by Nana Malone
“That’s my daughter for you. She’s full of hidden talents. I’m just so relieved she found something that worked for her. I was getting very worried that she wouldn’t settle on a career at all and insist on being a perpetual student. “
“Mom!” Jessica frowned as she gave a shake of her head.
Mia’s eyes went wide. “Well, it’s true, darling. I mean, how many post graduate degrees do you need? At least now that she has a career, we can focus on her finding someone and not dying alone.”
Eli frowned. Degrees, as in plural? Jessica was full of surprises. He’d have to do some more digging on her. No you won’t, you idiot. Women hate that controlling shit. He ground his teeth and tried to focus on the excellent steak one of the maids had placed in front of him.
***
Things finally calmed down for the next thirty minutes as Jessica played interference and volleyed probing questions about their relationship.
Occasionally, Eli would chat with one of the other artists at the table. There was a sculptor there as well as another painter. The final was a performance artist. There was also a gallery owner and another manager present, but Mia kept him in the hot seat with Jessica trying to distract her.
“Jessica mentions that you’re engaged. Where’s your fiancé tonight?”
Beside him, Jess went stiff. He plastered his hand on her knee and squeezed to keep her quiet. If her mother was busy talking about her fiancé, she couldn’t be probing the two of them about their relationship, and she couldn’t probe him about his career as an artist. Funny thing—this was exactly the kind of interaction Samson would have loved. He’d have charmed Mia and steered her the direction he wanted, which was usually himself. Eli usually didn’t give a shit enough to bother.
“Oh, my fiancé couldn’t be—”
“Mia, love where are you?”
Jessica groaned as Mia’s face lit up like the star on top of a Christmas tree.
“Looks like he made it after all,” Mia said. “Darling, we’re in here. You’re just in time for dessert.”
Michael Fenton strode in confidently. He halted in the doorway, his eyes surveying the scene. When his gaze landed on Eli, he froze.
Eli studied him, frowning. The man looked familiar. His brain whirred as it tried to determine where he knew him from.
It took four long seconds, but Michael finally gained his composure and entered the room. “My God. Samson Marks. You’re a bit of a legend in this house.” Stepping right up to Eli, he pumped his hand vigorously. His stance was open, both hands clasped around Eli’s, big smile, even his eyes crinkled. But the gesture felt insincere. The big smile was in place, but the creasing around his mouth was a little unnatural, and the creasing around his eyes also looked forced, like the smiles little children gave camera-toting relatives when they knew they were supposed to smile pretty for the camera.
Eli returned the handshake. “It’s nice to meet you. Jessica mentioned that you and Mia are headed to the altar.”
Michael Fenton stood behind his fiancée and immediately intertwined their hands. Was that for his benefit or Jessica’s?
Eli’s brain finally finished processing. He knew where he’d seen Michael Fenton before. He studied the older man. His hair was darker now, salt and pepper, and he had also grown a beard, but there was no denying it. Michael Fenton was the same man from the photographs Vince had shown him. Adrenaline coursed through Eli like it did when he discovered a forgery or was on retrieval duty. As soon as he could, he had to put in a call to the office.
“Michael, Mom said you first introduced her to Eli’s work. I can’t thank you enough. He’s a terrific artist,” Jessica said through gritted teeth.
Michael’s eyes went wide. “Eli?”
Shit, was that suspicion on his face? Who was this guy? Eli leaned forward. “It’s my middle name. I prefer to separate my real life and the persona.”
Fenton visibly relaxed. “I’ve seen you paint before, you know?”
“Is that right? Where?”
“Just this grotty show you did in San Francisco.”
Eli knew every exhibition his brother had ever done. He’d been his brother’s keeper for longer than he cared to remember. Sam had never done a show in San Francisco. But he had gone to a rehab facility there. “You mean the one in Sacramento? I’ve never done an exhibition in the city.” Who was this douche bag, and why was he testing him? Did he know? He tried for a modulated tone when he said, “I have to thank you, too.” He said smoothly. “Without Jessica, I’d still be trying to break into this market. You single handedly have helped catapult my career, and I can’t thank you enough.”
