Page 141 of The Prize

He leaned close to my ear. “You thought this was Icon’s doing?”

I cringed inwardly realizing I’d messed up the mood of the evening.

“After everything?” His voice cracked with emotion.

“It’s a big day for me. Just give me a moment.”

He kissed my cheek to comfort me. “I get it.” Though his eyes reflected hurt.

“I’m still getting used to being here,” I explained. “This place.”

He caressed his chin thoughtfully. “I was going to tell youLa Maja Desnudawas here. Your nosy nature proved unwavering. I thought you were still with Clara.”

“I came to check on you.”

“Spy on me?”

“I should have waited for you.”

He mulled over that. “Want to see your surprise?”

“The reason you went to London?”

“There’s a price to pay for your mischief.” He swept me up, flung me over his right shoulder, carried me out of the room and waved to the guards who looked on seemingly not sure what to make of us.

I laughed at his playfulness.

He smacked my bum. “You might want to shut your eyes for this part.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Rock your world. The thing I was put on this earth to do.” He put me down and crushed me between himself and the wall. “The reason I went to London was not predominantly for the Goya. Or to have Clara here.” He gestured to the door beside us and I realized we were outside my exhibit.

“Then why?” Unable to wait a second longer I burst through the door—

The paintings looked incredible adorned along pristine walls, and as I wandered along tears welled at their beauty, each one was awe inspiring with its polished brass plaque set beside its frame detailing its painter.

And then I saw her—

My belovedMadame Rose Récamier, the 1803 Jacques Momar I’d donated to The Otillie, and the reason for Wilder being at the gallery that same evening. She looked just as vibrant as when she’d adorned my bedroom and only survived the fire because she’d needed restoring, and had found herself in my father’s office on that dreaded night. They were all here and safe...almost.

I turned to face Tobias. “How?”

“You signed off to me being a custodian of all your art, remember?”

He knew whatMadame Rosemeant and had gone out of his way to bring her here.

Tobias stood beside me. “I tried to bring over the others from The National Gallery. They’ve already had the brochures printed. All ten thousand of them for the Michelangelo exhibit. Magnus Needham begged me not to remove them from the gallery just yet. I tried.”

“Oh, Tobias.” I turned to face him. “Thank you.” I soaked up the profoundness of what was within this room. “The others will join us eventually.”

“We’ll keep yourSt. Joanout of the limelight for now.”

“That’s a good idea. Let everything settle first.”

He pressed his palm to his chest. “I will be the most honored museum owner in the world to have your entire collection here.”

“These are here because of you, Tobias. All of them. My father would be so proud of you.”