ever. The great room was large and fully furnished, but Jane felt that it wasn't anybody's home. It was traditional with leather chairs, velvet sofas, and dark wood coffee tables with turned legs.
The furniture matched too well; the result of a planned design scheme rather than a collection of things from here and there. There were no ill-conceived tchotchkes on the side tables. This house felt empty, temporary. It bothered Jane. For some reason, she felt more vulnerable knowing that this house probably wasn't significant to whoever snagged her out of the museum parking garage. It was silly to think that murderers may be less inclined to kill you in their own house. Still, it bothered her to think that if she was going to be murdered here, she wouldn't even mess up the guy's favorite couch. He might lose a rental deposit, but he wouldn't be on his hands and knees with club soda and a sponge.
Lucien had edged away from Jane a little bit after their exchange. He felt uncomfortable around her, and gave into the relief of some physical separation. Lucien had seen many things in his life, but he didn't like the prospect of spending time with someone who could tell when he was lying. He had too many secrets to keep. He had to admit that his pride was also a little hurt. Lucien had lied to many people on many occasions, and he'd been able to get away with a lot.Now, this girl wouldn't let him get away with an assumed name. There had to be a trick to it. She wasn't a psychic. He had met specialists in law enforcement who could be trained to spot a lie, but he had lied to them a number of times without being caught. Either she was really good, or he was slipping. Again, he felt that he needed to overcome the sense of vulnerability that had crept into his head, a place it had never been welcome before. Lucien focused inward and ran through various scenarios that would have led to his latest abduction. He wanted to be prepared for anything.
After about fifteen minutes another man came into the room. This was obviously the man who was in charge, thought Jane. He was dressed in a tailored suit and moved with the self-assurance of someone in control of their surroundings. The large man followed him into the room and kept a respectable distance. Though he was a good four inches shorter than the large man, this man demanded attention. He was maybe fifty years old, but well groomed with a trimmed beard. With a determined gait, he came directly over to where Jane and Lucien were sitting.
âSo sorry to keep you waiting, Lucky. I was just speaking with Gerald about your friend. It was an unintended but fortunate turn of events that we could accommodate your guest. A female presence often civilizes business dealings, don't you think?â
Lucien rose calmly, as though they were in the lobby of a busy high rise to close a deal instead of the suspiciously impersonal rental with armed men. âRaleigh, any business you want to do is fine with me. I would appreciate it if we could discuss it in private, though. Jane is not privy to my methods of making money.â
Raleigh cocked his head slightly and curiously looked at Jane. âWell, that simply has to change. You lovebirds shouldn't have any secrets from each other. I think she should know why she's here. Your boyfriend sold me a wonderful painting, Jane. It was the culmination of years of searching and dealing. It also cost several million dollars of my money. Now, another private dealer has offered to sell me the painting. The same painting Jane, not a similar one or one simply by the same artist. He'd heard I'd been looking for it several years ago, which I was, until I bought it from Lucky. So, I am understandably confused as to how I can own this painting and yet have it offered tome for sale.â Raleigh's tone slipped from polite and conversational to downright pissed near the end of his speech.
âWell, this dealer is obviously offering you a fake, Raleigh.â
The furniture matched too well; the result of a planned design scheme rather than a collection of things from here and there. There were no ill-conceived tchotchkes on the side tables. This house felt empty, temporary. It bothered Jane. For some reason, she felt more vulnerable knowing that this house probably wasn't significant to whoever snagged her out of the museum parking garage. It was silly to think that murderers may be less inclined to kill you in their own house. Still, it bothered her to think that if she was going to be murdered here, she wouldn't even mess up the guy's favorite couch. He might lose a rental deposit, but he wouldn't be on his hands and knees with club soda and a sponge.
Lucien had edged away from Jane a little bit after their exchange. He felt uncomfortable around her, and gave into the relief of some physical separation. Lucien had seen many things in his life, but he didn't like the prospect of spending time with someone who could tell when he was lying. He had too many secrets to keep. He had to admit that his pride was also a little hurt. Lucien had lied to many people on many occasions, and he'd been able to get away with a lot.Now, this girl wouldn't let him get away with an assumed name. There had to be a trick to it. She wasn't a psychic. He had met specialists in law enforcement who could be trained to spot a lie, but he had lied to them a number of times without being caught. Either she was really good, or he was slipping. Again, he felt that he needed to overcome the sense of vulnerability that had crept into his head, a place it had never been welcome before. Lucien focused inward and ran through various scenarios that would have led to his latest abduction. He wanted to be prepared for anything.
After about fifteen minutes another man came into the room. This was obviously the man who was in charge, thought Jane. He was dressed in a tailored suit and moved with the self-assurance of someone in control of their surroundings. The large man followed him into the room and kept a respectable distance. Though he was a good four inches shorter than the large man, this man demanded attention. He was maybe fifty years old, but well groomed with a trimmed beard. With a determined gait, he came directly over to where Jane and Lucien were sitting.
âSo sorry to keep you waiting, Lucky. I was just speaking with Gerald about your friend. It was an unintended but fortunate turn of events that we could accommodate your guest. A female presence often civilizes business dealings, don't you think?â
Lucien rose calmly, as though they were in the lobby of a busy high rise to close a deal instead of the suspiciously impersonal rental with armed men. âRaleigh, any business you want to do is fine with me. I would appreciate it if we could discuss it in private, though. Jane is not privy to my methods of making money.â
Raleigh cocked his head slightly and curiously looked at Jane. âWell, that simply has to change. You lovebirds shouldn't have any secrets from each other. I think she should know why she's here. Your boyfriend sold me a wonderful painting, Jane. It was the culmination of years of searching and dealing. It also cost several million dollars of my money. Now, another private dealer has offered to sell me the painting. The same painting Jane, not a similar one or one simply by the same artist. He'd heard I'd been looking for it several years ago, which I was, until I bought it from Lucky. So, I am understandably confused as to how I can own this painting and yet have it offered tome for sale.â Raleigh's tone slipped from polite and conversational to downright pissed near the end of his speech.
âWell, this dealer is obviously offering you a fake, Raleigh.â
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