Michael nodded absently. “Mia said Jessica needed some clients, and I love your work. “
“Oh really, which piece is your favorite?”
“Well, I have to say I’ve been a fan of your work for years. Even before you took a break from painting. I’ve tried to dig up any scrap of work you’ve done. There was one called ‘Equilibrium,’ about two brothers—the style was so memorable of Jackson Pollock. God, it could have been Pollock. I love that one.”
Eli froze. Was that supposed to be some kind of hint? Through a tight jaw he said, “It’s been a long time since I painted that.”
Fenton smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Come on, son. Don’t be modest. You had a certain knack for mimicking the greats. I would swear I’ve even seen a Picasso you painted before. For exhibition purposes, of course.” Fenton’s apparent good humor held the trace of malice.
Jessica placed a hand on his thigh. “I had no idea, Eli. Can I see that earlier work? I might be able to use it for promotion.”
Panic seized him. Just want he needed: Jessica advertising that Samson had been a forger once. Sam’s career would be over before it even began.
Eli cleared his throat. “They were all destroyed in a fire.” Everything that hadn’t been taken into evidence had.
Fenton shook his head, then leveled a direct gaze at Eli. “That’s a real shame. You had some kind of raw talent. Given your years of experience, I’d love to see what you could do with a Picasso now. I mean do you ever get tempted to copy one? Just to see if you can do it again?”
Eli narrowed his eyes at the asshole. Shit. Sam’s cover was blown. Eli didn’t know how, but Michael Fenton knew about Sam’s past. Worse, he seemed to be goading him, probing to see if he was still forging. Was Samson tied up with Fenton somehow? Could Sam be involved in his current con schemes? Eli wracked his brain trying to think of the cities Vince had rattled off and the years. There had been some overlap as Samson had tried to get his career started again. Was it possible?
Eli steered the conversation in another direction and had Jessica pick up the slack for him as the group started discussing the upcoming shows.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket under the table and sent Vince a quick text: Looks like I found your con man. I’ll call you as soon as I leave the dinner.
As he slid his phone back into his pocket, Destiny Shane, another artist manager sidled up to him. Immediately, Eli’s gaze found Jessica. She was across the room engaged in a conversation about her gallery with one of the other artists.
“You know, you’re a very difficult man to get ahold of,” Destiny said.
“Well, I have a show to prep for, so I spend most of my time painting.” Sam had mentioned she’d called the studio several times, wanting an appointment. “I take it there’s something you want to discuss with me?”
“Of course, silly.” She placed a hand on his arm, and he glanced at it as she massaged his forearm. He wasn’t a fan of random strangers touching him. “I was just saying to Michael that I would love to do some work with you. Something, anything. Introduce you around definitely. He suggested just today that we could perhaps work together on a small project or something.”
Eli frowned. Michael’s suggestion, was it? “You know I’m represented by Jessica, right?” He stared down at her hand pointedly.
&nbs
p; She immediately removed it. “Of course, and I wasn’t trying to tread on your business relationship. I just think, in the world today, you can’t have too many people working in your corner.”
“Right. I’m just one of those kinds of people who likes things a little clear cut, so tell you what? Why don’t you call Jessica, and you guys can brainstorm some ideas, and she’ll discuss with me. If I’m interested, the two of you can work it out,” he said with a smile meant to convey that he would only work with Jessica directly. Poaching of clients happened all the time in the art world, and he didn’t plan on doing that to Jess.
“Yeah, uh, that sounds like a plan,” Destiny stumbled. “I uh, actually have a benefit I’m doing at the end of next week. Maybe you both will be in attendance?”
“Sounds like something fun. Just give Jessica a call.”
