The Truth of Never (The Never Trilogy Book 3) Page 24

  I could feel every ounce of control I had slipping but when for a split second, my schedule for the day flashed before my eyes, I found the strength to pull myself away from her and took several steps back. I raised a hand to stop her from coming any closer since I couldn't yet find my voice. I was so hard that I felt sorry myself; today was going to be hell if I didn't get the release I needed before I left here. But I couldn't afford that.

  She folded her arms across her chest and waited for me to get myself together. Get myself together... I couldn't even believe the thought was going through my head. This woman was a like a drug to me; that had to be the only explanation for this kind of reaction over just a kiss from her.

  "I was your first kiss." I said to her. "And I clearly remember you trying to keep up. You've significantly improved but I'm not sure whether to be happy about that or terrified."

  She laughed and the sultry sound worsened my state - I was in trouble.

  "Why would you be terrified?" She asked.

  "Because I have a meeting in a few minutes, and if I take even one more step closer to you I'm going to be late. I'd also probably have to go back home to change because my shirt will be in less than pristine condition. I can't afford that- I'm anchoring a broadcast in a few hours."

  She took a step closer to me. "We can carefully take your clothes off, and then put it back on when we’re done."

  "I'll be late for my meeting."

  "But you need to take care of that," she said, referring to the bulge straining against my slacks. “I don't imagine that's going to go away on its own."

  "You're wicked." I said. "I just stopped by to make sure that you were okay."

  "Well I am now. All I want to do is return the favor."

  "How much time do you need?”

  "How much time are you willing to give?"

  I lifted my wrist to check my watch and my eyes widened when I saw that if I didn’t leave now, I would be too late for my meeting.

  "None at all." I said and hurried towards her door.

  "Nathan!" She yelled, but I had pulled the door open and was out before she could get to me. I was incredibly amused as I walked away but had barely reached the elevator before I realized that I had to go back.

  With a groan, I turned around and called my assistant to delay my meeting for a few more minutes. Her secretary didn't get up to stop me this time when I breezed past her and barged into Lenora's office.

  I shut the door behind me, and started unfastening my belt buckle. Grinning widely, Lenora got up from her seat and strode towards me.

  "This is the first time I've been late to a meeting in my entire career."

  She sucked in her breath through her teeth. "I'm sorry to tell you this sweetie but, I don’t think it’ll be the last."

  Lenora

  Watching Nathan later that day as he anchored was such a delight to me that I couldn't sit still. I was leaning against my desk and staring at the TV when Carlie walked in with a folder underneath her arm. She stopped when she saw me smiling at the television.

  "You've got be kidding me." She said but I ignored her. When they cut to a commercial break, I hurried towards her.

  "Give me your phone please."

  "Why?”

  “Nathan replies his viewers’ tweets during commercial breaks."

  "Why don't you use your account then?"

  "I have too many people following me. They'll wonder what's going on."

  "Argh." She groaned, and gave it over to me.

  "What do I say?" I asked her.

  “What do you want to say?”

  "I don't know. I just want him to know I'm watching."

  "Trust me, he knows you're watching."

  "You're no help." I complained and looked down at the keypad. "Looking good..." I wrote, but it made me cringe so I immediately deleted it.

  Eventually, I decided on 'I love you' and pressed send before I could change my mind.

  I waited with bated breath for a response, but when the commercial break ended and I didn’t get one, I immediately deleted the tweet before it put Carlie in trouble with her followers.

  Disappointed, I went around my desk to sit down “Let’s start our meeting.” I said to her but just then, I received a text on my phone. I picked it up and placed my hand against my chest to steady my pounding heart, when I read what it said. It was from Nathan;

  "I love you more."

  Carlie noticed my ridiculous grin. "He replied to you with a text?"

  I nodded, my chest filled with so much emotion.

  "How did he know you were the one? What did you tweet?"

  "I love you." I said and her pen dropped from her hand.

  "What?"

  "I've deleted it."

  "Give me my phone." She ordered. “And stay away from it. Open a fake account next time and flirt with him all you like."

  I handed it over to her. "His brothers are visiting him in a few weeks. Do you want to have dinner with us?"

  Her head snapped up. "His brothers? Which ones?"

  "The two single ones."

  "Of course I want to have dinner with you.”

  Chuckling, I accepted the folder from her and we got to work.

  « CHAPTER 18 »

  Nathan

  Two Weeks Later

  My brothers were enamored with Lenora.

  I looked up to see her sitting on the edge of the dining table and grinning up at them as they entertained her, probably with stories from our childhood. They all had a glass of wine in their hands, while Carlie and I labored away in the kitchen.

  Eventually, she traded places with Carlie, and came over to join me. We were making Portuguese duck rice. After we placed the tray in the oven, I leaned against the counter and drew her to me. She rested her back against me, while I wrapped my arms around her.

  "How was the visit to the hospital today?” she asked, referring to the visit my brothers and I had paid Elizabeth earlier in the day.

  "I’m just glad you and Carlie are here right now.” I replied. “Otherwise it would have been a very solemn dinner.”

