Chapter 46

• Dante’s POV
• The air inside the gallery is filed with the scent of fresh paint and expensive perfume. The kind of place where people pretend to care about art when all they really care about is how much it costs. The lights are dim, golden, casting dramatic shadows over the canvases and sculptures. A pretentious pianist plays something soft in the background, barely noticeable over the sound of clinking champagne glasses and murmured conversations.
• But I don’t care about any of that.