Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

ZELDA

"A fake, you say?" Mal stroked his chin. Zelda could see the wheels turning in his head. "How can you tell?"

"Well, the best way would be radiocarbon dating the paint and the canvas, but we can't do that right now," she said. A savvy forger would use a canvas from the right period. Often, unwanted paintings were stripped from the canvas or simply painted over. Paint dried out and wouldn't have survived the centuries. "The forger might be using age-appropriate pigments, but the linseed oil would be modern. The second best tell would be the back. The real thing would have stamps from every gallery and auction it's been at. If it's too clean, it's a fake."

Zelda's fingers itched to lift the frame from the wall and inspect the back of the painting. A nearby guard gave her the stink eye.

"Right now, I'm going with the fact that there's the wrong number of poppies in the painting. The real one has two red blossoms and one bud. This has three full blossoms," she said.

"Are you certain?"

Zelda rolled her eyes. "About one of the most infamous stolen works of art? About a painting rumored to be on Mars and one I researched before the party? Yes, I'm certain. This is my wheelhouse. Honestly, I don't question your deal-with-the-devilry."

"That is false. You have questioned me at every step," Mal said, amusement in his voice.

Zelda turned to Mal. "Is Amiron the kind of person who'd be upset if he were cheated, or is this a prank he's playing on us?"

Mal considered the painting before answering. "He is vain and craves constant attention. This may be a ploy. The painting's existence was a badly kept secret."

"So, he knows it's fake, and his humble brag drew the wrong sort of attention," she said, nodding her head. "He deserves to be robbed."

Mal laughed and it was bone chilling, like a leak in the dome that let in dust and radiation. All the hair on the back of her neck stood at attention because something very bad was coming.

"You have a petty heart, Zelda Kniffen. I approve," he said.

Night had fallen. Below, the lights of the city glimmered. Above, the two moons huddled together in the sky. Soon the larger, Phobos, would pull away, leaving Deimos alone.

None of that held her attention.

Zelda stared at her reflection. She didn't recognize herself. It was more than the dress and how her shoulder-length hair flipped up in curls. It was also more than the striking man standing next to her or the way his eyes smoldered when he looked at her. Literally smoldered.

She was happy.

Malgraxon needled and teased her, treating their entire arrangement like a private joke, but she liked the feeling of being in on the joke. Could she be this person all the time, or was this a one-time deal?

The party fell silent, just a natural pause in conversation. Zelda spotted Walker exiting the elevator. He looked the same, which was to say flawless and handsome, with his square jaw and perfectly styled hair. The woman on his arm was gorgeous. That went without saying.

Mal stood next to her, his hand resting on her shoulder.

From this distance, she didn't feel much of anything. She expected to be hurt, maybe sad, definitely angry, but right now, her emotional landscape was as cold and barren as the red planet she called home.

Walker must have sensed her staring at him. He turned. For just a moment, his eyes went wide, and the color drained from his face. The woman on his arm spoke, snagging his attention, and the charming smile returned.

Mal's grip tightened on her shoulder, prompting her to look at him. "I will hunt our host. You will remain here."

"And be bait," she said in a dry tone. "Although, maybe reconsider your use of the word hunt."

For a second, his eyes went black. "I did not misspeak." He did not shout. Even though he spoke barely above a whisper, she felt his words reverberate within her.

Zelda managed to make a squeaky noise as a response.

He cradled the side of her face with one hand. She couldn't look away as the black in his eyes swirled and eventually dissipated. "Do not let that unworthy male rattle you. Only I get that pleasure."

The way he said that word, like he was lapping up honey… and now she was blushing. Before she could form a reasonably coherent retort, he left to speak with a silver-haired man.

The man stood out from the crowd, wearing a casual black sweater, white linen trousers, and no shoes. Zelda recognized Amiron Yan, the wealthiest man on Mars. Who else would have the nerve to go barefoot to a posh shindig?

