Liz didn’t get the call until three hours later. She had taken to her hotel room, curled up in bed as tried to find a good motivational or self-help book to read in order to pass the time. And to distract her from Hunter’s chilling note. She didn’t want to think about it, but after ten minutes, she found there was no running away from reality.
She should go to the police with the note. Granted, there was no way to connect it back to Hunter, nor could she establish a history of his stalking, but it was something, wasn’t it? They could launch an investigation. They could take her into protective custody if they really believed she had something to be afraid of.
But Hunter had made it clear. She had no proof. All she had was her own knowledge, framed by her slowly-growing paranoid thoughts.
Then the call came, and the sound of Michael’s voice was therapeutic. “Liz?”
“Yes?” she said, a little too breathless.
There was a pause on the other end. “Are you okay? You sound weird.”
“I’m fine. Did you get through to Alessandro?”
“He wants to meet.”
Liz didn’t miss the victory in his voice. She jumped out of bed. “Text me the address. I’ll be there in ten.”
She made it in eight. The cab dropped her off in front of a quaint home, flower beds lining the yard. Michael met her halfway to the door. “Hello, gorgeous,” he greeted with a grin.
“Where’s Alessandro?”
“Always to the point, aren’t you?” He sighed. “He’s inside.”
Liz allowed him to open the door for her. “Whose house is this?”
“My father’s.”
Liz didn’t get the chance to say anything more. Alessandro met them in the foyer, nodding at Liz. “You got here quickly.”
“I didn’t want to give you the chance to change your mind.”
“Come,” he said. “Let’s go to the study. That’s where the painting is.”
With Michael behind her, Liz followed Alessandro to the study. The room was woefully bare, save for a single easel covered in a large white cloth. Alessandro stopped before it. Michael came to her side.
For a few seconds, Alessandro didn’t say anything. He stared at the covered painting, fists clenching and unclenching at his side. Finally, he faced them. “Before I show you this, I think you should know why I didn’t want to sell it to you.”
Liz gave him her best sympathetic look. “You said it had something to do with love.”
He nodded. “I was truly in love once. And it was with a woman who didn’t love me back. But still, she promised to marry me and, being too caught up in her, I didn’t stop to think that maybe it wasn’t the right choice. Marriage can’t survive without love. But I went along with it and… and it ended in disaster. She left me.” He placed a hand on the sheet. “I never forgot her, and to this day, I still love her. My father… he loved her like a daughter, and when she left me, seeing me so distraught hit him so hard he ended up in the hospital. I was the one who did that to him. I was the one who went along with the wedding, knowing it wasn’t the right choice and now my father is dying because of my bad decisions.”
“It’s dementia, Alessandro,” Liz said. “It would have affected him one way or another.”
“I made it worse. He’s on his last legs because of me.” Blinking rapidly, he said, “But I’ve been holding on to this for too long. This painting… it’s only a reminder of my past and if I don’t let it go, I’ll never be able to forgive myself. So here it is.”
He pulled the sheet away. Liz gasped, grabbing onto Michael without thinking. Words failed her.
Alessandro cleared his throat. “It’s my adaptation of Bellini’s Martinengo Pieta.”
He had reversed the genders. The man held the woman, but she wasn’t dying. Her eyes were wide open, staring at the man with a mixture of hatred and love. The man had a hand on her cheek, tears on his own. She tightened her grip on Michael’s hand. Slowly, she came closer to the painting.
“Alessandro,” she breathed. “This might be your best yet.”
“Do whatever you want with it. It doesn’t matter to me.”
She looked sharply at him. “Are you sure?”
“It’s about time I learned to let go.” The tears brimming in his eyes threatened to spill over, but somehow, he held them in check. He looked at Michael. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” Michael said.
Liz was still staring at the painting. Again, she couldn’t find the words to praise it the way she wanted to.
“I have to get back to the hospital,” Alessandro said, breaking into her stupor. “I’ve been away for too long now. You should leave now.”
“Right.” Michael gently pried his hand out of her grip, moving to pick up the painting.
