The Gallery_A Reverse Harem Romance

by Mika Lane

  “Mom, you have a great time. Do you have enough money? I can wire you some, just let me know, okay?”

  “Oh, sweetie.”

  I heard the lump catch in her throat.

  “You’ve already been so generous. I think I’m all set.”

  I loved nothing more than treating my mom. That woman had been to hell and back.

  “Okay. Well don’t hesitate to use your credit card. Buy yourself something nice, okay?”

  “Love you, sweetie.”

  “Bye, Mom.” She’d been my rock ever since my dad deserted us, and one of the high points of my life was spoiling her whenever she’d let me.

  I knew what it was like to be left with nothing. That’s why I worried about the airplane mechanics whose jobs we’d just obliterated.

  Chapter 3

  AVRIL

  “Miss, can I get you anything?” The waitress from earlier happened by while I was trying to call Devon. So I requested another gin and tonic. To avoid looking like a total wallflower, I took my drink and meandered over to the food. There was a magnificent spread of hors d’oeuvres, which included tiny oysters, stuffed squash blossoms, and something that looked like crab. No one was eating any of it.

  No one ever ate at these things. It was all just for show.

  I still hadn’t found my husband, but I wasn’t sweating it. He’d eventually show up. He’d probably planned something special, seeing as our anniversary was next week, and had gotten tied up with that. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on the amazing necklace I was not supposed to know anything about.

  I’d found it in the pocket of a jacket he’d left on the back of the sofa. I picked up after him whenever I could. There was so little housework to do because of all our staff, and I kind of missed the opportunity to nest, as my sister used to call it.

  His gifts were always so generous.

  He’d begun to woo me, just three and a half years ago, at the art gallery where I worked. On our third date, he gave me small diamond studs. At the time, I’d thought the gift was over the top extravagant and a little weird—I barely knew the guy—but my best friend Blu convinced me that it was actually a modest gift from someone of Devon’s means. After we married, he’d gotten me my own gallery.

  But tonight, he was over an hour late to the party, and to be honest, did he really plan our anniversary stuff, anyway? I suspected such tasks were carried out by someone on his admin team, and that was fine. When you’re as busy as Devon, you pay people to help you with those things. And I hoped he paid them a lot. I knew what a bear he could be when the pressure was on.

  I made a beeline across the terrace when I spotted some of Devon’s business associates.

  “Avril, so nice to see you,” one of them said, looking me up and down. What was his name? Ed?

  The others muttered their greetings.

  “Thanks. Hey, I’ve been waiting for Devon. Anybody seen him? He’s not answering his phone.”

  It was the damnedest thing, but they all just stood and looked at me. Jesus, was there something in my teeth? I glanced down at my dress again, just to make sure I wasn’t exposing myself. A couple of them cleared their throats, and they looked away.

  Where they avoiding my eyes, or was I just paranoid?

  “Okay, then. I’ll let you get back to your conversation. Sorry I interrupted.” I turned to walk away.

  The damn party was turning into a disaster.

  But I stopped when a hand landed on my arm. It was the man I’d thought was named Ed. He was short and stocky, wore penny loafers with no socks, and was the kind of guy who was probably called Flounder by his college fraternity. As I turned to face him, he didn’t remove his hand. Instead, he ran a finger down my bare arm, leaving me with the heebie jeebies.

  What the hell did he want? I stepped away from his touch.

  “Ed, right?” I asked. I’d be sure to tell Devon about him later. He hated when men hit on me, especially the ones he did business with.

  “You’re right, sweetie. You’re right.” He jiggled the ice cubes in his glass.

  I’m sweetie, now?

  “What can I do for you, Ed?” This crowd was generally very polite, especially when one had the urge to slap someone across the face. I was nothing if not a good student.

  “Well, Avril, since you’re looking for your hubby, I thought I’d help you out,” he said.

  I studied his soft, pale face. What was his deal? Was he married? I couldn’t remember.

