The Mistress

“They’re my father’s,” he said quietly. “What does this mean?”

“Technically, it makes the whole art theft a prank. As far as the police are concerned, it’s over. What really happened and why, we’ll never know. No one’s talking. One of our inspectors got a tip that Stanislas had them onboard, but we couldn’t get a warrant based on that, and we can’t prove it. I think it was a bogus tip. Whoever took them may have figured the whole thing was too hot and got scared, so they put them back. I think you got lucky, Mr. Luca,” he said seriously.

“So do I,” Theo said, smiling broadly, shook the inspector’s hand, and thanked him for their hard work. An army of people had been working on it. And now the paintings had been returned. It seemed like a miracle to him, and he knew it would to his mother.

He called her and told her the good news, and an hour later Athena got a call too.

“You don’t need a warrant,” the inspector told her.

“The hell I don’t. They’re on the boat.”

“Not anymore, if they ever were. All twelve of them are in their right places at the restaurant. Someone tasered and drugged the two guards, and put everything back sometime last night. Same MO—they disabled the alarm and the cameras. But all’s well that ends well. We’re done. Good work.” She couldn’t tell if he meant it or was making fun of her, and she was shocked. What the hell did it mean? She wondered if Stanislas suspected Natasha had talked, or decided that prison wasn’t worth it, if he got caught. She hoped that Natasha hadn’t said anything, and confessed, and put herself at risk. But Athena had no way of contacting her safely, and knew better than to try.

It was all over the news by that afternoon, and Natasha saw it too on TV on the boat. It was totally strange. She wondered if that was the tender she heard leaving the night before. Or if someone had warned him. But at least the Lucas had their paintings back. She was happy for them, and wondered why Vladimir had returned them. She had no idea what had changed his mind. Or had he intended to return them all along?

Vladimir made love to her that afternoon, and then told her they were going out to dinner at eight o’clock. He didn’t tell her where and said it was a surprise. She put on a new dress that he had bought her at Dior in January—and she hadn’t worn it yet since it had arrived only a few weeks before. She looked exquisite as she stepped into the tender, and he smiled at her and told her she had never looked more beautiful and he loved the dress.

He got out of the tender first and stood watching her as they handed her out of the boat, and she put on her shoes on the quai. The Rolls was waiting for them, and as they walked toward it, he stopped and looked down at her with an expression she’d never seen before. His eyes were like ice, but his face was a mask of regret.

“It’s over, Natasha. I know what you saw. I don’t know if you told that woman, but I can’t take the chance. I’m not going to prison for you, or anyone. He should have sold me the painting—it would have been simpler for everyone. But I can’t trust you anymore. I have the feeling that you said something, but it’s just a guess. I’ll never know for sure. You have a month in the apartment in Paris. I’ll send your clothes from the boat there.” She was staring at him in disbelief as he said it. It was over, just like that, after eight years, without a look back. “You can have all your clothes and jewelry. You’ll get a good price for them if you sell them. And you can have whatever is in your bank account. Be out of the apartment by the end of July. I’m going to sell it. You’re a beautiful girl, Natasha. You’ll be fine.” And then he added softly, “I’m going to miss you. The plane is waiting for you at the airport.” And with that he walked back to the tender with his head down, as she stood watching him go. She wanted to run after him, to stop him, and tell him she loved him, but she didn’t know if she did anymore. She couldn’t respect him after what he’d done.

He had saved her before, and now he had thrown her away, to survive on her own. Without even knowing for certain if she’d betrayed him, he was severing all ties with her to protect himself. He was taking no risks. She wasn’t worth it to him. She watched the tender pull away from the dock and go back to the boat with him on it. He never looked back at her. And she didn’t make a sound. She got into the Rolls with tears running down her cheeks and sat staring out the window as they drove to the airport. She was alone in the world, with no one to protect her or take care of her, for the first time in years, and as terrifying as it was, she knew he was right. She would be fine.

And as Vladimir stood on the deck, thinking about her, he had no regrets. He couldn’t risk everything he’d built for a woman, or for anyone. He still wondered if she had some kind of tie to Theo Luca, or if she had betrayed him to the police. He’d never know now. It didn’t matter. The problem was solved. He had taught Luca a lesson. And he would miss Natasha. But not for long. And by the time he went to his cabin after dinner, her belongings had been packed, and all signs of her were gone.





Chapter 13