“Be careful with that!” she exclaimed.
“I got it,” he assured. He threw the sheet back over it before he picked it up off the easel. Liz trailed him with her eyes, watching him leave.
“I want to thank you too, Elizabeth.”
Jerking, she looked at Alessandro. “For what?”
“The way you hounded me made me realize how lackadaisical I’ve been. I’ve been wallowing in my own self-pity, blaming myself for things I didn’t even do, when I could be out in the world with that go-get-‘em attitude you have. It made me realize that I can’t waste any more of my time on the past.”
Liz didn’t know how annoying him for the past few days could have possibly bright him to such a conclusion, but she said, “I’m happy I could help in any way.”
“It’s hard not seeing you as the cold curator who only does things for the good of her job. Michael made me realize otherwise.”
Her brows shot upwards. “He did?”
“He told me about you two. He made me see that maybe you aren’t all that bad.”
“Don’t listen to him,” she said. “I am that bad.”
But Alessandro laughed. “That only makes me believe it more. It’s okay to be the good guy, you know?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she said with a shrug, earning another chuckle from Alessandro.
Michael popped his head back into the room. “Everything’s all set. What’s so funny in here?”
To Liz’s surprise, Alessandro said, “None of your business,” as he made his way to the door. Liz followed suit, patting Michael on the shoulder. He followed them with suspicious eyes, but they walked in comfortable silence, then to the waiting cab after Alessandro had locked up.
Liz faced him again. “Thank you for your cooperation on this, Alessandro. The gallery will be in contact with you regarding your painting. We’ll wire transfer you the money.”
“Ah, and just like that the cold curator is back.” Alessandro nodded his understanding. “I have no doubt you will be.”
Michael stepped forward. “It was good catching up with you, old friend. Next time, try not to go into hiding when you’re going through stuff. It’s always best to have family and friends around you during hard times. You should share these things with the ones you love.”
Liz didn’t flinch at his words. She stepped back, allowing the two to hug. Once they were done, Alessandro saluted them farewell, then got into his own cab. Liz, without a word to Michael, hopped into the waiting car. It was a van, the painting sitting comfortably on the back seats.
Michael, to her surprise, said nothing to her. So, neither did she. Truthfully, she was glad for the silence, as weird as it was. It gave her time to think of a proper apology. But when they pulled up to her hotel, she still hadn’t thought of the best way to let him know how sorry she was.
And he stayed quiet all the way up to the room, right up until he rested the painting propped up on the couch. “It should be safe there, right?”
Liz nodded. She kept some distance between them, not sure if it was a good idea to breech it.
Michael sat on the arm rest of the couch and folded his hands. “Is there something you’d like to say?”
“Thank you. For your help today. I couldn’t have done that without you.”
He beamed at that, which had Liz blinking in surprise. Was that it? She thought he was going to make her apologize for their fight this morning. “This is why you should learn to accept help, Liz.”
“What are you talking about? I accept help all the time.”
“I sincerely, sincerely doubt that you do. But, whatever. You got your painting. And I got to catch up with my friend. It’s a win-win situation.” He came to her. Again, Liz was struck by the realization that, as usual, he was coming to her.
“We should celebrate these wins,” he murmured as he drew her into his arms. Discreetly, Liz checked to see that the curtains were still mostly drawn.
“I agree,” she said, relaxing into his embrace. “What do you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. The waterways? Dinner? A show? The possibilities are endless.”
“Or,” she purred. “We could spend the entire day together in bed. Doing other things.”
Michael’s eyes leapt with lust as a slow smile stretched across his face. “Did you come up with that idea yourself?”
“I had some inspiration.”
“Sounds wonderful to me. Why don’t we have a head start on that?”
“Yeah? Would you like if I put on our old friend from last night?”
“Oh, God, Liz, you’re killing me.”
A flirtatious smile enveloped her face. Liz stepped away from him, pulling him by a finger toward the bedroom. “Why don’t we see what kind of fun we can get ourselves into?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”