Page 113 of Burning Caine

“I’d hoped you were wrong.”

“I punched the asshole. No one does that to my Sam.”

“Good for you,” said Cass.

Chapter 44

Antonio

Ifrozeoutsidethefront door to the office, my heart unsure whether it should accelerate or just surrender and stop beating. Samantha stood on the other side of the large window, speaking with Sofia. Samantha’s face was tense; she was still so angry.

But she was here. She hadn’t sent Lucy alone. I had one more opportunity to see her before I left. Before I moved a half a world away from her. No chances to make it up to her, to win her back, to see her anywhere. This would be it. I had found the copyist who had created the fake version ofLes amoureux dans le ciel, so perhaps she could forgive me? Not likely, though.

I balanced two trays of coffee from Russo’s, the bag of cornetti hanging from my elbow. When I reached for the door, Lucy saw me and opened it. She was always so kind and cheerful, full of smiles.

“Wow, what happened to you?” She craned her neck to get a look at the side of my face.

It was still tender and the bruise dark enough to get attention. Angelo had laughed it must have been over a woman, and I told him he should have seen the other guy. Except the other guy was fine. He had taken her home. The night she should have been with me.

Samantha turned, and our eyes locked. Dark circles clung under her jade-green eyes, and the corners of her mouth were hard. Not the faintest of smiles for me.

“Lucy,” she snapped.

Her protégé moved to her side abruptly. “We’re here to pick up the burned painting and your report.”

“I brought coffee and pastries for our meeting.” My voice was weak, and I didn’t step further into the office.

“Thanks!” Lucy took the coffees to Sofia’s desk, and my sister took the bag. Samantha would have to deal with me now.

We stared at each other, the same conversation rolling between us as on Saturday.

Liar.

Sorry.

Honesty and trust.

Forgive me.

Her jaw flexed several times and she blinked slowly. “Quite the bruise.”

“It was the least I deserved.”

Sofia and Lucy stopped talking and looked at each other, an awkward silence blanketing the room.

“The painting?” she said through gritted teeth.

I took a shaky breath and approached her. I reached for her hand, hoping her resolve was weak. I tried to push her boundary one more time, but she withdrew it too quickly.

“Lucy, I’ve got this. Stay here.” She watched me like she expected further deception at every move. “Let’s go.”

The painting’s case lay closed on my desk. We signed the paperwork in silence, and I slid it into the thick envelope with my report.

“So, I’ve been wondering.” Her voice was so cold. “Are you sure the one at your parents’ house is the real one?”

I nodded slowly.

“You authenticated it, didn’t you?”