should get off it for the evening.”
“More than the evening,” scolded Antonio.
Pasquale pointed to Jason. “Fly them to the mainland.”
Jason nodded and left without a word.