  “How is she?”

  “There is still no improvement, and the neurosurgeon says that it is more likely that she would worsen than improve."

  Nora trailed her right hand up and down my arm in a soothing motion. "Don't be sweetheart." She said softly. "She’ll get better.”

  "I hope so, but my concern right now is that Damian is named as her next of kin. If her condition worsens, the decisions will be up to him and I don't trust him to make the right ones."

  She looked up at me. "What exactly do you mean by ‘if her condition worsens’?"

  “They’re suspecting that she may be brain dead because of how unresponsive she's been since the surgery. But based on the MRI scans so far, it doesn't seem to be so. Although she suffered a stroke, it wasn't a massive one, and she doesn't have a blood clot in the most vital part of her brain so if she does wake up, she still has a chance at a normal life. However, her chances are extremely slim and sooner or later, we'll have to make a decision if she continues to be unresponsive. I'm ready to wait for as long as possible, but I don’t know how long Damian is going to allow her to remain that way without any progress. He might come to think that letting her off life support would be the better thing to do.”

  In an effort to console me, she turned around and wrapped her arms around my neck.

  "I'm okay." I told her. "She'll get better, I believe that."

  "I love you." she said.

  "I love you too." I replied, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

  A few minutes later, everyone came to help us in moving the food and dinnerware to the dining table However, just as we were about to settle down to eat, the doorbell rang.

  *

  Alvaro got up to answer it, while the rest of us took our seats. However, before he could get to the door, whoever it was started pounding on it.

  “Who the hell is that?” Alvaro asked, irritated.
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  He pulled the door open, and Damian stormed into the apartment. “You bastard!” he yelled, and only stopped when he realized that I wasn’t the only one in the room. His eyes were ablaze with anger.

  I was about to respond when Alvaro stepped in. "Who the hell are you to just barge into someone’s apartment? Alexandre, who’s this fool?”

  “He’s Elizabeth’s stepson,” I was the only one who didn’t look confused, startled or annoyed at his rude entrance, because it gave me the confirmation that I’d been waiting for all day. Damian on the other hand was fuming.

  He pointed his finger at me, jabbing the air with it like it was a sword, while I folded my arms across my chest, and leaned back into the chair to listen to what he had to say.

  “You went to my investors to accuse me of fraud? And then you threatened to accuse them of possessing stolen property? Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea what you're playing with?"

  "Since it's brought you over here in such a rage, then I think it’s quite accurate to say that I do."

  He laughed bitterly. "You think you know everything don’t you? I cannot wait for all of this to blow up in your face. Then you'll be ruined, and I wouldn't have even had to lift a finger."

  I ignored his empty threats. "I hope they thoroughly relayed my message to you, but just in case they didn't, be reminded that you have three days. If you aren't willing to cooperate with Lenora by then, I'm going to the FBI.”

  "Going to them with what? You have no proof.”

  “They’ll find the proof when they’re done with your place, and that of your investors. You even coming here this outraged, proves that I’m not so far off the mark.”

  “Do you know that what you’re threatening is my family’s legacy?”

  “I’m aware.”

  "Then I do hope you expect that when I come after you, I'm going to strip you of everything that you have. You will pay for this.” He swore, and walked out of the apartment.

  Everyone turned to me for an explanation so I calmly picked up my fork, and told them to take their seats. "I'll explain as we eat."

  "Elizabeth made some mistakes with their gallery. A few years ago, she noticed that the much older works of art that were supposed to command a much higher value than the contemporary works, were being snubbed. This meant that art collectors were paying more for the newer works, and according to her that was unacceptable. So she decided to, putting it simply, ‘reestablish’ the market for Renaissance art. She started pouring their finances into purchasing these pieces, and this brought with it the need for an expansion from their previous gallery.”

  “So they moved into a townhouse with a rent of almost thrice the size of their previous gallery. It was about $160,000 per month."

  Adriano sucked in his breath through his teeth. "That's a lot of money."

  "It is."

  "Let me guess." Alvaro said. "They ran out of cash."

  "Fast. So she took out a seven figure mortgage for her home, and then gathered a few investors whom she convinced to pour in loads of cash into the project. I think in all she was able to amass about 50 million dollars, but..."

  "That ran out too." Carlie said.

  "It did, but the scariest part was the amount of debt that the gallery had sunk into. So to keep it afloat, she sold the works of some of the gallery’s artists without their consent, and refused to pay them. Well she didn't refuse, she just couldn't pay them because she didn't have the cash to. She had the assets, but art isn't easily liquidated like diamonds. She couldn't afford the rent either so pretty soon, her landlord and her investors started harassing her with law suits.”

  “They threatened to shut the gallery down and started filing motions in court. Everything was going badly but then suddenly, all the attacks stopped. People assumed that she’d finally been able to liquidate one or some of the art and had used them to pay off her debts, but I found out that it was actually her investors that had settled the debts.”

  “The same investors that were harassing her?” Nora asked. “What changed their minds?”

