10. Jenn

Chapter 10

Jenn

I stared at the painting, darkness all around me, other than inside the sphere of light cast by the light bar. I held it so close it didn’t even illuminate the entire painting. And yet I saw nothing.

Nothing other than Emmett and Dante leaving to…

Deep breath out .

Their muffled voices carried through the door, but not clearly enough to make anything out. Except that they were still in the hallway. Instead of Emmett heading to his meeting with Jean-Philippe. No raised voices and no sounds of a scuffle, so they weren’t fighting.

What was with the two of them?

Emmett worked with several alpha males, so it wasn’t as though he thought he had to be the leader of the pack. Or maybe Emmett could work with the men he’d known most of his life, and the new ones were a problem?

That wasn’t it. He was best friends with Scarlett’s boyfriend and seemed to get along well with Drew—both of them had been on the Reynolds team for fewer than six months.

Maybe Dante was the problem?

Maybe he was the one causing the stress?

Or maybe it was me? I laughed and shook my head. There was no way Emmett was fighting with anyone over me.

I had to get my head out of the clouds and focus on the painting.

The layer of varnish was even. Ultraviolet fluorescence showed an almost perfect application. The notes from Massimo’s conservator indicated his work was isolated to the top left corner. He hadn’t mentioned revarnishing the entire painting, so I’d expected the top left corner to appear different under UV.

I extended the light bar’s feet so it stood freely on the table and illuminated the room. I retrieved the camera from under the cabinet where I’d found the light. My next step was to take photographs of the painting and send them to Dr. Ferraro in Michigan.

His team would review them and provide their expert opinion. Hopefully they’d tell me I was wrong.

Or did I want to be right?

As I stood with the camera, inspecting settings, there was a light knock at the door. “Come in.”

Dante walked in, turning on the lights as he entered. His smile was tight, but different from his reaction to Emmett and me in the dark. “Your friend tells me someone was in your room yesterday?”

Why did he tell Dante?

Instead of a confident art restorer, I was now the damsel in distress. I didn’t like that role. “I’m fine. They weren’t there when I got back.”

“Did they take anything?”

“No.” I rounded the worktable and flipped the camera on. “I’m not sure what they could’ve been looking for. It’s not like I travel with expensive jewelry or wads of cash—although I’m sure plenty of people at the H?tel de Paris do. I think it was a simple mistake the front desk made. They probably double-booked the room and gave a copy of my key to someone else. Airlines do it all the time, right?”

Dante stood across the table from me, resting his hands on the surface. He had such long fingers. Big hands. Strong, corded forearms, visible beneath his pushed-up sleeves. “And your new room? Do you feel safer?”

Safer? I’d have to define that word before providing a proper answer. Or better yet? Change the subject. “I need to take a few photographs of the painting under UV light to study the prior work. I don’t suppose there are any cameras with UV filters and Wi-Fi support? So I can airdrop to my phone?”

Dante’s head tilted, and his lips pursed in question. “Why photographs?”

“I never rely on someone else’s notes. I have to run my own experiments before I apply any chemicals.” Not that I’d confess my aunt reminded me of that yesterday, after I forgot her critical lessons.

“No Wi-Fi, but…” He held out a hand, and I passed the camera to him. He turned it to the side, opening the port covers. “I can plug it into the computer in the office and email you what you need.”

“Oh no, I can figure something else out. I wouldn’t want you to have to hang out here until I was ready.”

He returned the camera to me and waved a dismissive hand. “I have some work to do anyway and will be in the office next door for two or three hours. I was worried I might be a distraction with all the racket.”

“Racket?” I stifled a laugh. “What sort of office work do you do that causes a racket?”

He shrugged a shoulder, while one corner of his lips and both his eyebrows rose. “I believe I mentioned my father is heading to Napoli soon? He’s asked me to double-check the gallery’s books before he leaves—three years of reconciliations. I expect there will be a great deal of muttering and swearing. Although I promise all foul words will be in Italian, so it shouldn’t be too offensive.”

“I’m hard to offend.” I nearly snorted. The men I usually dated? Offending me was rarely something they worried about.

“This is good to know.” He winked at me and left.

I watched him go, taking in the way his muscles moved under his clothes. His perfectly formed ass and the way his linen pants draped over defined quads. I closed the door before he could catch me eyeing him.

But I wasn’t ogling. As gorgeous as he was—and that was an objective fact, like saying the David or the Mona Lisa were beautiful—I didn’t feel the same spark as when Emmett winked at me last night. It didn’t shoot through my entire body, land in my toes, and then careen all the way back up to settle between my thighs.

My father’s judgmental voice swirled around my brain.

“You don’t know anything about them, Jenn.”

“Kelley and Heather’s parents don’t have a problem with Scarlett.”

He frowned. “I’ll talk with them. Make them see reason.”

I stomped my foot like I hadn’t done since I was ten. “That’s not fair. You can’t control who my friends are.”

“I’m your father. I have every right to make those choices while you’re still a child.”

A child? “I’m fifteen. I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

My mother stood behind him, saying nothing. Not coming to my defense.

Hot tears stung my eyes. “I don’t care what her dad did. That’s not her.”

“Sweetheart,” he said in that condescending tone he always used, “I know you can’t see it now, but one day, when you’re older, you’ll thank me for this.”

“I won’t thank you,” I sobbed as I marched from the room, “because I’m never speaking to you again.”

My threat had lasted all of a week. Until I needed a ride to Kelley’s house, and my mother wasn’t available.

“ Boys learn how to be men from their fathers,” he said after ten minutes of silence. “But girls? I looked into Scarlett’s mother ? —”

“You what?”

“The investigation cleared her. It looks as though she was as much a victim as the rest of the country. I’m still not happy about it, but you’ve made your point. I’m prepared to negotiate a cease-fire. We’ll have a long discussion about red flags, and then you can spend time with Scarlett.”

He backed down for the first time ever.

My silent treatment had worked! “Thank you!”

His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “But not her brother. He’s trouble, and I want you to stay away from him.”

Dad’s warning had come a week too late.

Emmett stopped talking to me the morning my father forbade me from talking to any of the Reynolds kids. No idea why, he just shut down all communication.

One kiss. One knee-weakening, heart-wrenching kiss. He’d intertwined his fingers with mine, and his free hand had slid over my hip. It had been amazing.

But that was it. The end. No texts, no emails, no DMs. Just nothing.

At fifteen, I’d blamed myself. Thought I was such a bad kisser that it scared him away. Or he was disappointed I hadn’t tried to go further with him. It took a while to get past that.

I hadn’t actually avoided Scarlett that week, like my father thought. After Emmett ghosted me for days, she’d known something was wrong. I cracked under her interrogation and told her about the kiss.

She offered to kick his ass.

I said thanks, but told her to leave it alone.

Emmett and I barely spoke for a year after that. Every time I saw him, I remembered the kiss. Felt the sting of rejection all over again. He’d used me and discarded me.

Like Simon, who’d used me, then slept with someone else.

The guy before Simon? He got angry when I wouldn’t loan him ten thousand dollars for something he claimed he couldn’t explain to me.

Before that? A co-worker who dumped me after stealing my ideas and getting the promotion I should have. He was the real reason I left my old job.

And before that?

God, who could keep track of all the bad news I’d invited into my life?

But Emmett wasn’t like all of them. We were fifteen. No one knew how to express their feelings when they were fifteen. Break-ups were ugly, even if the break-up happened after a single kiss.

He’d taken care of me last night. Wrapped me up in those arms, brought in a team to help, and insisted I sleep close to him so he could keep me safe.

Emmett isn’t a bad guy, Dad. And he’s nothing like his father.