Sealed With a Kiss

Fourteen

XIV: Worth

AFTER DAHLIA STOMPED AWAY and effectively putting a damper on the lively mood, we all excused ourselves to "freshen up" in our rooms.

I currently lay staring up at the ceiling on my back, my ankles crossed and my hands neatly folded over my abdomen. I was bored out of my mind but I was too afraid to call Elle or Hannah. I'm sure they're busy planning the engagement party Isobel insisted on throwing this weekend, or even trying to do damage control of the Black Dahlia Situation as I've come to call it.

Eventually, I grew restless watching a blank ceiling and stood. Pacing, I thought of the possible cons of leaving the room but ruled that this boredom far outweighed the consequences of running into someone whom I'll act socially inept to.

Pulling open my door and stepping out, I made sure to take deliberate steps so the impeccable floor boards didn't creak under my weight. I'd long ago changed out of the heels into white leather loafers so there was no noise as I crept down the corridors.

I passed a few rooms, all of them closed that made the hallway look endless. I was walking so mindlessly that I almost missed it, a thin and narrow curving staircase in the middle of the corridors, the entrance hidden between two doors on the wall.

I've seen enough scary movies to know I should just ignore the discovery and keep on my way but the dimly lit stairs beckoned.

Looking around to confirm that I was alone in the corridor, I took the narrow steps up and followed the yellow light from above.

My feet touched the carpeted flat floor and I nearly gasped when I saw it. Hanging on the wall of this hidden chamber was a most astounding sight I almost tripped running to get a closer look.

The soft yellowed bulbs in the room produced just enough light to illuminate the room and the gilded golden frame that held a painting so lusted after in the art world it could easily sell for eighty million. Last I'd heard this particular piece had been owned by a corportation and kept in a safe never to see the light of day. This particular one could be a copy, even a forgery, but it looked so real.

I took a step forward and lightly traced the frame. The painting had been cut from the orginal canvas to fit into the frame, a tragedy in itself, but when I leaned forward to look for the nearly illegible signiture of Pablo Picasso, I heard a noise behind me.

"It's real."

I gasped and spun around to find Scott sitting with a book in the corner, practically hidden in the shadows. Clutching my hand to my heart I gave a shaky laugh, "Sorry, I didn't see you."

He closed his book and placed it on the end table besides him in the armchair. Scott nodded. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

I leaned against the wall next to the painting and crossed my arms over my chest, "So were you there that entire time?"

His lips curved into the ghost of a smile, "I was."

I raised an eyebrow, "And you figured you'd wait and try to give me a heart attack?"

Scott leaned his elbows on his knees, "I just wanted to see what you were going to do."

"Why?"

He shrugged, "You can tell a lot about a person by their behavior when they think no one's around."

I pushed my glasses up my nose and looked away, "What's your conclussion then?"

"I think you know the painting. A lot about it actually." I nodded once. I'd written an entire twenty page paper on Picasso's Blue collection, and the Les Noces de Pierrette, my favorite of his earliest work, was my main focus.