She drifted over to a glass sculpture on a pedestal. It was a complicated, free-flowing form spun in crystal clear glass, and it was absolutely boring. Technically difficult, sure. Not a single bubble or blemish marred the glass, and that was what made it soulless. It was too perfect. Zelda couldn't imagine the hours that went into handling the molten glass, blowing it, working it into the correct shape, reheating and shaping again, twisting the liquid glass so the finished product looked like it was trying to melt its way off its pedestal. The sculpture was definitely a statement piece, but whether it was about a philosophical stance or just a commentary about how some people would hand over loads of cash for fine art, she wasn't sure.

Actually, now that she circled the sculpture, she was certain it was about taking money from fools.

"It's an impressive piece," Walker said, sliding up next to her.

"Technically impressive," she replied, turning her gaze to him. Her grip tightened on the wine glass. "It's an attractive package that, much like clear glass, is transparent. There's nothing inside."

Walker huffed and grinned. "Why do I get the feeling you're not talking about the sculpture?"

"I like it," the woman clinging to Walker's arm said.

"Zelda, this is my fiancé, Luna," he said.

"Luna like the moon," Luna said, for no good reason. Her gaze swept over Zelda, as if calculating how much of a risk she posed. "How do you know each other?"

Now that she was face to face with the man who betrayed her, Zelda expected anger to overcome her. To blind her. He used her, framed her, and replaced her. Absolutely no one would blame her for throwing her drink in his face. Instead, she felt cold.

"We used to work together," he answered.

"Oh, I didn't know you were an art dealer," Luna said, giving Zelda a cold smile. "The art world is so small here. I thought I knew everyone."

"I do appraisals for a private dealer now," Zelda replied, bending the truth a smidge.

"How interesting. Oh, Bebe wants to talk. I'll let you two talk shop," Luna said, planting a kiss on Walker's cheek before leaving.

Zelda raised her glass at the display. In an artificially sweet voice, she said, "Wow. I completely expected her to pee on you to mark her territory."

"Don't be crass," Walker said, his tone still genial. With that fake smile still on his face, he scanned the room to see if anyone was listening to him. "I heard you were working in a pawn shop."

"Well, I admit the situation is a bit humbling, but that's what happens when you're framed for robbing your boss. Makes potential employers skittish."

"Is this a joke to you, Zelda? What are you doing here?" He touched her arm, but she jerked away.

"Same as you, I expect," she answered.

"Oh, I doubt that."

She lifted her chin and gave a subtle nod in the direction of the fake Van Gogh.

"I have no idea what you mean. I'm just here for the booze and conversation," he said, draining his glass. He grabbed another from a passing tray. Worry lurked behind his eyes and made his shoulders sag. Under the lights, he appeared waxen and gray. Dull.

Boring , she could hear Mal whisper.

Zelda watched their reflections in the window. Up close, Walker's glossy perfection was overwhelming. In the reflection, with the cold Martian night on the other side, he was just bland. Technically flawless, but empty.

This was the guy who had her in knots? Who took up so much of her mental energy?

What a waste. She liked his face much better when Mal wore it.

"Was any of it real?" she asked, turning her attention back to him. She didn't want to know, but she needed to know. Was he coerced? Or did he spot an easy mark with Zelda, someone willing to overlook his inconsistencies, and faked the entire thing?

"It was as real as it needed to be," he said.

There it was, absolutely the worst response.

"Wow, you could at least try to lie to me and spare my feelings."

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Doesn't seem worth the effort. Not much about you required much effort, honestly. You were just so grateful for any attention."

Zelda's gaze flicked to the heavy glass sculpture. Smashing him over the head with it wouldn't solve anything, but she'd feel better.

"I wouldn't," Walker cautioned. "You don't want to add assault and vandalism to your list of crimes."

"Don't be silly. The spatter would ruin this dress," she replied coolly.

Walker opened his mouth, no doubt for some cruel and witty retort, when glass shattered.