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It was not the response she was expecting. Especially since he was paying her a small fortune to analyze the statue. “I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to.” Dante put down the artifact and reached for another one. “I want the same thing you do. To find the tomb. The statue may be the clue we are both looking for. It’s why you are here, isn’t it?”

Rieka swallowed. Was she an open book? “I’m here because you are paying me an exorbitant amount of money, and I’m unlikely to live long enough to be around for the next Jimourt.”

Or get another invitation. Absurd that she was putting all her hopes on a statue that may not even exist, but she refused to believe in coincidences. The image of Vandana in the empty tomb had been real. And she had Rieka’s eyes.

Dante smiled. The glint in his eyes was glacial as he slowly looked her over. “Don’t lie to me, Rieka. You can keep your secrets for now.”

Rieka didn’t budge, and refused to break eye contact. Two could play this game. “That goes both ways, Delacroix.”

She wasn’t a hundred percent sure she could trust him. They both had their own reasons for wanting to find the tomb. But she wouldn’t turn down his help—not if it brought her closer to fulfilling Lilian’s dream.

“I would expect nothing less.” Dante answered. “I am curious how you identified the House Mestor statue as a forgery.”

Rieka was silent for a second. It wouldn’t hurt to let Dante know, feed him just enough information that it could build a level of trust between them. Maybe she could be just as manipulative as the Atlanteans. It seemed to be encoded into their DNA. But the thought disturbed her far more than she expected. She ignored the slight nausea it triggered. No, she was doing what she needed to survive. No one else was going to help her. She had learned that the hard way. “There was a watermark at the bottom of the statue. A small floral addition to denote the artist.” She’d instinctively recognized the small mark. If she could go back in time, she would take the secret to her grave. “Age had worn it down. Until it was barely discernible.”

“Have you seen any other creations by this artist?”

“Not within one of the Houses’ collections,” Rieka stated. She was telling the truth. It was an image that had been scattered throughout her mom’s journal. One that Rieka also had inked on her skin, hidden among her colorful sleeve of flowers. Finding the mark on the statue had almost shattered her, and all she had gotten out of it was a lifetime of questions she could never answer.

Dante leaned forward, until she felt the warmth of his breath, and he touched one of her errant curls and flicked it off her shoulder. “You intrigue me.”

Rieka stilled. All words and thoughts left her as heat flooded through her. She opened her mouth; her stomach grumbled loudly.

“When was the last time you ate?” Dante asked.

The heat turned to mortification. This morning? She had been anxious about the trip and flying. She had forgotten all about food, except for the fruit she had nibbled on during the flight.

“The artifacts can wait. You need to eat.”

“I don’t…” Rieka’s stomach growled again, interrupting her. She threw her hands up. She would not win this battle. And now that he had mentioned it, she was hungry. “Fine.”

“Good. I will show you the second-best kept secret of the House.”

“And that is?”

“Tatiana’s cooking. She is the head chef of the House.” An actual smile tugged at Dante’s lips. “I have been trying to convince her to work for me for centuries.”

“What is the best kept secret?”

Dante smirked at her. “That can wait for tomorrow.”

Chapter 17

Thewomanandtheflames hypnotized Dante. He wanted to reach out and touch both of them.

“I think I just died,” Rieka muttered under her breath. The fire behind her flickered to life; the flames matched her eyes.

The kitchen was muted, the stillness unnatural compared to the chaotic atmosphere it normally held. They were alone. He had ensured that there would be no intrusions. Tatiana guarded her kitchen with a ferocity that would impress experienced generals, and no one in their right mind dared to contradict her. But he had been one of the few Atlanteans granted access. An honor that he had never understood as a child. And one that he did not use lightly. This was his favorite time, the calm before the storm. When the stillness within the kitchen was tangible. He had never shared this moment with anyone else.

The kitchen appeared unchanged, even after four centuries. Large marble stone tops dominated the room. Someone had discreetly added modern conveniences such as ovens over the years, but the original hearth remained one of the focal points.

The food was exquisite. Tatiana had outdone herself, as always. One of these days, Dante was going to convince the head chef that she should work for him in New York. He had more than enough room for Tatiana and her consort.

“And she won’t move?” Rieka asked between bites.

They sat at the only table, half-hidden in the room. It gave the observer an unobstructed view of the kitchen. He had spent hours here as a child watching Tatiana command the kitchen, and it had been far more of an influence on him than anyone could have predicted.