章 13: A Touch Of Warmth.

Achille squeezed his eyes shut, a furrow creasing his brow. He pulled away from Bianca, a reluctant sigh escaping his lips. He couldn't tear his gaze from her, even as he distanced himself. Bianca's eyes widened, a flicker of confusion dancing in their depths.

"Excuse me, signorina," Achille murmured, his voice a smooth caress laced with steel. "This isn't right. I should take my leave." He retreated with measured steps, the weight on his shoulders suddenly oppressive.

'Did I mess up the whole seduction?' Bianca fretted, watching his retreating figure. Those damned souls, they were back, clinging to him like phantoms. 'Did they vanish when I touched him?' she wondered, glancing at her hand as if seeking an answer.

Achille stalked towards the grand entrance, the weight on his shoulders a physical burden. This unwelcome sensation, this delicious pull towards Bianca, was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Yet, a wry smile touched his lips. It felt as if that weight had momentarily vanished when their skin met. With a sigh that rattled his chest, he reached the ballroom doors. There, Ariana scanned the room frantically, her manicured hand clutching a pearl necklace.

Disgust contorted Achille's features. 'Looking for me, is she?' He thought as he immediately recoiled from the doors, the gilded extravagance suddenly suffocating.

Slipping out into the cool night air, he made his way towards a car parked by the curb. The backseat window rolled down, revealing Lorenzo's gleaming grin.

Achille shook his head, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, and climbed into the car.

Lorenzo's grin widened further as he asked, "So, tell me, cugino, how did it go?"

"The painting is secured," Achille replied, his voice a nonchalant drawl.

"And the cost?" Lorenzo pressed, his grin morphing into a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Achille met his gaze, a hint of disdain flickering in his dark eyes. "A mere ten billion valori, perhaps."

"Ten billion!" Lorenzo exclaimed, his jaw dropping. Silence descended upon the car as the enormity of the sum sunk in. "Even I," he finally admitted, a touch of defeat lacing his voice, "didn't think you were capable of such extravagance."

"Damn it!" Achille scowled, a dark cloud forming over his brow. "I was prepared to shell out a few valori, but that pompous peacock, Leopold, just had to ruffle his feathers and drove up the price. Couldn't let the insufferable fop steal the show, could I?" He crossed his arms and glared out the window.

Lorenzo chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Leopold, you say? Sounds typical for my dearest cugino."

Achille bristled, his cheeks flushing a touch crimson. "What are you on about? Unlike me entirely. The man was an utter buffoon..." His voice trailed off as the penny finally dropped. Leopold. The infuriating dandy he'd known since their schoolboy days. A familiar irritation sparked within him.

Achille shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. Lorenzo's laughter only fanned the flames of his amusement. "Enough chatter," he declared. "Let's head back to the villa, shall we? My prize should have arrived by now."

"Consider it done, Signore Roberto," Lorenzo called to the chauffeur.

Roberto nodded and started the car. The engine hummed to life, whisking them away from the opulent confines of the Moretti estate.

As the cityscape gave way to rolling vineyards bathed in the golden glow of twilight, a stray thought flickered across Achille's mind: Bianca. Her touch still lingered, a warmth that surprised him. Maybe, just maybe, tonight wasn't a complete disaster after all. He found a faint smile playing on his lips, a sight that left Lorenzo, who glanced at Achille for a short period of time, blinking in disbelief.

'Is that... a smile?' he muttered.

***

The moonlight bled through the heavy drapes of Achille's study, casting long shadows that danced across the worn leather sofa. Valentina was perched on the edge, her eyes glued to the canvas sprawled on the table before them. Enzo seated opposite her, cradled a human skull possessively, its vacant sockets glinting ominously in the lamplight.

Achille, who sat beside Valentina, cleared his throat. "Any insights, Lorenzo?" His voice, though a mere murmur, resonated with the quiet authority of a man accustomed to getting his way.

