Page 38 of Canvas of Lies (Spruce Hill #3)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kat

A rriving at my father’s estate after so many years away was more nerve-wracking than either of us expected.

Nico pulled up to the front gate, gave his name to a literal uniformed guard, and squeezed my knee when I huffed out an exasperated breath.

Spruce Hill had once been voted “Safest Town in America,” but my father acted like he needed enhanced security measures to keep the riff-raff off his property.

It had always been a bone of contention between the two of us.

“We’re not in Kansas anymore,” Nico murmured as the gate swung slowly open.

“There might be no place like home, but this hasn’t been home in a long time. Let’s get this charade over with.”

We were greeted at the front door by Beardsley, the stiff old man who’d been our family’s butler for as long as I could remember. Why we’d ever needed a butler was beyond me, but the man in question gifted me with a rare smile that chased the thought from my mind.

“Miss Katherine,” he said, “what a treat it is to see you again.”

Though shock still showed clearly on his wrinkled face, I stepped forward to hug the old man and his expression melted into unabashed delight.

“Beardsley, you haven’t aged a day. I’m sure you remember Nicolas Beaumont.”

Beardsley nodded solemnly at Nico. “Of course. I never had the chance to express my condolences about your father, Mr. Beaumont.”

“Thank you, Beardsley.” Nico managed a small smile, then said, “I believe Mr. Willoughby is expecting me.”

“Yes, indeed,” Beardsley replied, casting a quick glance in my direction.

I was quite sure his employer was not expecting to see his wayward daughter, but just as certain that Beardsley wasn’t going to say so.

Nico took my hand in his and gave the butler a pointed look. “She’s with me.”

“Of course. If you’ll follow me, Mr. Willoughby is in his office.”

Seeing my father on television was a far cry from seeing the man up close, especially after the years that had passed.

He was seated at his desk—the same heavy oak desk we’d hidden under as children on that fateful night—and he looked as sleek and polished as ever, exuding charm and charisma.

All of those things had made him a star in the courtroom, but had I never noticed that streak of gray through his thick chestnut mane, the slight sagging of skin beneath his jaw?

Funny, I didn’t recall thinking he looked that different during those TV interviews.

Must have had a makeup artist, I thought absently, struggling to make sense of the feelings tumbling around in my chest. Somehow, I’d expected him to be the same as ever, the king in his castle, moving us all around like chess pieces.

Instead, he just looked old.

His eyes, a paler, icier blue than my own, widened almost imperceptibly when he saw me enter the room.

“Katherine,” he said, coming to his feet. “I hadn’t realized you’d be joining us.”

“It didn’t seem wise to send Nico alone to beard the lion in its den,” I replied tartly. “I wouldn’t want some unfortunate accident to befall him.”

My father smiled tightly. “How nice to see that my own flesh and blood has such faith in my hospitality. I’d offer you both some coffee while we discuss business, but I’m sure you’d decline it in case I slipped poison into your cups.”

Nico kept quiet, obviously remembering the sharp repartee between us, even when I was a pint-sized firebrand with skinned knees.

This was not a battle he could fight for me, nor one I’d appreciate him involving himself in.

I was fully capable of taking on my father in a round of verbal sparring, whereas I knew Nico could only recall the bitter taste of defeat from the last time he’d gone head to head with the man.

“No need for pleasantries, Daddy dearest. We’re just here for Nico’s painting.”

I lifted my chin and held my father’s gaze until he gave a tight nod toward one of the shelves lining the walls.

I was surprised by his lack of a rebuttal, but I made sure not to let on.

It was uncomfortably strange being back in this house, especially back in this particular room, and my skin itched with the need to get out of there.

Without a word, Nico went over to the crate containing the painting.

He drew a deep breath before opening it to withdraw the framed canvas.

Even knowing it was a forgery, he handled it with exquisite care as my father sat back down in his chair, ostensibly turning his attention to the paperwork spread across his desk.

I watched as Nico studied the canvas and breathed a soft sigh at the sight of those familiar colors.

It was, after all, an amazing replica. I wondered who’d painted it, how much my father had spent on the forgery—surely a tiny fraction of the astronomical amount Lavigne had paid him for the real thing.

Seeing the hazy image of Nico’s ancestor there on canvas brought a misty smile to his face.

I blinked back tears myself as I thought of all the times I’d sat under the watchful presence of this beautiful piece of art, teasing Nico, listening intently to Pierre, enjoying meals filled with laughter instead of cold silence .

It seemed strange to think a fake could provide that same familiar anchor, but I saw in Nico’s eyes that he felt the same.

After a long moment, he gently laid the painting back in the crate and closed it.

“I’ll sign whatever you want,” he said over his shoulder, “and then, no offense, I’ll be perfectly happy to never see you again.”

My father offered a sardonic smile as he slid a leather folio and an unnecessarily fancy pen across the desk. “The feeling is mutual, Mr. Beaumont.”

