Page 109 of Burning Caine

I lost track of time as I wallowed until there was a light knock on the door.

“Are you alright, dear?”

“One sec.” I grabbed some tissue to blot at my eyes, did a quick check in the mirror to tidy my make-up, and opened the door. Valentina.

“I told Dom surprising him was a stupid idea. I told him, Antonio is bringing the first girl home to meet us in years, you don’t tell him out of the blue he’ll be leaving her for four months.”

I pressed my lips together tightly, trying to stem a fresh flow of tears. Then she stepped in and hugged me tightly.

“I wanted to make a good impression,” I whimpered as she rubbed my back gently.

She pulled away, her hands on my shoulders. “And you did, Samantha. All I needed to see was the look on his face whenever you were near him.”

“I’m sorry for—”

“No apologies. I remember what young love is like.” She stroked my cheek and smiled warmly. “Come, let’s go back for dessert. He’s worried about you.”

“Thanks.”

We walked out together, into the hallway lined with paintings I’d been too distraught to look at on my way past earlier. The one immediately across from the bathroom was Botticelli’sVenus. Next to it was Vermeer’sGirl with a Pearl Earring, and on the other side, da Vinci’sLady with an Ermine.

She paused and turned to me when I didn’t keep step with her.

“Valentina.” I counted nine classics of the Old Masters. “Antonio told me his best copies all hang together in your house.”

“He told me you had a good eye. Yes, these are his. Some painted from books, others while in museums.” She gestured to the obvious place where a tenth should be hanging. “He’s written about thirty letters to the Louvre to convince them to let him do theMona Lisa, but they don’t let any of their copyists near her.”

There was something off aboutVenus. “She has your eyes.”

“He made each of them as a gift to me.” She smiled proudly, the resemblance deepening. “This one was the first, but I told him not to ruin their perfection by putting me in their faces. So instead—” She pointed to a line in theGirl’s turban. “—he hides my name in them.”

“That’s beautiful.” I looked closer at each one, admiring his talent, and trying to find the hidden name in each.

She tilted her head slightly. “Samantha, Dom will kill me for this, but would you like to see our private collection?”

I gasped, which she took for a yes.

“He says it’s for family only, but I have a feeling you’re close enough.” She led me to a stairway at the end of the hall. “But it’s private, no word to anyone on what we own.”

“Absolutely!” I was over the moon for the opportunity to see their private collection. But, ‘close enough’ to family? What did that mean?

She opened a door at the top of the stairs, into a room darkened by heavy curtains. She flicked on the light to illuminate an octagonal room with a small round couch in the middle. She directed me to the right, to a painting I didn’t recognize, but immediately knew the artist.

“Toulouse-Lautrec?” I named the famed French painter, who loved his dancing girls at the Moulin Rouge.

She looked at me, impressed. “Yes, very good!”

“Original?” Stupid question. I knew that.

“Yes, all of these are original. All purchased anonymously for our family only. They are special to us.”

I followed the curve of the room to the next, a small framed piece of yellowed parchment with ink drawings. I gasped. “This isn’t a set of da Vinci sketches, is it?”

She looked closer. “How did you pick that out?”

“It’s his style, it’s distinctive. And, to be honest, I assumed if it was here, it was something extraordinary.”

I turned to look at her, to smile, to make things right with Antonio’s mother. She smiled back, as we shared a moment, art lover to art lover.