Rafael shot a glance towards Landon who was already trying to navigate through the obstacle course of adoring patrons that separated us. "Do you think he knows who you are?"

"His late-wife's model-turned-art thief, lesbian lover? Oh, I'm sure I was the topic of many dinner conversations."

"Artie wasn't exactly discreet with her affairs."

But he didn't need to remind me. "Do I look okay?"

The worry that wrinkled his forehead dissipated as he looked me over. "You look great, Kirby. After seven years, I was expecting to pick up a rugged prison daddy at the airport, but you walked through the gate like you were returning from a European holiday." Grabbing my shoulders, he spun me around to tuck the price tag back beneath my dress. "Did they seriously let you tan while you were locked up?"

"One of the benefits of the French prison system."

A total lie.

"Speaking of vacation, your parents are still outta town, right?" I asked to pivot the subject.

"They're staying at the villa in Taormina for the next month, yes," his voice lowered. "You know Artie took care of your debt."

"Oh, I'm aware."

Marrying Landon had fulfilled that debt. All $1.7 million of it. But that didn't mean Pino Cassini would be pleased to know I was home.

Glancing towards Landon, I caught his eye again as he tried to inch away from the older woman talking to him. "You'd think after losing his beloved muse, he'd be too heartbroken to be acting this eager," I whispered over my shoulder, but Rafael's thumbs were busy tapping the screen of his phone. "Artie's barely been in the ground for six months."

Behind me, he sucked at his teeth. "She's not exactly in the ground, Kirby."

His words caught me off guard as I slowly turned towards him. "What the hell does that even—" Linking his arm with mine, Rafael spun me back around as Landon approached us. With a sweeping grin, the handsome young art director ran a hand through his perfectly styled pompadour, pushing his blonde hair back and off to the side.

"Hey man, how are you?" Rafael greeted him. His body stiffened as he extended his hand. "It's been a minute."

"Better than I thought I'd be tonight." Shaking his hand, Landon clapped his shoulder and turned to me. "Now, who's this guest you just had to get on the VIP list at the last minute?"

"Landon, this is my dear friend, Kirby McKinley. She's been abroad, following Artie from a distance for years now, but could probably paint her blindfolded with how well she knows her form..."

Subtle, Raf.

"She's ready to start her collection and is interested in the earlier, figurative pieces. Like what you had printed on the banners outside—"

"He's exaggerating about the blindfold, but the rest is true," I laughed softly, nudging Rafael as I held my hand out to Landon. With a tight grip, he rubbed his thumb over my fingers as I tried to pull back. "It's nice to meet you, Landon, though I wish it were under better circumstances."

"After these last couple months, I've come to accept that things happen for a reason." His brows knitted with silent lament, shielding his eyes in their shadows. "I'm sure you'd rather be meeting Artemisia tonight, but if you know where to look, you still can. She's here and alive through her paintings. I hope that doesn't make me sound crazy."

"That's not crazy at all," I replied, actually agreeing with him. As I glanced over at Rafael, he forced a smile, but I knew he felt his sister's presence here as well, though it wasn't necessarily a good feeling. "Isn't that what most art is? No matter whether the creative is dead or alive, their work is just a haunting reminder of the person we knew—or thought we knew. A memento mori in itself."

Rubbing at the stubble on his chin, he nodded. "Artie would've liked you, I can already tell." The sharp edges of his mouth twisted to a grin once more. "Why don't we go grab a drink? And if you'd like, I can walk you through the show myself. I have a feeling you'll be teaching me about her by the end of it."

"I would love that. You don't mind, do you, Raf?"

He hesitated to answer, but the buzz of his phone did so for him. "No, go ahead. I'll be around."

Rafael split off from us as we entered the court. I found an empty cocktail table off to the side as I waited for Landon to get our drinks. String lights spanned overhead, creating an intimate glow, offset by the sharp spotlights focused on the artwork throughout the gallery wings.