I took the crate from Nico and cradled it in my lap as he sat down to read through the papers.

Though I tried to avoid looking at my father, he cleared his throat after a moment and my gaze shot to his face.

For the span of a breath, he simply looked at me, like he was trying to read something in my expression, then he tilted his head in question.

“And you, Katherine? Are you equally eager to be rid of me?”

With a sigh, I leaned back in my seat. “Tell me one thing. Did you orchestrate all of this bullshit just to spite my mother?”

His lips curved, but the expression was far from anything I would label a smile. “Does it matter? Mr. Beaumont is getting what he wants, after all.”

Nico finished adding his signature and tossed the pen down, breaking the intense standoff going on beside him. “Yes, I am. I’d say thank you, but it seems a bit undeserved.”

“I understand you two were in an accident recently,” my father said quietly, his eyes still on me. “Are you all right? ”

I blinked at him, wondering if this was some kind of trick. His dark brows drew down as he studied the faint remnant of the bruise on my cheek. It was obvious his concern didn’t extend to Nico’s wellbeing, but he looked sincerely worried about me for the first time in as long as I could remember.

Maybe he hadn’t had anything to do with the accident. I wasn’t sure how to process that possibility, not when being in this house again had me feeling so conflicted.

“We’re fine,” I replied.

The words came out less sharply than I’d intended, echoing hollowly in the space between us. I forced my eyes over to Nico, who watched the exchange with interest.

He reached over to cup my cheek. “If you’re ready to leave?”

Though I widened my eyes at him for making such a chauvinistic play, I smiled sweetly and rose. “I’ve been ready to leave since the minute we walked in. So long, Daddio.”

My father didn’t bother to stand as we walked out of the room, and it didn’t take a clairvoyant to know what he was thinking. If I was content to slum it with the help, then I wasn’t worth another minute of his time.

For once in my life, it didn’t even sting.

As we drove past the gates, Nico caught my hand in his. “Now that this little chore is complete, I think a celebratory dinner is in order.”

I huffed a humorless laugh. “As long as there’s carbs to be had, I’m in. ”

We dropped the painting off at Nico’s apartment where, with a broad grin, he informed me that he’d gotten a reservation at Panache, the only restaurant in town that had earned his own father’s seal of approval when they first moved here.

Though my eyes widened in surprise—the place was much too rich for my budget these days—I wasn’t about to turn down a delicious meal after such a trying day.

Besides, it was about time we had another proper date, complete with getting all gussied up.

I banished him from the bedroom while I dressed and twisted my hair into an elegant knot.

When I returned to the living room gowned in a short black sheath that hugged each and every curve, I saw Nico’s throat bob as he swallowed hard.

“Holy Christ,” he breathed, surveying me with an intensity that heated my cheeks even from two yards away. “Maybe we should just stay in tonight. I have a few ideas we could try out instead. There’s another pizza left in the freezer and I swear I will make it worth your while.”

I laughed and pointed a warning finger in his direction. “I was promised a fancy meal and I better get it before you try anything else, bucko.”

“You are a demanding mistress, but very well. I’ll see that your every wish is fulfilled, my lady. During and after dinner.” With a flourishing bow, he offered me his arm.

“By the way,” I whispered, leaning so close my breast brushed against his shoulder and my words tickled his jaw, “you look so hot wearing that tie, I think my panties might combust. ”

Clearly satisfied that I was just as desperate for him as he was for me, Nico laughed and ushered me out to the car. I was glad he didn’t try too hard to change my mind, because in truth, it wouldn’t have taken much persuasion on his part.

We had such a beautiful time that we lingered over the wonderful meal, then followed it with coffee and tiramisu for dessert.

A near-constant smile curved Nico’s lips throughout the evening.

Conversation flowed easily and, for once, we left all of our worries locked away back at the apartment.

There was no talk of the painting, my father, or the choices still to come.

“We should do this more often,” Nico said.

He handed the server his credit card, once we finally accepted that the evening had to come to an end. It was just past ten o’clock—not terribly late to our standards, but after the whirlwind of the previous few days, we were both beginning to wilt.

I smirked at him. “Drop a huge chunk of change on dinner?”

“Go out on a real date. Our relationship hasn’t exactly followed the usual progression. This is nice, spending time with you without any plots or crimes or attempted murder. Seeing you in that dress certainly doesn’t hurt, either.”

“It is nice, isn’t it?” I mused, laying my napkin on the table as the server returned with Nico’s card. I waited until the young man left us alone to murmur, “Earlier, you mentioned some ideas about the rest of the night. I really hope a few of those are nice , too.”

Nico’s grin split his face as he grabbed my hand. “Oh, I can do a lot better than just nice, I think. Let’s get out of here. ”

The remainder of our evening was so far beyond nice that we both surrendered to our exhaustion immediately afterward, falling into a deep sleep still tangled up in each other’s limbs.