Lorenzo, crouched closer, his fingers tracing the canvas. "Nothing for now," he muttered. "The artist is a sly devil, hiding their signature in plain sight, like a sly fox in a vineyard."

Valentina's brow furrowed. "They say some secrets are best kept in the shadows," she mused.

Enzo scoffed, a harsh sound that echoed in the stillness. "Secrets are for fools. What good is a hidden signature?" His voice, a gravelly rasp.

Lorenzo shot him a withering look. "Perhaps you should lend your 'eagle eye' to something more productive than gawking like a lost tourist," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Enzo's face contorted, his jaw clenched as his golden eyes flashing. The skull in his hands seemed to respond, its empty sockets glowing a faint golden as its teeth sharpened "My eyes see all, cugino," he growled. "And all I see is a wasted effort. There's nothing there."

"Typical braggadocio," Lorenzo retorted, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. "All bark and no bite, like a paper tiger."

Before the simmering tension could erupt, Achille slammed his fist on the table. The sound cracked like a gunshot, silencing the room instantly. "Enough! We have bigger fish to fry than your petty arguments."

Lorenzo and Enzo simmered, exchanging hostile glances before settling back.

Valentina, unfazed, continued to examine the painting. Her gaze swept over the canvas, lingering on the intricate brushstrokes and the play of light and shadow. "Perhaps the answer lies elsewhere," she mused. "Has anyone considered the back of the painting?"

Lorenzo, chastened, nodded curtly. He carefully lifted the canvas, its weight a testament to its age. They examined the back with a scrutinizing eye, searching for any hidden inscription or mark. Achille ran his calloused fingers over the worn wood, his touch as light as a whisper.

"Nothing as well," he finally sighed, a hint of disappointment lacing his voice.

Valentina set the canvas back on the easel with a sigh. "It seems the artist truly craved anonymity more than fame," she concluded, a note of frustration creeping into her voice.

Achille stroked his chin, his brow furrowed in thought. "This may require a different approach," he muttered, his gaze flickering between the painting and his companions.

"Perhaps a consultation with an expert," Enzo offered, a grudging respect in his voice. "Someone with a keen eye for the nuances of artistic expression."

Valentina's eyes lit up. "An excellent idea, Enzo."

Reaching for the phone on the antique desk, she dialed a number, her fingers drumming a staccato rhythm. The phone rang twice before a crisp, professional voice answered.

"Dr. Vittoria Caruso," the voice announced. "How may I be of service?"

Valentina then spoke through the phone. "Dr. Caruso," she began, her voice a smooth blend of courtesy and command. "This is Valentina Rossi. I wouldn't dream of interrupting, but a matter of some urgency has arisen."

A pregnant pause hung in the air before a voice, as effervescent as a prosecco fountain, bubbled through the receiver's end. "mia sorella ! What a delightful surprise! Tell me all, cara, what artistic conundrum has befallen you?"

Valentina chuckled. "The culprit, is a rather enigmatic painting. Acquired at auction, it possesses undeniable charm, yet stubbornly refuses to reveal its creator's identity. No signature, no markings, nada. I was hoping your discerning eye might unveil the maestro behind the masterpiece."

Dr. Caruso's voice suddenly took on a professional edge. "My dear Valentina, leave the mysteries to me! When can I lay eyes on this artistic enigma? My schedule is as flexible as a ballerina, but for you, mia sorella, I can make time appear faster than a car on the highway."

Valentina glanced at Lorenzo, who, with a knowing nod, excused himself with a murmured, "I will leave a word with Roberto."

"At your earliest convenience," Valentina replied, a hint of urgency creeping into her tone. "Perhaps even now? I can arrange for a car to collect you immediately."

A delighted squeal erupted from the receiver. "Consider it done, mia sorella! An hour, tops. I'll be there fast!"

Valentina hung up, a flicker of hope dancing in her eyes.

Achille, a flicker of relief chasing away the worry lines etched on his face, leaned back in his chair. "Excellent, Valentina. Now, let's prepare for her arrival. "

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