Destiny didn’t look particularly thrilled that he’d given her the brush off, but she would have to get over it. She was clearly trying to steal him, and he wasn’t a fan of her tactics.
His train of thought stumbled as the light in the living room caught on Mia’s gold bracelet. Michael absently fingered the delicate piece of jewelry.
Staring at the jewel, Eli murmured, “Mia, what a beautiful bracelet. Where did you get it?”
She beamed. “Michael gave it to me as a present.”
“It’s been in my family for years and years.” Michael draped an arm around his fiancée’s bare shoulders.
Bullshit. Eli had seen that bracelet before. It was a near perfect match for the one he’d seen in Vince’s file. It was possible he was wrong. Jessica’s mother wasn’t exactly the kind to pull off a jewelry heist. But her slick fiancé—he was trouble. Eli just had to find a way to tag him.
Jessica leaned in. “I’ve had enough for one night, if you’re ready to go.”
Eli’s body tensed in anticipation. It didn’t matter that he knew it was a bad idea, he wanted her. “Yeah, I’m done, too. I’ll be right here.”
As she went to get her purse, he stepped away from the crowd to answer his buzzing phone. “Vince, I can’t talk right now.”
“Dude, just tell me what the fuck is going on.”
Eli lowered his voice. “Look. I’ve got eyes on your con man. I still need his real alias.”
“Are you sure it’s him?”
“Affirmative.”
“Hot shit. Can you get a photo?”
“Yeah, I’m on it.”
“This could finally be the break we’ve been waiting for. E, you are something else. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything yet. Let’s just get something airtight on him.”
***
Nothing says disaster better than a failed dinner party. Jess knew what her mother was like, but she’d opted to try this anyway. Of course, Mia hadn’t been able to see Eli as just another artist; she’d seen him as prey for her daughter. Oh, not in a malicious sense, but in a sense that she knew what men wanted, and he was prime pickings for her unmarried daughter.
Eli, for his part, had been every bit the well behaved escort, looking more businessman than artist. He was impeccably groomed in his Armani slacks and vest. He didn’t even have a hair out of place. It had irritated her when she’d seen him all buttoned up. It reminded her of the night they’d spent together. Immediately her skin grew hot and prickled at the memories of him reaching up under her dress and stroking her flesh, all the while remaining seemingly unaffected. Or so she’d thought. He might have looked in control, but she’d learned quickly enough that beneath the polished exterior was a sexual wild man waiting to get out. Underneath the pinstripes lay the wild and earthy artist. Both men were a deadly combination for her. But it was not like she could very well walk away from him.
“Sassy, are you all right? You’re looking flushed,” he asked. His voice was warm, melted chocolate to her senses and made her want to lick him all over. Dinner had been an exercise in self-control.
Quickly, she went back to the dining room and scooped up her phone from the table. She checked the messages, frowning. Nothing. Damn, she’d thought the special, up-and-coming artist pitch she’d sent to the Tenman Museum would have garnered a bite for Eli’s work.
Cursing her stilettos, she grabbed her purse in the study. Through the slightly ajar door, she heard Michael speaking to someone on the phone.
“You can imagine my surprise when I walked in to find him sitting at the dinner table. It was your job to keep an eye out for him. I don’t want to be surprised by shit like that again.”
Jessica froze. What the hell was going on? Who the hell had Michael been talking to? And how did he know Eli? Even more important, why did he have someone tracking Eli’s movements? One thing was sure, Jessica would cut off her stiletto-clad feet before she let her mother marry this asshole.
***
“So, where do you know Michael from again?”
Eli’s senses were on alert; Jessica was on a fishing mission. He started the car and easily maneuvered around a rain-filled pothole as his windshield wipers worked furiously to sluice the rain away. “I don’t. Tonight was the first time I’ve met him.”
Her silence spoke volumes. She was never quiet. Since he’d met her, she always seemed to have something to say, unless her mouth was otherwise occupied. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Given her present mood, allowing his fantasies to take over would be a bad call. “Why do you ask?”
