Page 13 of The Prize

“There’s no need because I’m not staying.”

“Zara,” he soothed as he played with a lock of my hair. “You don’t want to see my grandmother’s Bellini collection?”

I peeked out from my palms covering my face and my chest prickled with intrigue. “Giovanni Bellini?”

He gave a gentle smile. “Yes.”

“Here?”

“I want to show it to you.” He headed into the wardrobe and came back out with a chenille sweater. “This place gets cold at night.”

I pushed myself up and dangled my legs over the bed and raised my arms and let him pull it over me. I shivered into the warmth of the softness that fit perfectly over my dress. “Whose is this?” I helped tug it down.

“Yours. I had clothes sent here for both of us.”

I swallowed past the uneasiness of this revelation. Still, he was luring me with the promise of Bellini and the thought of it made my body quiver.No, silly, I reasoned, it was the way he’d just kissed me—where he’d kissed me—that was tingling deliciously even now.

He reached out and took my hand and led me along the hallway and around the corner, and I felt petite beside him and a little calmer from the way he’d lulled me.

He paused before a beautifully carved oak door. “This was my grandma’s room.”

“Were you close?”

Tobias looked thoughtful. “I spent a few winters here. Edward, my second cousin, and I would play together.” He stared off. “So many memories.”

“Good ones?”

“Really good.” But he frowned as though something had disrupted his train of thought.

“Where is your cousin now?”

“Not sure. Probably off hiking in Kathmandu or scuba diving in Bali. Edward’s a marine biologist. He’s always off on one adventure or another.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

He mulled over this. “Ten years, I think.”

“You must contact him. You need to see him again.”

“Yes, I should. When all this is over perhaps.”

“Why did you lose touch?”

“It was my fault. I became obsessed with my work...”

My heart ached for him as I realized his heroic deeds had distanced him from his family.

I reached for the handle. “Can I go in?”

He seemed to rise from a daydream as he opened the door for me. “Of course.”

This beautiful bedroom had been respectfully preserved with a large four-poster bed in the center and hardwood floors over which a red Persian rug was strewn. To the left sat a white antique vanity with an oval mirror that had slightly faded and a high-backed chair positioned before it. My gaze swept the walls that were adorned with Italian Renaissance artist Giovanni Bellini’s paintings. There were so many of them and they all hung unevenly. Yet it gave the room an unpretentious feel and revealed the classic taste of a woman who’d once lived here.

My gaze settled on a portrait of a young man in a simple frame, and the sitter’s long fair hair and his garb indicated he was most likely a senator who’d commissioned the portrait to add a touch of status to his profession. I continued to wander and admire Bellini’s exquisite paintings. Most of them were religious themed and reflected how he’d revolutionized Venetian painting with rich colors and sumptuous settings and a technique for realism that had even inspired Titian.

I let out a sigh of happiness, as though Bellini himself had reached out and soothed me with his authenticity.

“Feel better?” Tobias asked.