‘Here. You have nothing to hide here,’ she replied, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice.
He quirked an eyebrow in question.
‘You have, as you’ve been quite proud enough to declare—a large number of hotels around the world, at least three residences, one in London, one in Siena and the other in New York. It is highly unlikely that you would offer me complete access if you had the painting here. However, in case you are attempting a double bluff, I’ll just take a turn,’ she concluded as she pushed back out of her seat.
‘By all means. And when you are done investigating, Benjamin will show you to your room. In the meantime, I have some very important luxuriating to be getting on with. But if you need me, I’m yours.’
His last words repeated on a loop in Sia’s mind as she made her way up the ridiculous amount of steps in the five-floor mansion that Sebastian called his London apartment. Despite her words about a double bluff, she knew he’d never offer her access like this if there was even a hope that she’d run into the painting. So it was unlikely that was here.
But as she walked the hallways lined with expensive art collections, priceless antiques and furniture, her disappointment gave way to awe, which in turn gave way to confusion. It just didn’t feel like him. It was incredible but staid, old, moneyed. It didn’t speak of the charming, game-playing playboy. There was no sense of fun in the décor. She had half expected to find a painting from the Dogs Playing Poker series hanging on the wall in between a Rembrandt and a Vermeer, but there wasn’t one.
And all this space... What did one person do with it? She pushed open another door into another empty bedroom. Each one was perfectly made up, clean, immaculate, as if waiting to be filled, and suddenly it struck her as a very lonely house.
Down another flight of stairs, the smooth curved banister cool beneath the palm of her hand, and it looked just like the two floors above it. Barely taking note of the impressive paintings on display any more, Sia wondered if Sebastian had grown numb to their beauty in the same way she felt herself becoming, and almost laughed. Less than a few hours in his world and she had stopped caring whether the next painting was a Picasso or a Degas. Though, even as she thought it, she peered around, hoping that it actually might be a Degas.
Smiling at the turn of her own thoughts, she pushed open a door that she quickly realised was not like the others. The sheets on the bed weren’t turned down with almost military precision, but were crumpled in a heap. The pillows still bore the impression of being recently slept on, and the air still held the scent of aftershave that was unnervingly familiar. A sound should have drawn her attention to the slightly open doorway in the corner of the room but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the impossibly large bed. She was in the midst of calculating just how many people it might be feasible to get on it when the flash of something at the edge of her sightline drew her gaze.
Once again, the man had a towel around his waist and far too much delicious skin on display. His muscles rippled as his arm towel-dried his hair and the breath caught in Sia’s lungs.
‘We really must stop meeting like this.’
She practically squeaked as she fled the room in a burst of shocked frustration made only worse as Sebastian’s laugh chased her down the corridor.
It was strange having another person in his house. He never entertained his female guests here, despite what he’d said to Sia in the pool room. So, having Sia move independently around his space left him feeling...out of sorts. He’d been halfway through his dinner when he’d realised that she might have wanted to join him, his food sitting uncomfortably in his stomach until Benjamin informed him that Sia had asked to have her dinner in her room.
Reluctantly, he had to concede that he really hadn’t thought this through. Yet it had been the only way to ensure that the people who had helped him—who he had helped—had his protection as much now as ever. So, reaffirming his conviction in his decision, he’d instructed Benjamin to invite Sia for a drink.
And as Sebastian looked out across the London skyline from the luxurious roof terrace, he turned his mind to the puzzle that was Sia Keating. He was surprised that she hadn’t yet asked her question. He’d thought it might have been the first thing she’d say to him. She was clearly gutsy enough to have approached him in Victoriana, even to have accused him outright of the theft of a painting worth over one hundred million pounds. But she’d blushed like an innocent in the pool room, and run from his room as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. And the only real distinction between the two had been the use of the alias Henri.
‘It’s a beautiful home you have here.’
Still dressed in the same white shirt and wide blue trousers, there honestly didn’t seem to be a wrinkle or hair out of place as she walked towards where he sat as the sun hovered lazily on the horizon as if reluctant to leave.
He stood, gesturing for her to take a seat at the table opposite him. Her eyes seemed to soften momentarily at his manners, until his response checked hers.
‘This isn’t my home.’ He hadn’t meant for it to sound so sharp. It gave away too much and she knew it.
‘Then what is?’ she asked as she sat in the seat, briefly smiling at Benjamin as he poured her a glass of wine.
‘Is that your question?’ Sebastian asked as Benjamin retreated.
‘Not the one you have agreed to answer truthfully, no.’ Her eyes settled on his with a confidence he found somewhere between Sia and Henri.
‘My primary residence is in Siena,’ he said, answering her original question. ‘It was the first property I bought after leaving Spain.’
‘Do you miss it? Spain?’
There was a pause while he chose whether to answer her or not.
‘Yes. It is a strange thing to know that you will never be allowed to go home.’
‘When was the last time you were there?’
‘I was eighteen. My father made a bad choice of who he wanted to go into business with. But he also convinced a few other noble families, and not just in Spain, to invest in the same deal. So when the deal...fell through we weren’t the only ones to lose everything. The shame it brought, not just to our family or the other investors, but the royals was immense. And because my father was the main investor and the one who encouraged the others to follow his lead, we were exiled.’
The bare facts did not convey what had happened but he could not stop the images from that night pouring into his mind. He felt the shock of it all over again. Remembering how men had come to his home, ripped things from the rooms and the walls, while Eduardo had sat in his chair, glass of wine in hand, ignoring Valeria, who was screaming obscenities at him. Maria had been standing at the top of the stairs in her nightdress, scared out of her mind, not knowing what was going on. Sebastian had practically shoved the men out of the house while they’d threatened to come back with the police and legal documents, which he’d told them to do.
Realising that his father was incapable of doing anything, there had only been one way forward. In less than twenty-four hours Sebastian had contacted lawyers, taken inventory of all their estates and what was left after the Spanish government had seized their property. With the help of a few remaining staff, he’d got Maria packed and told Valeria to take care of herself and her husband, as a man ticked off the only items they were allowed to leave with—possessions from their mother’s estate from before she’d married Eduardo.