Читать книгу Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires - Rebecca Winters - Страница 104

WREN SAT IN a meeting room at the front of the Cobalt & Dane offices, staring at a wall clock. Each time the second hand moved, it made a ticking sound that was starting to drive her insane. She didn’t need a reminder that the minutes were slowly melting away.

Rhys had left her apartment in the wee hours of the morning, claiming he needed to be at work as early as possible. After he’d left, she’d tossed and turned, unable to sleep for worrying about how badly she’d messed up his life.

“Wren, thanks for coming down,” Quinn said as she walked into the room, with Rhys in tow. “Sorry to drag you in here without much notice.”

Relief eased through her chest. At least he hadn’t been fired. “It’s fine.”

Rhys nodded at her but didn’t say anything. The line between his eyes told her he’d had a rough morning.

“So Rhys has updated me on what’s been going on with Sean, including that he came to your apartment last night. Is that correct?”

Quinn made notes as Wren relayed what’d happened, leaving out the part about Rhys staying over…just in case that information wasn’t widely known.

“We’re going to monitor the gallery through the security cameras that we’ve set up.” Quinn tapped her pen against the edge of the table. “Now, if you have any contact with either Lola or Aimee, please don’t mention this. We don’t want to spook Sean.”

“Of course.”

“We’re breaking our contract with him by doing this,” Rhys said. “So it’s really important that we keep this activity quiet.”

A lump formed in her throat. “I understand. I promise I won’t say anything.”

“We’ll monitor the cameras for a couple of days and see if Sean accesses the storage room. I understand you think he’s hiding something in there?” Quinn said, watching her with hawk-like eyes.

“That’s right, but I have no idea what.”

“I didn’t see anything but paintings when I was in there. I made sure to look thoroughly, too, because I suspected the same thing,” she said. “It was literally just dozens of paintings. Some very strange ones, too.”

“Oh?” Wren tried to listen to Quinn while pretending that she wasn’t slowly driving herself crazy trying to figure out what Rhys was thinking.

“Yeah, some weird paintings with vegetables that had faces,” Quinn said with a shake of her head.

“Like an angry carrot with a pitchfork?” Wren asked, her blood suddenly running cold.

“Yeah.” Quinn glanced up sharply.

“And a screaming pumpkin?” She knew the painting exactly—right down to the brushes that had created the strange and haunting image.

“Yes.”

“They’re meant to represent the plight of farmers in today’s society and the issues around agricultural decline,” she said, echoing the words she’d heard once before, when the idea of the collection had been conceived.

“Are you very familiar with all of Sean’s paintings?”

“He didn’t paint them. My friend Kylie did.”

The pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. Why Sean was so secretive about the storage room. Why Kylie had refused to let Wren come into her studio after she’d returned from New York. Why the Ainslie Ave shows seemed to be weirdly eclectic and lacking in direction.

Because none of them were Sean’s paintings.

“Why would he have her paintings if she’s no longer working at the gallery? Would she have sold them to him?” Quinn asked.

“He’s stealing them,” she said, her heartbeat kicking up a notch. “I saw him carrying a painting the other day that seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it at the time. I remember now. It looked a lot like one that Aimee was finishing up when I first started at the gallery.”

“Can you prove it?” Rhys asked, his hands bunching into fists on top of the table.

“I’m sure I have a picture of Kylie while she was painting the pumpkin. She’d started working on it before she left for New York, and I told her I wanted a picture before she got famous.” The image was clear in her mind—her friend standing at the canvas, wearing her pink apron as she always did when she painted. The idea was fresh, weird. She had been sure it would get her noticed in the art world.

It had. But she’d been noticed by the wrong person.

“I did think it was strange how Sean seemed to only hire young women from small towns,” Wren added. “None of us have the fancy education that most galleries require for our work. Kylie thought that meant he was looking for pure talent. The kind of rawness and honesty that some of those rich students don’t have. But what he really wanted were girls who were desperate and far away from home.”

How stupid had she been to come here? How stupid had she been not to stop Kylie from coming?

“I guess he figures it’s a low-risk scam since none of the gallery’s customers are likely to recognize the paintings of an unknown artist. And if he traumatizes the true artists, they’re too scared and ashamed to say anything. But he takes the precaution of hiding the paintings in this locked room in case one of the interns happens to recognize the paintings…as I did. I told him that Kylie and I were no longer friends because I didn’t want him to suspect my reason for accepting the internship, but I guess he was worried I’d see one of her paintings there.”

