Page 29 of The Prize

“And Burell keeps your paintings and continues slaughtering the innocent. He doesn’t need to steal, Zara, did you ever think of that? He enjoys decimating lives. He’s a high-functioning psychopath.”

I turned my thoughts to home. “I need to call Clara.”

“I’ll set you up with a call later.” He wagged his finger at me. “No calls for now. No emailing.”

Reluctantly I slid his phone back to him. “We just used your phone.”

“My activity pings away from this location.”

“So what are you doing today?”

“I’m visiting Theo.”

“Your friend at NYU?”

“Yes.” Tobias came closer. “Your plan sucks.”

“My father would want me to find another way.” I cringed with how ashamed he’d be if he knew I had anything to do with the creation of a fake.

“Your father would want you to have the paintings back.” Tobias reached up to my face and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You were both meant to die in that fire. Think about that.”

“Who got us these new clothes? The food?”

Tobias considered his answer. “Coops.”

“He’s here in New York?” I remembered Cooper fondly as his young driver who I’d met in Oxfordshire. A loyal American chauffeur who Tobias trusted. He’d been kind to me when he’d driven me back from Blandford Palace the night of my first adventure with Wilder.

Tobias straightened his back defensively. “I need him to lay low.”

“Where is he?”

“A five-star hotel. He’ll survive.”

“You trust him?”

“Coops is smart. Loyal. He’s worked for me for years.” Tobias headed toward the door.

“Can I come with you?”

He spun round. “Sure.”

“I’m going to persuade you against this idea.”

“Mona Lisawill come through for us. Give her a chance.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“I burned the bridge behind us, Zara. We move forward. Our reputations will be secure. Our freedom returned. All I need from you is trust.”

“A fake painting in the twenty-first century doesn’t stand a chance. There are too many specialists with access to the best science. And if it does slip past a review, if you believe you’re that good—”

“What can I tell you? I’m glad I had a parachute yesterday.”

“That doesn’t excuse our actions.”

“I’m no saint.” He headed out. “But you already know that.”

I buried my face in my palms and questioned if I had what it took to endure this for much longer. My gaze fixed on Tobias’s phone and the iPad he’d left. Both of them were my windows to the world. All I had to do was be willing to risk alerting the authorities.