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"They're coming now," I hissed to Carl as we stood in front of the fake Monet painting we'd brought to the auction house.
"Just relax, Katie. We'll be fine. Samuel will be here in a moment."
I knew what he'd say next. This wasn't the first time Samuel had pretended to be an art evaluator, which just made me wonder how many fake paintings there were out in the world and owned by unsuspecting idiots. This was my first time actually doing something that was illegal, rather than just the intention to commit a crime. We were about to commit fraud, whether I liked it or not, there was no denying it.
My head itched beneath my curly brown wig, but I couldn't scratch it without drawing attention to myself. The disguise was good, but I had my concerns about how well it would hold up if someone looked too closely. The guys had it easier, they could don all kinds of fake beards. Or just grow their own if they wanted to. Carl had a very sexy five o'clock shadow at the moment. It made me want to run my fingers along his jaw and feel the rough texture on my skin.
"Katie, breathe," Carl instructed, setting a hand on my lower back. I leaned into him, surprisingly comforted by his touch. And a little turned on.
I'd spent the past three days mulling over what they'd said to me and going back and forth over what I wanted to do about it. I'd been seconds away from calling them and giving in to their every whim when Carl had phoned me to tell me the painting was ready and we needed to take it to the auction house. Because of the short deadline, we needed to move fast, especially as the longer the painting was on display, the more chance there was of someone figuring out it was a fake.
"You must be the Carroways." The white-haired man held out his hand.
Carl took it. "We are, yes. I'm Cedric, this is my wife, Kaleigh."
"It's good to meet you. My notes say you have a painting for us." He'd already half-turned towards the painting and was examining it. I tried to do as Carl told me and breathe deeply.
They knew what they were doing and I had to trust that we were going to be okay. I certainly wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between this painting and a real Monet, and I knew this one was fake.
"It's a stunning piece. Do you know the painter?"
This was it. We could either tell the truth and try to trick Hubert himself later, or we could lie and try to get the auction house to sign off on this being a Monet. The second option was definitely safer for us. If the truth came out later, we'd be able to deny any knowledge on the off chance it was traced back to us.
"Oh my, is that what I think it is?" Samuel swaggered up to us, pulling fake glasses down his nose to study the painting in front of us.
I tried not to snigger at how ridiculous he looked in his relaxed suit and a scarf flipped around his neck. At first glance, he was everything I expected a stereotypical art consultant to be. I almost couldn't believe other people were falling for it.
"What do you think it is?" the auctioneer asked, a gleeful look in his eye. We might have gotten lucky here. A greedy man running the auction could mean we were heading towards the painting getting signed off more easily.
"No...it can't be. It can't have turned up here." Samuel's eyes widened as he stared at the painting in fake amazement. He really was surprisingly good at this role.
"What is it?" the auctioneer repeated.
"I'm hesitant to say without examining it further." Samuel lifted his half-moon glasses as he spoke before setting them back down on his nose.
"But what do you suspect?"
I leaned into Carl, hoping no one thought anything of it. Or that the men would realise just how nervous I was about the whole situation. The three of them had much more practice at watching things they'd forged pass into the control of people who weren't in on the con. For me, this was new, and it came with all the pitfalls I could think of. What if the auctioneer realised we were all bluffing?
"I believe this is a Claude Monet," Samuel said with as much dramatic flair as possible. "It must have been in a private collection." He leaned in closer.
"Do you think?" the auctioneer asked eagerly.
"Oh, yes, see the way the brush has created each point of colour on the painting? It's classic Monet. Not to mention the subject matter. The bridge at Giverny was one of his favourites to paint."
I had no idea if any of what Samuel was saying was true. I'd been to the gardens and seen the bridge, and the painting was unmistakenly of it, but that didn't mean anything. No doubt that was what the forger had chosen because it was so iconic.
"This is the scoop of a lifetime," the auctioneer said. "I must get them to update the program." He hurried off without any of us having to say anything else.
We stayed silent for a couple of minutes, ensuring no one else was about.
"How did you know he wouldn't have his own authenticity test done?" I asked softly.
Carl chuckled. "Samuel's been playing an expert in these circles for years. But mostly because the auctioneer is greedy. He wants to say he's auctioned off a Monet."
I frowned and looked back at the painting. "Doesn't it seem dangerous to be going for something so high profile?"
"Definitely," Samuel responded. "But Dean is back at the house doing his magic. The auction house will send out an email about this to their high profile clientele, but it won't get to them. He'll intercept and change a few words."
"Smart," I muttered, though their reassurances didn't do anything to still my beating heart. This was dangerous. Beyond that. If anyone could link us to the fake painting, we'd end up in jail.
Then again, that was the case with any of this. Fraud was as bad as forgery in most people's eyes.
"We should carry on our walk around the lots, dear," Carl suggested, reminding me of my role in this.
"Of course. There was a particularly beautiful bracelet I had my eyes on," I said, not having to lie to play the auction attendee this time. There truly was a beautiful array of jewellery here.
"Oh?" Carl raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you lead the way, and I'll come see it."
I led him away, neither of us saying anything to Samuel. The whole plan would fall apart if anyone thought we knew one another.