Page 55 of The Maverick (WaterFyre Rising #7)

CHAPTER FIFTY

VANESSA

“Where are you taking me?” I asked from the passenger seat.

I woke up this morning to a surprise. Not only did Attikus already have breakfast ready, but he also had a whole day planned for me.

“We’re going on a date. I canceled all my meetings today and tomorrow to spend time with you.”

Though I loved the idea of spending time with him, I knew he had a lot on his plate. There were urgent matters that needed to be dealt with. He was working with Detective Farmer regarding Miranda and Emmanuel’s murders.

“Are you sure? I know you have a lot to do.”

He reached for my hand and squeezed it.

“Nothing matters more than you. We both need a break from all this chaos. Consider the next two days like an energetic cleansing so we can recharge.”

“Okay.” I smiled at him. “I closed the gallery for the next two days too. Initially, I was going to have Willow work, but she deserved time off as well.”

What was the point of working to death when I couldn’t enjoy anything?

“So where are we going?”

“To the Mount Museum, hiking for some fresh air. Then we’ll head home to watch a movie. Lovers things. Unless you have a better idea.”

“Today, you get to organize our date. But tomorrow is my day to plan.”

“Sounds good.”

I’d been to the Mount Museum a few times, but it was mostly for business. An exhibit one time, and other times, I went to support fellow artists. I hadn’t browsed as a visitor, though.

After browsing the first floor, Attikus took my hand and led me to the second floor.A few visitors wandered around. A group of college students sat in front of an Impressionist painting and sketched in their books.

As I walked through the rooms filled with art and sculpture, I felt like they were whispering secrets of the world to me.

“Do you sense they’re talking to you when you walk through these rooms by yourself?”

“Yes,” Attikus said. “I also sense the messages from the creator.”

He walked up to an abstract paintingwith bold colors and powerful brushstrokes.

With both hands on the cane, he studied the painting.

“This a ten-million-dollar painting that captures the chaos of the artist’s mind.

Kenzi Kyoto was a brilliant physicist but also an artist. He had dementia at a later age.

But during that time, he created some of his best work. ”

“His mind traveled beyond its confined boundaries,” I said. “Society’s expectations and family values can condition us to a certain way of thinking. He was freed from his mental grasp.”

Attikus walked back to me and touched my face. “He could capture moments of liberation. There’s a genius to that. It’s powerful and priceless.”

“That’s why this piece is ten million dollars.”

“Sometimes the price doesn’t match its true value. A seasoned art collector would understand that.”

“Do you own it?”

“Yes.” He glanced around. “There is art here borrowed from other museums, but I own this one.”

We ambled by a hallway that was closed off.

“What’s in there?”

“That room belongs to Orion. He leased the space to store some of his collection.”

I nodded and followed Attikus’s lead to the stairwell.

“You don’t want to take the elevator?”

“The stairs are fine.”

Although he was still using his cane, his walk had changed since I first met him. When we got to the first floor, I gestured to his right leg. “Is your leg getting better? I don’t see you limp anymore.”

“Magic happens when you’re in love.” His eyes gleamed. “You’ve healed me. I’m allbetter because of you.”

“All better?” I walked around him, examining him like a doctor.

“You’ll understand in a moment. Follow me.”

We walked past the Employees Only sign and passed several offices.

“This is my office.” He gestured to a spacious room with his name on the metal plate.

As we continued, Agnes walked out of her office, saw us, and smiled. She wore navy overalls and carried a toolkit in her hand.

“Something broke?” Attikus asked.

“One of the wires from a painting broke, so I fixed it.” Agnes turned to me. “Hi, Nessa. How are you?”

“Excellent. Thank you. You’re so handy.”

“If you ever need maintenance help, you call me.” She walked up to me and whispered. “Or if you ever want to renew your vows. I’m always available.”

I smiled. “Noted.”

We continued down the hallway until we came to a door with a metal plate that read Maintenance . Attikus opened it and strode in.

“Are you going to repairsomething?” I asked.

He smirked. “No, Lily Pad. I’m showing youa special room.”

I laughed. “With an electrical box and boiler?”

“But highly advanced.”

The door opened to another hallway. We made our way along it and entered another door that led us down several flights of stairs.

“Is this some kind of bunker?”

“A safe room. It’s called The Gathering.”

He pressed his palm to a screen, pressed a code, and shifted his position to where something scanned his face. A noise sounded, and the door clicked open.

“That’s some security you havethere,” I said.

“Before we leave, I’ll set you up so the screen recognizes you too.

” He stepped in, leaned his cane against the wall, and looked at me.

