Page 52 of The Prize

“Giocondo commissioned the real painting to celebrate the birth of their second son, Andrea.” I looked over at Tobias. “Mona Lisa’s glow is quite possibly because she’d just given birth and was breast-feeding. Maybe she was lulled by the oxytocin in her bloodstream released during feeding.”

“Okay, wow, that’s a first for me.”

“Look at her. She’s radiant.” I leaned in.

“Or maybe my collector is somehow related to Salaì.” He gave a shrug at his suggestion. “Leonardo’s assistant? After all, his master gifted Salaì with many of his paintings.”

“A clean provenance inspires confidence.”

He smirked.

I shot him a glare. “Did you get me tipsy on purpose?”

“I may have eased the cogs a wee bit.” He looked amused.

And I’d fallen right into his trap by sipping his cocktail like Alice in Wonderland, and then deliriously diving down the rabbit hole after him.

Tobias was incorrigible.

I spun round to face him. “Leonardo da Vinci’s uncle helped raise him, Tobias.” I gave him a knowing smile. “You have so much in common. He had a challenging childhood with a lot of pain and betrayal. He adored math, science, botany, engineering, oh so many things but especially inventing.”

Tension caught in his jaw.

I could see I’d gotten to him. “His biological parents were never married.”

“Leo was a survivor.”

“Organized, dependable and controlling.”

“Ah, you’ve got me.”

“Bossy, hard to keep up with and annoyingly brilliant.”

“I have my moments.”

“I’m still talking about da Vinci.” I turned back to the frame. “The columns are not finished just as in the original in the Louvre. Not bad, Wilder.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not done.”

He looked amused. “Do you think Mona Lisa’s husband demanded the painting from da Vinci because he was taking so long?”

“Maybe he thought da Vinci was dragging out time with his wife. Four years is a long time to spend company with a married woman.”

“She’s enigmatic.”

“Lisa Gherardini Giocondo,” I whispered to her. “Will they believe you were painted by the same hand as your sister in the Louvre?”

He stepped closer to her. “Fess up, Lisa.”

“She lived across the street from Leonardo’s father.” I read his smile. “Of course you knew this.”

“When I saw that sketch in your London flat—” He dragged his hands over his eyes to say the rest.

“Your reaction was adorable.”

“You eccentric English broad.”