“No need for audio. I much prefer this tour. You are an excellent guide.”
“As you may know, as a private owner of a Monet, Impressionism was born in the mid-eighteen hundreds. While the public often believes the origin was Paris, the birthplace was actually—”
“Normandy,” he interjected.
“Yes, very good, Mr. Christianson. Monet was one of the first painters to embrace the free-thinking style of Impressionism. He had a home there. You can still tour it to this very day. He was inspired by his surroundings. The shore. The cliffs. The sea. The flowers in his own yard. All inspiration. You can see it in his paintings.” Waverly smiled. “Of course, he spent time in Paris as well. Had shown there. One of his very first critically acclaimed pieces, the model—”
“Camille. The Woman in a Green Dress.”
“Yes.” She glanced to Viktor, who studied the artwork, finding it interesting he knew the name of the painting. But of course, he owned an original so most likely had studied the artist. “She modeled in many of his paintings. I’m afraid she had quite a rough go of things. As did he. Although he did become more prosperous later in life. So many of his pieces were an expression of what he saw, the sea, his gardens. If I’m boring you, please, I can stop. It just occurred to me you know about the artist who created your painting.”
“I knew him well,” Viktor mused, “but please continue. I enjoy hearing you speak about art. Tell me, do you keep art around you when you sleep?”
“Um, excuse me, what?” She stifled her laughter.
“I just imagine your home is filled with art. I can hear the love in your voice as you speak.” He gave a closed smile that didn’t offer a hint of impropriety.
“Well, yes, I keep art in my home. Of course, most of the pieces are from local artists. It’s unusual to be the owner of a rare piece of artwork, such as a Monet.” Waverly glanced at him, attempting not to stare too long. Who was this cheeky vampire? Asking about her bedroom. He was dangerous. Cultured. Peculiar. Sexy. No, Waverly. No vampires.
She grew more determined to keep the conversation focused on art, on the tour. Afterward, she’d offer a sincere but short thank you for saving her, explain that she was simply looking for her friend, and that would be the end of it. Her boss and Sheila would handle the details with the painting and auction. After the tour, there was simply no way she’d entertain him any further or spend time discussing anything else. Whatever Viktor Christianson had in mind with the donation, this game, it wasn’t going further than tonight.
“I’d be happy to give you a few minutes to take a stroll through the exhibit, but we really should get going. While I’m afraid we don’t have time to see all the exhibition rooms, I’d like to take you over to the Renaissance.”
“Perhaps you have some pieces from the Romantic period?” A playful smile tugged at his lips.
“You enjoy clouds and doom?” she asked.
“You can’t have flowers without rain,” he countered. “I find beauty in every period of art.”
“True.” Waverly smiled, genuinely impressed. So many patrons were all or nothing. “The Romantic exhibit it is. It’s on the same floor as Academic and Realism. Follow me.”
Waverly leaned into her retinal scan for mere seconds before the light turned green. As the lock opened, she placed her hand onto the fingerprint reader, releasing another set of locks.
“Please, come inside.” She opened the door and gestured for him to enter.
Aside from the director, she rarely allowed any other staff members into her private office. A large desk sat in the corner, allowing the morning sunlight to shine on her as she worked. Automatic shades could be activated to seal out light when she worked on different pieces. Two easels placed in the center of the huge space held different paintings, a workbench between them housed her tools.
Viktor scanned the room, making a beeline for the paintings. “Nice studio.”
“Thanks. I’m lucky to have an amazing space to work. Plenty of room for larger pieces.”
“So you’re the sole curator?”
“There are others that work under me, but I’m the head curator. I inspect the pieces when they arrive, document everything. Some require extensive work. Take this one, for example.” She pointed to a small painting that depicted angels.
“Renaissance art?”
“It appeared so at first anyway. I was told to expect a painting from Plautilla Nelli. I could hardly believe it and was very excited to be able to show it. But the size is an issue. She was well known for large artwork, but the style itself is nearly identical. I’m still verifying its authenticity.”
“The nun?”
“Yes.” Her eyes widened in surprise that he’d recognize the name. “I was told it had been passed down by its original owners through the generations. Apparently, they’d kept it a secret. It’s possible they had connections within the Roman Catholic Church. There are private estates that still have churches on them and some hold secret collections…artwork, religious relics.”
“Churches hold many secrets.”
“At first, when it arrived, it seemed lovely. But upon inspecting it I noticed irregularities on its surface. Something about it isn’t quite right.”
“There.” Viktor pointed to a raised rough patch in the right-hand corner of the painting. “That looks like more than over-restoration.”
“Yes, I agree. So you understand why I question the authenticity. The paint must be removed and restored before it’s presentable for exhibition. I’ll have others in the community look at it as well.”
“I’d love to hear how you came by the painting,” Viktor began.
“I’m sorry. Unfortunately, that’s confidential.” Waverly declined to offer any other details.
“Tell me about this piece,” he said, appearing willing to leave the conversation without further question.
“This.” She smiled. “This is mine.”
“She’s beautiful,” Viktor noted, coming up behind Waverly. “Who is she?”
Heat rushed to her cheeks, sensing the warmth of his body behind her. She hesitated to answer. What is this man doing to me?
“I didn’t expect to show this to anyone. I don’t usually—"
“She must mean a lot to you.”
“Well…” She turned to meet his gaze, her heart pounding, so close to the dangerous vampire who had saved her.
“You have her eyes,” he said, his voice low.
“She’s my grandmother. Mary. We were close.”
“You create and curate art. You’re very talented. I’m honored to have been able to meet you.”
“I…I’ve always loved art.” Warmth bloomed inside her chest as he smiled at her. Drawn to the powerful vampire, she struggled not to let the seeds of attraction take root. Instinct warned her to remember what he’d done and who he was. She lost time, gazing into his mesmerizing blue eyes.
Waverly dug her fingernails into her palms, allowing a sting of pain to snap her out of the trance. “I suppose what I’m saying is that art history is fascinating. It’s not just the artwork itself, but the artists, the painters, the masters. The actual creation process ranges from painstaking labor that takes years to complete to easy, simple creation. The result is often perfection.”