  “How so, Ed?” I asked. I looked over his shoulder, where all the other men were watching us.

  What in god’s name was going on?

  “Look, Avril.” He tapped a finger on his lips. “Hey, what kind of name is that, anyway?”

  Was this jerk really asking me this?

  “It’s French for April,” I told him.

  His eyebrows raised. Ugh.

  “Okay, French for April. I’m not sure whether you know this or not, but I’ve done a bit of business with your husband over the years.”

  Didn’t all these people do business together, on some level?

  “Um, I don’t know any details, but yes, that sounds right? What about it, Ed?” I looked at my watch. Lisette’s watch.

  He looked back at the group he’d come from, as if to make sure they were watching.

  “You know what? I think it’s time for me to go.” I turned, but his hand gripped my forearm, locking me in place.

  “Wait, wait. I’m sorry,” he said with a grin. “I don’t mean to waste your time. I just need to talk to you.”

  “Me? You need to talk to me? Why?” I jerked my arm out of his grip as casually as I could. I didn’t want to draw attention. That is, aside from his cronies who were already watching our show.

  “Avril, I’m gonna do you a favor. Mainly because I think your husband is a goddamn, lying, cheating, fucker,” Ed said.

  Oh my god, did he really just say that?

  My face was immediately on fire, and if I didn’t sit down soon, I’d be in trouble.

  “Um…what…?” I sputtered. “Wh…what are you talking about?” I attempted to steady my voice. It didn’t work too well.

  He moved closer.

  “Avril, please forgive my foul language. I can see you’re a nice woman. But your husband is balling another woman. I probably wouldn’t share this with you if I didn’t think he was such a dick, one who deserved to suffer.”

  My gin and tonic thumped to the ground, the ice cubes rolling across the grass. I took a step back, and my skinny heel caught again. This time, Ed caught me before I tumbled over.

  “Hey, be careful. I know this is not easy to hear. But I thought you should know.” He reached into his pocket.

  “Please feel free to pass my business card on to your husband so he knows where you got this important information.” For a moment, the smug look on his face faded, replaced by compassion or pity. I wasn’t sure which. “I’m sorry. I really am,” he added.

  Lightheaded, I climbed the brick stairs toward the house in what felt like slow motion, gripping the handrail as it if were my lifeline. My legs weren’t going to carry me all on their own.

  Devon? Balling? That meant having sex, screwing, fucking, right? A woman other than me, right? My Devon? We’d been married a happy three years. No issues. None at all. Barely any fights. We’d had sex just…well, shit, I couldn’t remember.

  Putting one foot in front of the other, I wove through the throngs of well-dressed people. Left, right, left, right. If I continued like that, I’d eventually get to the driveway in front of the house, where I could find my waiting limo and get the hell out of there. I turned to see Ed and his gaggle of friends. They were back in conversation with each other, with the exception of Ed, who was watching me walk away. If I wasn’t mistaken, his doughy face looked a little sad.

  I left behind the partygoers, there to see and be seen. And in Ed’s case, to hurt, maim, destroy, and if possible, kill.

  I’d finally reached the ho
use. As I stumbled through it, a door flew open—I presume from a restroom—and the cute ponytailed waitress of earlier came rushing out, tucking in stray hairs. She looked embarrassed when I caught her eye, looked down, and dashed off. And wouldn’t you know, right behind her was a tall, good-looking man with a strong brow and a dimple in the middle of his chin. His black hair was mussed, and he was tucking in his shirt. I knew him from somewhere…

  Was everyone messing around—except for me?

  “Oh. Hello,” he said, stopping.

  Had I just caught him in a hook-up?

  “Hello…”

  “Sumner. Sumner Larlaith. It’s nice to see you.” He extended his hand. “Avril, right?”

  I was in no condition for small talk.

  “Right. Hi, Sumner, good to see you again. Enjoy the party,” I said, hustling for the door.

