“Put the phone down,” a cold voice instructed.

Wes slowly lowered the phone, his heartbeat racing. Each beat hit him as hard as a cannon. He’d been caught off guard. Every single lesson Hans had taught him didn’t matter now. It was too late. He’d sworn twenty-five years ago that he’d never be careless, never let his enemies find a way to get to him. But he’d grown careless. He’d been lost in his obsession with Callie and hadn’t seen the danger until it was too late. A metallic taste filled his mouth as he struggled to fight off the panic. Callie needed him to survive this so he could save her.

“Here’s how this is going to go. You give me the real Monet and I’ll tell you what she’s been poisoned with so you might be able to save her.”

“Poisoned?” The word escaped his lips through gritted teeth.

“Yes. I thought you might need the proper motivation to cooperate. Slipping her something in her drink while I was at the club was an easy solution. How does the saying go? Only fools fall in love? Consider yourself a fool.”

The confirmation that Callie had been poisoned hit Wes in the stomach, a quick jerk of his body involuntarily loosened his grip on the phone and it crashed to the floor with a dull thud. He didn’t care about the phone. All he cared about was Callie—his one darting glance down showed her unmoving body on the couch, pulling at his insides like a black hole. He would do anything to save her.

“Turn around and face me.” The voice, so dead and cold, was almost silky, like the skin of a snake.

He did as he was told and faced the man who’d threatened the only one who truly mattered in his life.

“It’s you?” He couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t Thomas Stonecypher. He’d thought it had to be. No one else had a grudge against Wes like he did. No one, except…God, I’m a fool. How did I not see what was right in front of me?

Stephen Vain III stood in the doorway and held a Beretta, aiming at Wes’s chest. He wore all black and his hands were gloved.

“Hello, Wes.” He flashed a crooked smile and leaned against the doorjamb, relaxing now that Wes was facing him.

“Vain, what are you doing?” Wes asked.

“Getting revenge.” Vain shrugged. “I lost the Camden board position because of you. The auction house was perfect to clean the money—after all, who would suspect a world-class auction house was trafficking stolen goods? After you recommended Peter Wells to the board, he got appointed and convinced the other members to make me resign. I couldn’t maintain the lifestyle I’d grown accustomed to, not when fencing the art became that much harder. I lost my advantage—and that means I lost a lot of money. Someone has to pay for that. What a shame for you to have to get so close to her, eh?” Vain waved the gun toward Callie’s prone form, his cocky attitude riling every violent instinct inside Wes to attack, but he held still. Saving Callie was his priority and he couldn’t do that if he didn’t know what Vain had given her. “But if it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else you loved, like that sister of yours.”

Wes’s fists clenched at his side. “Tell me what poison you gave Callie.”

Vain ignored him and suddenly glanced down the hall. “I’m here.” He spoke to someone outside the study.

Wes tensed, prepared for another man with a gun. But it was Corrine. She joined Vain and kissed his cheek before looking at Wes.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re surprised.” She smirked, and the iciness of her eyes sliced him to the bone. “I never really wanted you. It was only your art. Speaking of which, where is the Monet, Wes?”

“Back at the club.” He clenched his hands into fists, afraid to move. He shot a glance at Callie on the couch. “Go back to the Cuff and take it. I don’t care. Now tell me what you gave Callie.”

“She doesn’t have much time left,” Corrine added gleefully as she studied her watch. “Now stop lying to us. I heard you talking in the barn today. I know the real Monet is not the one you sent to the club.”

“The clock is ticking, Wes. The Monet or your woman. You can save only one.” Vain flicked his gun barrel at Callie.

Only one? The one piece of art he’d protect at all costs. It was an easy choice. Callie was the only masterpiece that mattered. Everything else he owned could be given away in an instant, so long as Callie was still his, and still alive. Needing her above all else was deeper than an instinct, deeper than any basic urge to have her. Like a light shining through heavy storm clouds, he understood that now. She didn’t exist to complete his soul, to make him a better man. No, he existed to complete her, to give her everything in her life and make her dreams come true. It was his true purpose, the direction his life had meant to go and Vain would not rob Callie of her future.

He was going to kill Vain and Corrine if anything happened to her.

“I have to take you to the Monet.” He reached slowly into his coat pocket for the keys and pointed across the hallway where the black room was. “It’s in there.” He shoved past them and fished out his keys, his hands strangely steady as he moved the painting of the river aside and then triggered the hidden lock. If he could get them the painting quickly, he could call an ambulance. As he opened the black room door and led them inside, Vain stayed close, but not too close that Wes could have pulled the gun from him. Of course, he wouldn’t have risked doing that. He needed to know what poison Vain had used.

“There. Take it.” He pointed at the Monet. “The real one.”

Vain handed Corrine the gun and she trained it on Wes while Vain walked up to the painting and studied it closely.

The colors, once so subtle and rich, had been a visual lullaby to him, easing an ache inside him he’d never known how to heal. That was before he’d met Callie. From the moment he’d seen her, she was like waking up from a dream and seeing reality for what it was. Brilliant smiles, tender kisses, warm bodies cuddled close by winter fires. And love. So much love that it hurt to imagine one second of a life without her. A Monet couldn’t compare to that.

“He’s right. It’s the real one.” Vain lifted the Monet off the wall hook and headed for the door. “Corrine, meet me at the car in two minutes. Only tell him about the poison after I’m out of the room.”

After Vain departed, Corrine kept her eye on her watch. When two minutes had passed, she began to back out of the room.

“Corrine!” Wes shouted, his voice breaking. “Tell me what he gave her.” He took one step forward, fear choking him. Callie was across the hall. Dying. Because he’d been a fool to underestimate the thief.

Corrine stopped at the door’s threshold, her cold eyes softening only a second.

“You really care about her. The mighty, impenetrable heart of Wesley Thorne can break after all.” She laughed. The cold sound raked over his ears.

“Please.” He would get on his knees if he needed to. He would do anything for Callie. “I love her more than anything in my entire life.” The words came out and he didn’t regret them. It took losing her to see that. He loved her. Not only that, but he belonged to her. She owned him as much as he owned her. He could never give another woman his heart.

“Jimsonweed. That’s what he slipped into her drink. She’ll need Valium if she starts to convulse. Have the doctors give her a purgative like magnesium sulfate.” Corrine backed out into the hall and then she bolted down it and out of sight.

Wes ran straight to the study and grabbed his phone. He dialed 911 and told the dispatcher to have the hospital send him a helicopter life flight. Then he wrapped a blanket around Callie and carried her from the study. He passed Bradley as he reached the front door. His butler was slowly getting up from the floor.

“Sir?” he said, voice shaky. “I think…someone is in the house. Someone came up behind me and knocked me out…I can’t remember.”