She sucked on her bottom lip, and Eli fought a groan. She was so damn sexy without trying.
“It just seemed like he knew you.”
“Never laid eyes on him.” Eli needed information of his own on Michael Fenton. If Jessica was willing to help, then fair enough. “He was wrong about the show in San Francisco, too. I’ve never done an exhibit in the city.” As soon as Jessica was safely ensconced at her house, he’d be giving Vince a call first, then Sam. It was time they worked out a few things.
From the corner of his eye he watched as a frown marred her smooth forehead.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong? I get the impression tonight wasn’t that fun for you.”
“What? No. It was, and thanks for doing it. I overheard something when I went to get my purse, and I’m trying to make sense of it.”
Maybe today was his lucky day. “What did you hear?”
Jessica shook her head and sent her blond hair cascading over her shoulders. “I don’t think so. You’ll think I’m being crazy.”
“Let me be the judge.”
She expelled a breath. “I heard Michael on the phone asking someone what the hell you were doing at the house, and why he hadn’t been warned you were coming. He said it was their job to keep tabs on you. Maybe I dragged you into some kind of stalker ring or something. Or maybe I’ve exposed you to a ring of super fans who want to kidnap you and hold you for ransom until you produce another painting.”
Ice formed in Eli’s gut. “Did he give a name? Any indication of who he was talking to?”
“No.”
“Then don’t worry about it for now.” Yeah, let me worry about who the fuck is keeping tabs on my brother. Damn it, Samson, what kind of trouble are you in?
“I can’t just ignore it. He wants something from you, and it makes me nervous to think about what that might be.”
It made him nervous, too. But like hell he was going to say so. Still, he had an opening. “Well, I was thinking about something else at dinner. You know that bracelet your mom was wearing?”
“You mean that one daddy dearest got all possessive about?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I know this is a little farfetched, but I remember that being a one-of-a-kind item that was part of a jewelry and art heist some years ago.”
“Are you sure?”
He shrugged. “I’m pretty sure. It was a heist that I paid careful attention to. It was totally something out of the Thomas Crown Affair or something. They took priceless art and jewelry and replaced everything with exact replicas.”
“I think I remember that on E! or something. The top ten art heists of all time.”
“I could swear that bracelet was part of it. But maybe it’s a replica.”
Part of his job was to know when to back off. And he was flirting with that line. Ignoring the pang of guilt, he added, “I only remember 'cause my girlfriend at the time was obsessed with getting a knock off.”
Jessica wrinkled her nose. “Girlfriend huh?”
Eli smirked. “She was a hag really.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. Not to say that I trust the guy, but he’s hardly young enough or fit enough to pull off a heist. I’m sure it just looks like it. But shoot, if it was the bracelet, it would be a quick way to get him out of my life for good.”
Eli shrugged. “You never know about people, I guess.” If he was reading her right, she’d look into that bracelet. If Michael was connected to Samson somehow and connected to the bracelet, maybe they finally had a break in the case. But the jewelry case had been dead for years, according to Vince.
He parked in front of her house and turned the engine off.
She blinked up at him from under lowered lashes. “Thanks for tonight. I didn’t know it was going to be torture time. Though knowing my mother, I should have guessed.”
Every cell and nerve ending in Eli’s body stood at attention. The look she was giving him said fuck me. But she held herself at an arm’s length. He could be the calm, controlled gentleman he’d learned to be, or he could do the one thing he’d been dying to do all night. He’d also made a promise not to touch her, until she asked.
“You want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“My mother has a way of getting to me.”
“She’s proud of you, Jessica.”
“Oh, really? That’s why she always invites Destiny to events and tells me that’s how I should run my business.” She rubbed the end of her nose. “Apparently, my tats and feathers hurt my career. Speaking of Destiny, the two of you were chatting for a bit.”