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I used the remote to lock the door and invited the two to the conference room in the back after the man also flashed his badge. Once inside, he introduced himself as Special Agent Dan McWhinn and the woman as Special Agent Sonia Vasquez.
“Am I in some kind of trouble?” I asked.
The man cleared his throat. “We’re investigating a high-end forged-art ring. Yours, along with several other galleries in New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and other cities both here in the US and around the world, are purported to have sold several of the forged pieces.”
“Wait. Are you saying you believe the Catarina Benedetto Gallery has sold forged art?”
“Allegedly, yes.”
I shook my head. “I can assure you my partners and I have not. We thoroughly research the provenance of every piece we sell, most of which are purchased from some of the most respected auction houses in the world.”
My cheeks flushed when I realized I was wrong and they were right by the look on their faces.
“How many pieces are we talking?” I asked, wanting to excuse myself and throw up.
“Twenty-four.”
I saw spots before my eyes. Twenty-four? God, that number could value in the millions. “Do you have a list?”
Agent Vasquez passed it across the table, and I scanned it. Yes, it was millions. The other thing I noticed right away was I had personally arranged for the procurement of every painting on it. While I’d previously wondered if I was in trouble, maybe it was worse.
“Am I under arrest?” I asked.
“Not unless you knowingly arranged for the sale of fraudulent paintings,” Agent McWhinn responded.
“Of course I didn’t,” I snapped.
Before they left, the two explained it was an active investigation, so I was not permitted to discuss it with anyone.
“What about my partners? I can’t keep this from them. Or our clients.”
Agent Vasquez handed me each of their business cards and suggested I schedule a time for them to meet with my partners. “We’ll be in touch as the investigation moves forward. We’ll also be the ones to notify the current owners of the art in question.”
“I’m here to help, Butterfly,” Brand said, jarring me out of the thoughts I’d gotten lost in.
I raised my head and glared at him.
“Sorry—Penelope.”
“Are you working with the FBI?”
“In conjunction with them, yes.”
I had half a mind to call Kade directly and ask what the hell was going on, particularly since the only one of my four partners who knew so far was Tara. Wait. Tara.
“Is your sister behind this? Did she contact Kade, err, Doc?” Not that there was anything wrong with her doing so. I just wished she would’ve talked to me about it first.
“She did not, and she and I have not spoken since my release.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wanted to see you first, Butter—Pen.”
I didn’t necessarily hate the nickname he’d bestowed on me; it was more the memory of the last time I heard him speak it, which was also the last time I’d seen him before today, that unsettled me.
He’d put his hand on the back of my neck that afternoon, whispering, “Butterfly,” before we’d shared our first and only kiss.
It was nothing like the ones on the cheek we’d exchanged earlier. No, it was a lover’s kiss, hotter than any I’d had before or since.