  How did I know that guy?

  I fumbled through my bag for my phone. I needed to call my driver. And while I was waiting—I don’t know why—I dialed Devon’s phone again, hoping against hope that Ed had been wrong, or just plain mean.

  Or both.

  Chapter 4

  CHASE

  God, was I glad to be back home, and for having spent the night in my own bed. Manhattan was funny that way. Once you were hooked on it, you hated being away from it. I mean, the Hamptons were great and all, but they weren’t the city.

  It had been another boring-ass Hampton’s party with the guys—same people, same cocktails, same conversation. I wasn’t sure why I did it to myself, going to these things, especially when I had something much more important waiting for me at home, except that the rest of my buddies thought it was really important. The two hours it took to get there and back really threw off my schedule. And yeah, it was good to hang with my business partners, but I spent too many of my waking hours with them, anyway. However, when you’re ambitious like we were, you had to be sure to keep your name and face in front of the people who mattered.

  Even if, in a perfect world, they wouldn’t normally give you the time of day, and vice versa.

  I had an hour or so before I had to leave for the office that morning, so after my workout and shower, I pulled on some sweats and a T-shirt. I settled onto the sofa with some coffee and the New York Post, although I didn’t count on being able to read much of the paper. My eight-month-old, Ruby, would be stirring in her room, and the nanny would be bringing her out to me shortly. The highlight of my day, really, laying eyes on my beautiful daughter. But until she was in my arms, I flipped to the page where my team and I had been interviewed about last week’s business deal. I wanted to see what the Post had to say.

  They placed us in a little section that usually featured the city’s up-and-comers, complete with a crappy black and white photo of me and the guys. We did look like the young masters of the universe we fancied ourselves as, which would make Smith, Ashera, and Gio very happy. Sumner could take or leave that sort of thing. He thought that stuff was pure vanity. I’d always figured his perspective was the result of being a senator’s son and always being in the spotlight—or in his case, always on the edge of the spotlight. But I didn’t ask. It was better not to.

  I knew he’d been tweaked that someone at the party had asked him about his dad, U.S. Senator Victor Larlaith. I’d cringed when I overhead the conversation. The poor bastard couldn’t seem to go a week without someone connecting the two of them and jumping to the conclusion that they were a real family. I’d heard bits and pieces of the story about how the senator flat-out dumped Sumner and his mother, and yet, the questions about his father dogged him, each time re-opening a wound he probably would have liked to heal.

  From what I’d heard, the man had left them for his secretary when Sum was small. Apparently, he’d paid only the bare minimum child support back then, which hadn’t amounted to much because at the time he’d been managing a moderately successful car dealership in New Jersey. He worked his way up the ranks in local politics, though, and ended up owning several dealerships before heading to Washington as a senator. The child support payments had increased, but his visits had not. Sum did tell me once that he’d gotten only one birthday card from his father in his whole life.

  As the nanny placed Ruby in my arms, and I gazed down at her perfect little face, I couldn’t imagine walking out on my kid. Ever.

  Men did some fucked up things. But so did women. Particularly Ruby’s mother. She’d bailed when out baby was only two months old. Our relationship had been a rocky one, so it was no surprise that we split. And if she could walk out on her kid that easily, good riddance to her.

  So I could really understand why Sum chafed when people put them together, and even more so when they assumed his success was owed to his being a senator’s son.

  Which it was not. He, like the rest of us, earned every goddamn penny we had with no help from anyone.

  The happy buzz I’d earned from my workout had drifted away, but came flooding back as soon as my squirmy girl was in my arms. She smelled like fresh, clean baby, thanks to the nanny. As I fed with her, I flicked on the TV to keep more news running in the background. I clicked channels and stopped on an image of the black-haired woman I’d seen at the Hamptons party—the one who’d been sitting alone, fiddling with her phone. If I remembered correctly, she didn’t seem to be having much fun, and now I could see why. Her husband was the Devon Crane, one of the biggest wheelers and dealers in Manhattan, and it seemed he’d just dumped her ass.