Landon returned to my side with a single glass of wine, checking his Rolex as he handed the glass to me. "You know what? I have another two hours before I'm needed for the auction. You're interested in Artemisia's undergrad work, right? How about I give you a little behind the scenes tease of what we're auctioning off?" His eyes darted around the court then creased with a smile. He was making this too easy. "I'd love to show you if you don't mind sneaking away backstage with me."

Before I could answer, my heart began to pound against my chest. Across the court, the woman I ran into earlier stole my attention. She was engaged in conversation, but I could feel her gaze aimed my way.

Landon grabbed my wrist. "Kirby?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, that'd be super." As the woman looked our way, she smiled directly at me like she'd been waiting to catch me stealing glances. My heart continued to race as I picked up the glass of wine, taking a sip to hide behind it. She touched the other woman's arm to excuse herself, meeting my eyes again over the rim of my glass. I quickly turned back towards Landon as I gulped down a mouthful of the dry Bordeaux. "You wanna go now? Let's go now."

Too late.

For someone wanting to avoid the party, she sure found something to wear in a pinch. A slate-blue, velvet jumpsuit hugged her curves, slit from the thigh, flowing out elegantly as she walked through the crowd over to us. Her twisted locs were pulled away from her face now, wrapped half-up in a bun atop her head with the rest draping down her shoulders, tipped in a blonde ombre. The same coy smile from earlier played on her lips, feeling like both a threat and a shared secret between us.

"What a beautiful eulogy, Landon." Her eyes barely rested on him before I felt them all over me. In any other situation, I would've taken it as an invitation for the night.

"I'm surprised to see you outside of the studio, Desirae. Didn't think you'd be venturing down the hall tonight." His smooth, charming tone suddenly felt bitter and dry like the wine's aftertaste that still lingered on my tongue. His hand slipped to my lower back as he turned to me. "This is our artist-in-residence. She's reconstructing a peculiar artifact we recently discovered in the museum."

"I wouldn't necessarily call it an artifact, Landon." Her brown eyes sharpened on me again, accentuated by her long lashes. "I'm Desirae Udekwu."

As she held her hand out, her fingers struck the stem of my wine glass, sending burgundy liquid down the front of my dress. In a flurry of hands, Desirae grabbed the glass from me, setting it down as she stumbled through an exaggerated apology while Landon stripped the table next to us of its napkins.

"My goodness, I'm so clumsy and oblivious," she continued, pulling me off to the side by my waist to keep me out of the red puddle forming on the floor. "Let me help you clean up before that stain sets in. The bathrooms are back that way."

I fought hard to conceal my smile as Landon handed me a napkin.

"It's fine, really," I assured her, not wanting to lose momentum with Landon. But god dammit, I had every intention of returning the dress after tonight. "We're amongst artists, right? I'm a walking, metallic, Lee Krasner lithograph."

"I was thinking more Hermann Nitsch." Landon laughed, though neither of us reciprocated his visceral sentiment, comparing me to a canvas smeared with eviscerated animals. There was something off about this guy, and with the tension between him and Desirae, it seemed like I wasn't alone in feeling that way.

"Well, let's get you back to The Lady in Gold," Desirae insisted. "Come on."

Grabbing my hand, she tugged me away before either I or Landon could protest. We weaved around bodies in the crowd together as we headed towards the restrooms. Filling the silence between us, the low hum of conversation throughout the galleries accompanied the live string quartet in harmony.

Leaning against the wall, the security guard had his eyes on his phone. I slowed to turn left to the restrooms, but Desirae wrapped her arm around my waist and steered me back to the guard.

"The uh, bathroom is that way," I tried to tell her while keeping my head turned away.

"Oh? So you do know where it is. Good. But we're not going to the bathroom."

"Of course we aren't," I mumbled with a sigh for having fallen into her trap—though, it had led me closer to my destination I realized as I glanced down the back hall again.

I just needed to play along and find a way to get backstage.