Page 135 of The Prize

The security guard gave us a respectful nod as we approached and granted access to the exhibit room. My paintings were resting on temporary tables set up in the center and my gaze roamed over them. My heart soared that I was in their presence again. Each painting carried a memory of a conversation I’d had with my father about each one of them, and his words stayed with me.

Maria approached cheerfully. “Let’s discuss what you want written on the plaques beside each painting, Ms. Leighton.”

“Call me Zara, please.” I gave Tobias’s senior curator a big hug.

“I hope your answer is yes.” She watched my reaction and added playfully, “Mr. Wilder won’t let me retire.”

“Maria, that’s because your skills are hard to replicate.” He flung an arm around her shoulder. “Do you approve of our new candidate?”

She leaned into him. “I think you’d be lucky to have Ms. Leighton as your new curator. The Wilder would be in good hands.”

“You’re so kind.” I exhaled a shaky breath at the responsibility and my attention fell once more on the collection.

I’d never believed this day would come. That wasn’t exactly true. On that day in Wilder’s penthouse I’d been full of hope that we might pull this off and here we were.

I steadied my emotions, looking upon my beloved works of art and ready to spend quality time with them. Back in New York, we’d packed them up carefully into crates and transported them with us to the private airport where Tobias’s jet was waiting to return us to LA. We’d flown back with our precious cargo. I’d slept soundly on that flight, knowing they were with me.

Memories of my father flooded back as I strolled along the line of paintings and I sighed in wonder at the Vermeer, the Renoir, the Sandro Botticelli, all of them wonderful to my eyes, all thirty of them ready to be enjoyed by so many.

Tobias kissed my cheek. “I have to make a call.”

“See you soon.” I watched him walk away.

“So cute.” Maria gave an endearing smile.

I didn’t want to pull my gaze away and let that image fade. Wilder was the most gorgeous man I’d ever met and even after all this time I was enamored by him and in awe he was mine. Every moment had threatened to pull us apart and yet a greater purpose had fused the bond between us and strengthened us.

I love him.

This man had overturned a decade of travesties and righted the wrongs of a family who until now had run rampant on the world stage. His safety had always been more important than these paintings, and I knew what he’d risked for me to make this a reality.

“Zara?” Maria pulled my attention back on her.

“Yes.”

“I like seeing him smile,” she said warmly. “He deserves you.”

“Thank you, Maria. I’ve never been happier.”

“You studied at The Courtauld?”

“Yes, I loved it there. I worked for Huntly Pierre for a while and now hopefully here. I’ve applied for a work permit.”

She gave my arm a squeeze. “We want you here.”

“That means the world to me.”

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s decide where to hang these.”

Oh, my God, I was staying in America. A rush of blood to my head brought a wave of dizziness and the last few days caught up. I leaned against the table to steady myself.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“A little overwhelmed.” I gave a confident nod. “Let’s dive in—” I pointed to the Degas. “Let’s start with this one. My father loved it.”

It was a silly thing to say because he’d loved all of them.

When I checked my watch again I could hardly believe two hours had passed. I headed off to Tobias’s office. When he wasn’t in there I pulled out my phone and texted him.