“There is no you and me.”
“I’ll be more supportive in all things, your art especially. Whatever he’s doing to help you at the winery, I’ll do ten times as much.”
I laugh without humor. “Priceless. Josh took all of thirty minutes to run his mouth to you. And you can’t do ten times what Nick does because Nick is a hundred times richer than you. Move.”
“Faith—”
“Move or I will put a knee in your groin so hard that your balls will retract and disappear.”
He reaches for my face and leans in, intending to kiss me, and I don’t hesitate. I raise my knee and I don’t hold back. He grunts and doubles over. “Fuck, Faith. You fucking bitch.” He sucks in air and straightens, leaning close again, his breath warm on my cheek. “You will pay for that. You will not get into another gallery in L.A., ever.” He turns away from me and starts walking, or rather hobbling in obvious pain.
I sink against the wall, aware that I’ve provoked the vicious monster I was trying not to provoke right up until the moment I stuck my knee in his balls. But I also know him well enough to know that he’s gone. He’s not coming back.
“What the fuck,” he growls and I look right to discover Nick is standing under the archway, his shoulder pressed against the wooden frame. “Move out of my way,” Macom orders, trapped the way I was just trapped.
“Here’s the thing, Macom,” Nick says. “No. Not until I’m ready.”
“You don’t want to fuck with me.”
“I have compromising naked photos of you,” Nick says. “I have IRS documents, bank records, and the list continues, all of which have your name on them. And if you don’t believe that I will use those things fifty ways to Sunday, you haven’t researched me the way I have researched you. Touch Faith or her career again, and I will come for you.”
They stare at each other for all of two beats, before Nick steps aside and Macom quickly leaves. I walk to Nick and he immediately folds me into his arms. “How long were you there?”
“The entire time,” he says. “And I let you handle him as you wanted to handle him, certain that he’d give me a reason to punch him. But then you went off and retracted his balls before I got the chance.”
I laugh. “I can’t believe I said that.” I cringe. “I can’t believe I told him that you’re a hundred times richer than him.”
“Why? I am.” He softens his voice. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Yes. I am. Really okay, actually. And ready to go upstairs.”
He slides his arm around my shoulder and we start walking through what looks like an empty banquet room. Thankfully we make it to the elevator without being stopped, and we wait on a car. The doors open quickly and Josh steps out. “Faith. Holy hell. I’ve been looking for you. You rocked it tonight.”
“You’re fired,” I say.
He blanches. “What?”
“You told Macom about our conversation. We’re done. I won’t change my mind.”
Nick catches the door as it tries to shut, and I step around Josh. Nick and I enter the car and when we face forward, Josh has turned and is staring into the car. Nick punches in the code to our floor and the doors shut us inside. “That was unexpected,” Nick says.
“But necessary. I’ll deal with a new agent hunt next week.”
I rotate to face the window, the stars and city lights flickering in the night sky. Nick steps behind me, holding me close. “I thought you didn’t like heights.”
“I changed my mind,” I say. “I’m not going to be afraid of anything.”
And as Nick murmurs, “Congratulations, Faith,” I feel as if the past is now behind me, and a new beginning, before me. Everything that was once wrong is now right.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Faith
The morning of the show, I’m nervous. By afternoon, I’m so high, I’m flying. Macom and Josh stay away from us and the interest in my work, and invitations to events, overflow. And Nick and I have so much fun together. Sometime around lunch we hear that the apartment is ours, and Nick takes me to an incredible restaurant to celebrate it all. On Sunday morning, we have breakfast in our room and I gift my flowers to the maid. Nick refuses to give up the chocolates and we proceed to eat most of them on the plane home.
Come Monday morning, Nick is scheduled to begin the negotiations on a merger that he warns me will make for an intense few weeks. He leaves the house wearing one of his sharpest suits, and a dark, cutting edge that says he’s already in battle mode. I am feeling rather fancy today and since a dress doesn’t make much sense for a pre-opening at the gallery, I trade in my jeans for dress pants, boots, and a soft, pink V-neck sweater that pairs with the classical flagship Chanel purse that had been in the items Nick bought me over the weekend.
I arrive at Allure with a smile on my face and a stack of cards in my pocket. I settle behind my desk to find a random list of things Sara needs to accomplish before the gallery opening, and a formal offer of employment.
Oh yes, I think. Life is good.
Sara appears in the doorway, looking adorable in jeans and Keds. “Well?” she asks, claiming the visitor’s chair in front of my desk. “How was the show?”
“Amazing. The Forum picks one up-and-comer to watch every year and they chose me.”
“Oh my God. Woohoo! I’m so excited for you. You said nothing of this when you sent me photos this weekend.”
“It just didn’t feel real,” I say. “It’s a big surreal.”
“Of course it is. Are you still riding the high?”
“In a big way and even after I fired my agent.”
“You fired your agent?”
“Yes. And it was past due. He’s my ex’s agent and it just got sticky.” I set the stack of cards on my desk. “And I have all these people wanting to buy work or book me for events. I’m going to start a hunt today.”
“Let Chris help.”
“No. No, I don’t want to intrude or seem like I’m using you, or him, for my own benefit.”
“I’ll call my agent,” Chris says, appearing in the doorway in a brown Harley shirt, after clearly hearing our conversation. “If he can’t take you on, he’ll help you find the right match.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say quickly.
“Why the hell not?” he asks. “You wouldn’t be here if we didn’t believe in you.”
Sara twists around in her chair to look at him. “She won the Forum’s up-and-comer award.”
“Not a surprise to me at all,” Chris says, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans and punching in a number. “Gabe,” he says. “Yeah, man. I have a new artist for you. I’m behind her. We’re trying to convince her to work here at Allure with us. She’s helping us launch and she’s on display here. Yes. Call her here.”
Sara holds up a hand and when Chris offers her his attention, she points to the stack of cards. “All offers she needs managed.”