Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
The massive four-foot-thick doors swung soundlessly open to reveal a room about the size of a basketball court filled with paintings and sculptures.
Ehren’s knees went weak, and he didn’t realize they were giving out until Stephen grabbed his elbow, helping to keep him upright.
“Ehren?”
“I’m okay. I’m okay,” he repeated because his brain had stopped working. It was as if his uncle had pulled together his own museum. It was…astounding. “How…” he exhaled, still trying to formulate a full thought.
“Mr. Badem started collecting at a young age. Many were gifts as thanks for his restoration work. A few he bought anonymously at auction.”
“The provenance?” Stephen asked.
Ehren looked over in time to see Miray nod. “We have the provenance paperwork for nearly everything in the event that you would like to sell any of your pieces.” She led them into the room, and it quickly became clear that his uncle had arranged everything according to time period and style. He had a few pieces from the Renaissance, more from the Impressionist age. Less fell in the modern and post-modernist age. A handful of portraits. And yes, there was even a Rembrandt.
His heart was pounding so fast as he took in every piece. There were a couple of pieces of furniture, but it was mostly paintings and sculptures. He couldn’t imagine selling any of it, though. These had been collected by his uncle. At the same time, it was a shame they were locked away from the world, never to be enjoyed. They needed to be on display in museums. Maybe he could arrange some loans so everyone could enjoy them.
At the far end of the room, there were six large, boldly colored paintings, but Ehren didn’t recognize the artist.
“These are the only ones that we don’t have the provenance for,” Miray explained. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize the artist, and your uncle never gave the artist’s name.” She offered him a small smile. “I’ve always been curious considering the other artists in your uncle’s collection. I thought maybe he might have painted them, but he was too unsure of his own talent to admit it.”
Ehren shook his head slowly. “No, my uncle didn’t paint as far as I know. Nor do I or my mother. I don’t know who this could be.”
“We offered to bring in an expert to have them evaluated, but Mr. Badem refused.”
“Ehren, I’ve got a friend who might be able to help,” Charlie offered.
He immediately nodded. “Yes, of course. If he can be discreet. I have no intention of selling them, but I’d love to know who painted them. I would think that if they’re included in the collection, they were important to my uncle.”
Charlie lifted his phone and quickly snapped pictures of each of the six paintings.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait until we’re back in the lobby. Our security system won’t allow you to send messages out,” Miray instructed.
Charlie smirked and held the phone out to Kairo.
“Yep, got it,” Kairo easily said, snagging the phone out of his hand. The man typed on it for a couple of minutes and then returned it. “You’re in. The pics have been sent off.”
“What?” Miray gasped.
Ehren winced, but it was Stephen who spoke up.
“Our apologizes, but Ehren’s life was threatened over this collection.” He stepped closer to Ehren and placed his arm around his shoulders in a protective, possessive manner that made all of Ehren’s insides melt. “Our companions had to make sure that everything was on the level for Ehren’s safety.”
“Oh. I—yes, of course,” she stammered, still seeming completely dazed.
Kairo grinned broadly. “If you’ve got your security guy on hand, I’d be happy to give him a few tips before we leave.”
“Thank you. That would be appreciated.”
Ehren started to turn back to the painting when Charlie’s phone vibrated. Stephen’s brother lifted his eyebrows and glanced over at Kairo. “That was fast.”
He thumbed on the call and immediately put it on speaker. Charlie didn’t even get the chance to greet him when the caller shouted.
“Where the fuck did you find those Thiago Vergaras?” the man demanded.
“Nice to talk to you. I’m assuming you met up with your boy,” Charlie replied, winking at Ehren.
“Shove the small talk, you asshole. The Vergaras. Where are they? Where are you? Who the hell has them?”
Ehren’s eyes widened and he looked over at Stephen, who was silently chuckling.
Miray cleared her throat and took a step toward the door. “I’ll leave you to your call.” She slipped out of the room, giving them some privacy.
“Hold up, Kitty Cat,” Charlie said and then jerked his chin at Kairo. The man nodded once.
“I’ll keep an eye on her. I think she’s clean, but just in case.” Kairo silently followed behind her and Ehren couldn’t blame them for the precaution. Not only were they standing in the middle of an art collection worth close to a billion dollars, but they were standing in front of some art that was making this guy totally flip out.