CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
VICTORIA
I squint as the artificial lights turn on and flood into my sensitive eyes. It takes me a few seconds to adjust to my surroundings, and what I have to do. The society, or rather the incumbent Duke of Oakfield, wants me to steal a painting, and he’s talking to me through an earpiece. My heart beats fast. I can’t do this. I’m not a thief and wouldn’t have the first clue on how to steal a painting and get away with it. I could stand there and appreciate the brushstrokes for hours, but other than that, I’m probably screwed.
The world comes into focus and my breath hitches. I know exactly where I am. I’m back in my home, well, in the vaults underneath, which my father uses for a safe. It dawns on me what’s going on, and just what picture I need to steal. When I first became interested in art, my father took me to a sale at Sotheby’s in London. I fell in love with the place and the notion that decent paintings could be sold in this manner. Up until that point, all of the art that I’d researched was primarily on the walls of museums. We’d walked around for hours looking at the pictures, but every time I came back to the same one. A Van Gogh painting of roses. It wasn’t a prestigious one in the art world, but I fell in love with it. When the auction started, I stood in shock and watched as my father bought it for me. I can’t remember the exact price, but it was a lot of money. At the time, I thought I was a fortunate girl and had a father who worshipped me. I know better, now. My father doesn’t have much other valuable artwork, mostly paintings of ancestors by obscure artists from the time, but the Van Gogh will be the one I’m here to steal. Oh, the irony, I have to take a painting that already belongs to me. I should call out for my father and demand he opens the safe, so I can walk out of here with it. But I suspect that’s not the game the Duke of Oakfield wants to play.
I shut my eyes and try to think back about the security system my father has. I know it's state of the art because the vaults contain family jewels worth a lot more than the painting. Lasers are protecting the area around the safe, and there's a code to get into it. I know the code by heart. It’s the date that he made his debut for the English polo team. He was a phenomenal player in his youth — he still is. Shame I’ll never get to see it again, not that I want to. I grind my teeth together in anger. When I get out of this, I’m going to talk to Nicholas about confronting my father and making him pay. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and my daddy will reap what he sowed. But for now, I need to figure out how I can get past these lasers, which, should I touch one, will lock down the room and call security guards to arrest me.
Thankfully, the Duke dressed me appropriately. I’ve got a black cat suit on. It’s all very Catherine Zeta-Jones in the film where she tried to steal artwork. I’m pretty confident that to be a member of this society, which Nicholas will one day rule, you have to think with your dick, not your brain. It must be in the initiation process — if you can pass a math’s test you are out, but if you can drool over a topless woman and masturbate in a room full of strangers, then you’re a candidate for membership. My temper is rising. I want to damn them all to hell, but for now, I have to play the game. Thankfully, I’ve done Yoga and Pilates ever since I can remember — I’m flexible and have good balance. I get down on the floor. The first laser beam — I know it to be about hip height. I slide under it and over to the left, as the next beam dissects from a ninety-degree angle to the right. I get to my feet and step over the third, which is only ankle height but awkward because another beam comes straight down to it from the roof. I have to press myself against the wall to pass it.
I stop to get my breath. I don’t know how, maybe it’s because the Duke is twisted, but I know Nicholas is watching me. I can sense it in my body. I duck under a head height beam. My back still aches a little from the beating I received, and I’m a bit stiff from my exploits with Nicholas last night, but I’m determined to do this, to show the Duke he'll not win. I have three beams left. I shut my eyes and picture them. One on my left dissected by a waist height barrier and the last one coming down from the right. I can’t help it — my hands start to shake. My father always said that his guards will ask questions, only, after they shoot whoever tries to steal from his vaults. I have to get this right, or I could gain yet more wounds, which might not heal as well as the physical and emotional ones that I already have. I take a deep breath and maneuver my body through the last three lasers. I make it. I want to jump and shout but decide on quiet being the better course of action. With shaking fingers, I enter the code into the safe door, and it opens. I’m so nervous that a fine layer of sweat has appeared on my body, and the sound of my teeth chattering together, fills the room. I inch into the room and past my family heirlooms. I’m tempted to take them with me to spite my father, but that would only hurt my brother in the long run. God, I hope that Theo doesn’t know about the society. I don’t think I could bear knowing that he’s a part of it. I continue past the jewelry to where the picture is hung on the wall. I take both sides of it.
“Is this what you want, Your Grace? You going to put it in pride of place next to the stolen poppy picture? or with some of your other ill-gotten gains?”
Laughter echoes in my ear.
“I see my son is a talker during sex.”
“No, not during. He’s just got manners and talks to a lady after he’s fucked her into oblivion. Mind you, I believe you just fuck a lady into a hospital.” I’m finished with the politeness. “I’ve done what you’ve asked. I have the picture — now, get me out of here and let me see Nicholas. Your time as the Duke is over, retire quietly, and I’m sure we won’t destroy everything you’ve worked for.”
“You don’t have the picture, yet,” he retorts with a gravelly malevolence.
I pull the picture off the wall, and an alarm sounds.
Shit!
I’ve messed up badly. I forgot the hidden wire over the front of the picture. The vault door slams shut. I drop the picture to the floor and wait for my death.