  I didn’t get why this was on cable news. After all, didn’t couples break up all the time? But as the story continued, I learned he was also under investigation by the district attorney for some sort of pyramid investment scheme.

  Holy shit.

  His wife, or ex, or whatever she should be called, was absolutely stunning, and for the few seconds she was on my TV screen, I couldn’t move. Avril. That was her name. She had glorious long hair and big, dark eyes. Kind of exotic looking, actually.

  I put on my earpiece while I continued feeding Ruby, and dialed my friend, Blu.

  “What?” he said, yawning. “Why the hell are you calling me so early, Chase? Don’t you know how important beauty sleep is to gay men?”

  Eh. I didn’t feel so badly. First, it was seven a.m., so not obscenely early, and second, it wasn’t my fault Blu was a night owl.

  “Blu, wake up. Seven a.m.’s not that early. Get your butt out of bed.” He was one of my best friends from college, and every aspect of his life was high drama since he’d come out of the closet. As if we hadn’t all known he was gay back then, anyway.

  Over the phone, I heard something rustle. I knew what that meant.

  “Chase,” he said, as a door clicked in the background. He continued in a low voice, “My date from last night is still over, and he’s looking very cute, snoring ever so lightly, so you’d better make this fast. My morning missile is ready to go.”

  “Jesus, down boy. You act like you don’t get laid every day of your life.” I’d have to clean up my language before Ruby started talking, the nanny constantly reminded me. Otherwise, I’d have a little cutie with a big, filthy mouth. Just like her papa.

  “It’s none of your business how often I get laid, although I could swear I hear some resentment coming out of that heterosexual mouth of yours. I’ve told you before, it’s easier to get dick than pussy. You could always come play for my team.” He snickered.

  “Thanks, man. I appreciate the offer. It’s really tempting.”

  He never gave up.

  I suppressed a snicker. “Look, I’ll make it quick so you can get back to your stud. Aren’t you friends with the wife of Devon Crane?”

  “You better fucking bet I am. Avril Crane is my best girl. If I wasn’t a fag, I’d be getting in her pants.”

  “I’m sure she’d love to know that.”

  “She does know! I tell her all the time. Anyway, what about her?” he asked.

  “I just saw on the news that she and her husband are splitting.
” I no sooner had the words out and he screamed loudly enough to split my eardrum. I think the baby even heard it. Her eyes had popped wide open.

  “NO FUCKING WAY. Oh my god oh my god oh my god. I gotta call her. I’ll talk to you later.” And he was gone. So much for his date.

  I hadn’t told him Crane was also under investigation, but I figured he’d hear that soon enough for himself.

  I moved on to another call. It wouldn’t be too early for the next guy. We were both early risers.

  “Gio. How you doin’ man?” I asked when he’d picked up.

  He was just as chipper as Blu had been groggy.

  Ruby had finished her bottle and was smacking her lips, all milky and delicious. I hated to do it, but I handed her over to the nanny. She’d bring her by my office later, so I could give her another bottle and play with her while I was wheeling and dealing.

  One of the many advantages of being one of the bosses at work was that if I wanted to spend time my baby, you’d better goddamn believe I would do just that.

  “Buongiorno, brother,” Gio said. He’d been away from Italy for a long time but would never stop trying to teach me, and the rest of the guys, his beautiful language. He’d been working on us since college, and all these years later, I was able to say about five words, which was more than the others could, put together.

  “I know you’re at the office already, but I was hoping you could switch gears for a sec. What sort of shape are we in for tonight?” I asked.

  Papers rustled in the background, and I heard tapping on a keyboard.

  “Let’s see. Here we go. We have about one hundred fifty guests for the party,” he reported.

  “Wow. That’s good stuff.” With that many people, we were at capacity, but we always made room for extra women if they really wanted in. It was the least we could do.