“Brand contacted me about a year later, asking if I’d help him get an art dealing business off the ground. It wasn’t money he needed as much as my contacts, he’d said at the time.”
“But you gave him money anyway?”
I knew how much money was in my trust fund, and my dad said Brand’s was the same as what I had. He definitely wouldn’t have needed cash.
“I offered to go into business with him instead.” My dad hung his head. “Originally, I’d planned to ask you to come on board too, basically to do the same thing he was doing here—what I believed he was doing.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Brand refused.”
My first reaction was to be hurt, but I quickly realized that, instead, he’d been protecting me.
“He wanted to ruin you,” I mumbled.
“Hurt me at the very least.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.”
“I’m just sorry any of it happened. I’m sorry Brand felt…” I shook my head. I had no idea what Brand thought or felt.
“I have a question for you.”
I looked up at him.
“What made you come to Italy?”
“Vi. I’d been trying to reach you. It was Mom who suggested I ask her. She told me you’d gone to Italy and that you’d disappeared. She also told me Brand would help me find you. She was so worried.” I bit my bottom lip, unsure whether I should ask anything else. “What happened?”
“I was on my way out of the airport in Florence when ’Ndrangheta henchmen picked me up. My plan had been to find Brand.” My dad shook his head. “I thought the paintings I’d purchased were the forgeries. Since they were in Italy, I thought if I could go back to the dealers with them, I could prove I’d been duped as well. Evidently, they knew more than I did about the real story. They wanted me to hand over Brand.”
“When was this?”
“The day before Thanksgiving.”
I looked up when I heard a noise and saw Knox coming down the stairs.
He had a bag and a cardboard tube in his hands. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked.
“I’m in the middle of something.”
“It’ll be quick, but it’s urgent.”
I followed him out the front door.
“How are you feeling?”
“That’s urgent?”
He hung his head. “No. I’m sorry. Listen, I got an urgent call from my sister, um, Sloane.”
“I remember.”
“There’s something going on at home. It was hard for me to hear her. Anyway, she asked—begged—me to come back to the States as soon as I can.”
“Then, you should go.”