Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Boredom had driven him to take up painting and when he’d landed training under a portrait master, he found himself returning again and again to Aiden’s face. He’d spent a human lifetime staring into those beautiful eyes, memorizing the curve of his lips, the angle of his jawline. He’d wanted to immortalize Aiden’s image, to have it perfectly captured so that he could look upon Aiden whenever he was feeling lonely.
“Well then, the question is: How good of a painter were you?” Rafe asked, lowering his hand to his side.
“I was very good. I started my studies under Titian in the early sixteenth century, learning the Venetian style, before heading north. I’d been painting for nearly a century already when I started my line of portraits of Aiden.”
“The problem is,” Ethan broke in “that while humans won’t think much of the subject, it’s highly likely that vampires are going to realize that the subject of the paintings is Aiden, the new king of the Americas.”
“And that breaks one of our most basic rules—leave behind no proof of our immortality,” Winter finished coldly. “Even though Ronan is the painter and Aiden had no idea they existed, Aiden is still going to feel the backlash because the European Ministry is still being pissy about Aiden taking control over here.”
“Where are the paintings?” Bel asked.
“They’re currently being held by Christie’s in London for authentication. Afterward, they are to be auctioned off,” Ronan said.
“So far, they’ve posted only a handful of images, including two of portraits. Neither of which were of Aiden.” Ethan sighed. He shoved a hand through his hair, leaving it standing up. “Ronan’s right. He’s really good. Even without seeing them, I have a feeling they look just like Aiden.”
“Eh. Easy enough,” Rafe declared with a yawn. “Get Winter to break in and steal the Aiden portraits.”
Winter released Fox and leaned forward to glare at his brother. “Apparently you weren’t listening. He said there are a dozen Aiden portraits. Invisible or not, how the hell do you expect me to carry them out of there?”
“And not all were done on canvas. I was still experimenting on poplar wood panels at that stage. At least four were quite large,” Ronan admitted. “Some can be rolled up, but not all.”
“Fire,” Fox simply said.
“What?” At least three people screeched, making Ronan wince. He really didn’t want this conversation to grow loud enough to capture the attention of Marcus or Aiden.
“Fire?” Rafe repeated.
“Sure. Winter sneaks in and sets fire to the paintings of Aiden before they can be auctioned off. At the same time, Ethan hacks into Christie’s database and deletes the photos that were taken of the paintings, effectively erasing them from existence.” Fox winced at the end and looked up at Ronan. “Sorry.”
Ronan shook his head, waving off his apology. Losing the paintings was fine with him if it meant he got to keep the real Aiden with him.
“That would work, except for the fact that Christie’s would have an impressive fire-suppression system to protect all the works of art they store. Also, assuming I can even get that turned off, if I burn the Aiden paintings, there will inevitably be damage to the other priceless works of art,” Winter listed, causing his mate to wince.
“Okay, not fire then,” Fox muttered. Winter wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in.
“What about acid?” River offered.
Ronan groaned and covered his face with one hand.
“Hey! This is how brainstorming works. You throw out ideas until something sticks,” Ethan called out.
“Actually, acid might not be a bad idea,” Bel said. “You don’t need something too toxic. Just strong enough to react to the paint.” He paused and cocked his head as he looked at Ronan, who was peeking out between his fingers. “I’m assuming you used oil-based paint. Just a basic paint thinner would likely work. Winter sneaks in with the acid, applies it carefully to the Aiden paintings, and sneaks out again. We just need those paintings destroyed to the point of the face being unrecognizable.”
“Acid sounds like a considerable improvement over fire. Knowing Winter, he’d probably set the entire building on fire,” Rafe mocked.
“Fuck you, Rafe!” Winter snapped. “I know how to set a fire. I got Fox out of Damon’s clutches using one.”
“Yes, and Damon’s little minions were morons. One does have higher expectations for Christie’s.”
Ronan rolled his eyes. This is how most of their discussions devolved, Rafe picking a fight with one of his brothers—usually Winter—and the bickering turned into shouting until Marcus or Aiden reined them back in. He drew a breath to do just that when Rafe suddenly flew forward, stumbling to catch his balance and not land on his face. Behind him, the door burst open, and Marcus’s large body filled the frame.
“Fire and acid,” he stated in a chilly tone.