“If you’re ever in danger and need to use this room, you’ll have access to it.

” He described the concrete walls, made of high-density steel, and how the door was both bulletproof and fireproof.

It sounded like he was preparing for the apocalypse.

I nodded. “Who else has access to this?”

“Agnes and Joseph.”

I didn’t know what to say. He was trusting me with this room, which obviously held his most prized possessions.

Attikus walked around the room, which had cream-colored walls and warm lighting. On the walls were more framed drawings that resembled the ones displayed at home.

I turned to admire more art, and my heart swelled. “You’re Edgar Moore?” I walked up to the Three Roads Diverged in a Dark Wood painting I had shipped off to the buyer in Boston.

“Yeah.” He smiled. “I placed that custom order a while ago under an alias. I wanted to see what you could come up with based on my brief description. And you delivered a masterpiece. It’s one of my favorites. That’s why it’s here.”

“So The Lost Lily Pad isn’t a favorite anymore?” I teased.

“I can’t store everything in here. I needed reminders of you in my home too. So I chose that piece because it was the first painting I got from you.”

“I didn’t realize I had a stalker.”

He bent down for a kiss. “I guess I was attracted to you back then. Curious about the gorgeous artist who could reach into my soul.” He turned his attention back to the painting.

“You’re the third road—the option that wasn’t visible to me.

But I discovered it as I discovered you—what love can do to a person. You led me to my healing.”

“Attikus.” I wrapped my arms around him, appreciating his declaration.

“Come look at these.” He opened the door to a room full of my paintings.

I walked up to them, running my fingers down each frame. I’d sold these to people over the years. Some had been custom orders.

“How did you find these?”

“You can achieve a lot with money. Joseph had been helping me locate your work for a while.”

I was speechless. “Why do you have this room, Whistler?”

“It was an urge that grew into something complex,” he said.

“I guess I built it as a way of protecting myself. It made me feel safe knowing I had a place to go to when the world fell apart. I had been planning my vengeance toward Ashton, Bobby, and Harry for a long time.” He looked around.

“This room gave me a place to rest my mind and soul so I could recuperate.”

I spotted an office to the side and also a room with a bed. “You sleep here?”

“Sometimes when I work late.” He walked up to me. “But I don’t anymore since you moved into my house.”

He had a massive board filled withpictures and notes about his enemies. The research board looked like a second version of what he had at home.

I touched his cheek. “Despite how this room can protect you, it feels lonely.”

He took my hand. “It is. But I didn’t know someone like you existed for me. I don’t come here that often anymore.”

“You don’t need to.” I turned to the cane leaning against the wall. “Is your leg healed?”

“It healed years ago.” He led me to a lounge area and ushered me to a comfortable chair.

“What do you mean?”

“I had several surgeries on my leg after the event, and I depended on the cane for a while. But the will to survive—the drive for vengeance—helped me get stronger.” He opened a refrigerator that blended in with the wall. “Water, juice, or wine?”

“Water, please.”

He pulled out a cabinet door that was also integrated into the wall and retrieved two glasses. Then he poured water into each, offering me a glass.

“I continued physical therapy to get stronger until I didn’t need the cane anymore. Though I didn’t need it, I kept it for two reasons. One, it reminded me of my survival. I befriended it. Two, I wanted my enemies to believe that I was still injured. People get sloppy when they think you’re weak.”

“So you were pretending to limp all this time?”

“It wasn’t pretending. I limped for a long time.

That habit was ingrained in me. I had to remind myself to stop, but it was especially hard on days when I was preoccupied with other things.

You know how some habits are more difficult to let go?

” He gulped down the water and placed the glass on the table.

“Yes,” I said. “If people could stop their bad habits easily, they wouldn’t have a lot of problems. Butthen you entered my life, and that annoying habit disappeared.

It was so easy. I didn’t even realize it until recently.

” He walked up to me and kissed me. “You healed me in so many ways. Your art and your presence.”

“I’m happy to help you. So the cane is merely an accessory to manipulate your enemies?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“I like that idea. Do your friends know you don’t need the cane?”

“They do now.”

I smirked at my cunning billionaire boyfriend, who was also my husband. Our relationship was strange, but somehow, it worked for us. To the public eye, we were a married couple. But in reality, we were in the beginning stages of dating.

“I guess we’re manipulating our enemies too. You’re not my real husband. We’re lovers. Just dating.”

“I think we’re perfect partners in crime.”

“Okay, Whistler.” I laughed. “Where’s the next crime?”

“A hike in the woods.”

“Where three roads diverge?”

He grinned. “Exactly.”