  “That was what I had to investigate. What I gathered from my sources was that she had a meeting with them, and offered extremely valuable works of art to keep them quiet for a while, or at least until her escapade started yielding fruits.”

  "I don't get it." Carlie said. "What makes what she offered more valuable than what she was purchasing in the first place? It's all old art isn't it?"

  "My guess is that they're stolen pieces, and their value in the black market is much more than whatever amount of money some art collector is willing to cough up for it. They’re usually used as collateral.”

  "Collateral?" Nora asked.

  "Yes, within the black market. Serious criminals use them to obtain huge capitals for business transactions in drugs, and the likes. So by gifting it to them, they received something potentially more valuable than the debts that she owed."

  "Okay.” Adriano said. “But what's the fraud accusation against Damian about?"

  "I believe the paintings he gave his investors, were all forgeries."

  That silenced the room for a while.

  "Why do you think that?" Alvaro asked.

  "Damian reportedly fell off the radar in the midst of all the attacks against their gallery, and no one was able to figure out where he’d gone. But then suddenly, he surfaced and a few minutes later, the storm against their galley was calmed."

  "You think he forged them himself?" Carlie asked.

  "I believe he did." I replied. "He certainly doesn't lack the skills to. His own work is phenomenal."

  "I don't know Alex,” Alvaro said. “Though mom might have changed over the years, she's always been very protective of her kids. I don't see her encouraging him to take such an expensive risk."

  "There is a law against forgery, but there is none about copying. And the line between them is very thin. If you hang a high quality ‘copy’ of stolen art on your walls, and call them what they are -copies-, then you're fine. However, if you sell them as the original to someone, then you've committed a crime.”

  "So if they found them with him, he could just say that they were copies?" Carlie said.

  "Yes, he could."

  "So the problem now is that his investors are pissed because they thought they were given the originals.” Adriano said.

  “That’s part of it.”

  “But what if the FBI finds them on his investors?” he asked. “Can’t they also claim that they’re just copies?”

  "They can’t, because Damian did a pretty good job at forging them, so much so that they could quite easily end up in a museum as the original work. Damian is probably the only one in the world that can identify it as a forgery, and therefore be able to vindicate himself by saying that they were given as gifts.”

  "So how long have you given him before you go to the FBI with these accusations?" Nora asked.

  "Three days from today, and when I do, they'll ransack his premises and that of his investors."

  "But what if they don't find the paintings? Now that you've told him about your plan, he's bound to start moving them."

  "There’s surveillance in place to watch his every move, and he’s aware of that. Neither him nor his investors can take any suspicious items out of their properties, without being followed."

  "But what if the FBI doesn’t find anything?" Alvaro asked. “What if your assumptions are wrong and the paintings don’t actually exist?”

  "I do admit that for the most part I’ve been going with my gut, but the way he just reacted, gave me all the confirmation that I need."

  "Okay then, we’ll just have to wait and see how he responds. How many days are you giving him again?" Alvaro asked.

  "Three days." I replied.

  "Okay. Three days it is."

  « CHAPTER 19 »

  Damian

  I was fuming with rage as I walked away from Roque's apartment. I'd come over with the intention of causing severe physical
damage to him and leaving him just shy of dead, but the presence of the other two men in the apartment had stopped me. No doubt they'd have taken me down before I even reached him.

  Roque had turned my entire gallery upside down! Just a few hours ago, my investors had barged in, and demanded it to be shut down based on the forgery accusations that he’d brought against me. According to them, ‘I’d bitten the hands that were feeding me’.

  At first, what had struck me dumb was how much of the truth he'd uncovered. No one had ever been curious enough to suspect how my mom had been able to silence the law suits, and calm the investors down. Most people had just assumed that we’d finally made a significant sale that brought us more than enough money to settle our financial troubles. We had made a significant sale alright, but no one would have ever entertained the notion that it was stolen, or in my case, forged renaissance art.

  I'd presented the investors with a painting by Johannes Vermeer entitled ‘The Concert’, and Rembrandt van Rijn’s ‘The Storm on the Sea of Galilee. Both had been stolen almost three decades earlier, and were worth just shy of $250,000,000.

  Due to my family’s long history in the purchase and sale of art, my dad had been rumored to have possessed some ‘special’ old master paintings, passed down to him by my grandfather. The rumored collection was said to consist of never discovered works of famous artists, and invaluable pieces that had been stolen, and remained missing for decades. So I’d capitalized on the myth, and offered the paintings to my investors in exchange for handling our debts.

  After the paintings had passed the authenticity tests, the investors had readily accepted it, with a mixture of excitement and disbelief at their sudden good fortune. Now that Roque, whom they knew to be a renowned journalist, had roused these suspicions within them, I was in trouble.

  Apart from the financial backing that they were threatening to withdraw, there was the fact that my dad had in fact possessed the original paintings and passed it down to me. It was what I’d used to make the forgeries.

  Currently, only my investors and I were aware of Roque's accusations, but if word were to somehow to get out about it, not only could I land in trouble for passing off the copies as the original, I could also be suspected or accused of possessing the actual missing paintings.