“If we can get footage from the storage room of her paintings, that might be enough to charge him with theft,” Quinn said, her face intensely serious.

Rhys shook his head. “His father was a judge. We need something concrete or else it won’t stick.”

Rhys was right; his father would no doubt do everything in his power to get Sean off the hook. They needed an admission from Sean on why he’d done what he’d done. Something he couldn’t wriggle away from.

The reason she’d never seen him working on a painting himself was because he had no talent. So he stole it from others, hoping to find his golden goose.

An idea sprang to Wren’s mind.

“I’ll get him to confess,” she said.

Rhys shook his head vehemently. “You’re not going anywhere near Sean Ainslie.”

“Hear me out.” She held up a hand. “You can put a wire on me or give me a recording advice. I’ll confront him at the gallery and get him to say that he’s been stealing the paintings and abusing these women.”

“No fucking way.”

“Hang on,” Quinn interjected. “Shouldn’t we at least run this past Owen? It might be our best bet at making sure we nail this guy once and for all.”

Rhys looked as though he were about to explode. She hadn’t ever seen him so furious, not even last night when he’d confronted Sean. Normally he was cool, calm and collected. Ever the guy in control of his environment. But now a muscle in his jaw twitched, and his arms were folded tightly across his chest.

“Can you give us a minute?” he said to Quinn.

“Sure thing.” She got up and left the room, closing the glass door with a soft click.

Neither one of them said anything at first, and Wren had to stop herself from wrenching the clock off the wall and stomping on it until that damn ticking stopped.

“You’re not going in there,” he said, his voice brittle. “It’s too risky.”

“What happens if I don’t? He’ll get away with it. Then he’ll find another girl and do the same thing all over again. It’s not right.”

“I won’t risk your safety for this, Wren. No way in hell.”

“You’re not the one risking my safety. I am. It’s my decision to make, not yours.”

“You’re so…impulsive.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Have you thought this through at all? What if he attacks you like he did last night? What if something goes wrong?”

“I understand there are risks, but I’m willing to take them.” She drew a steadying breath. “I want to help.”

He rubbed his hands over his face, his dark brows knitted together. “Think about yourself for once, Wren. Put yourself first. You don’t have to always be looking out for other people.”

“What else am I going to do?”

Since she’d come to New York, her life had been a crazy ride. But she’d felt so…free. Being with Rhys had allowed her to be comfortable in her skin, to enjoy sex, to not be ashamed of what she wanted to paint. Not only that, she’d finally been able to pick up her brushes again without being paralyzed by fear. She’d painted again because of him.

But Sean Ainslie’s crimes would hang over her head unless she made sure he got his due.

“Maybe do what most people do. Get a job, find something you’re passionate about…someone you’re passionate about.”

“Maybe I’m not like most people.”

Part of her wanted to buy into the fantasy that she could stay in New York. Stay with Rhys. But that wasn’t going to happen.

She owed it to Kylie to finally be a good friend by doing something that would actually help her heal. What she should have done in the first place—be there for her. In person.

Her friend had been right. Wren had run away because it suited her, because she’d wanted distance from her own problems. But now she knew that she had the strength to stand up to the bullies and the liars. If she stood up to Sean and helped to put him away, then she could face the people of Charity Springs. She could return home to the people that needed her, like Kylie and Debbie.

She could be the person who’d done something good, for once.

“Then what are you going to do after this is all done?” he asked.

“I’m going home.”

THE WORDS CUT right into him. Silly him, assuming she’d consider staying in New York.

Staying with him.

After last night he thought things might be different between them. He’d shown her that he believed her, that he listened to her. Cared about her. But apparently that didn’t count for anything.

“You’re going back there?” He ran a hand over his head, trying to tamp down the anger that was rearing up within him. “To that hick town where the people call you a sexual deviant?”

“It’s my home, Rhys.” She blinked at him, her brows furrowed. “I never said I was planning to make a life here.”

“You ran away from that place because of how they treated you, and all of a sudden you’re feeling the pull of loyalty.” He shook his head. “I thought you hated that place.”

“I’m angry about what happened to me, of course, but my family is there. Kylie is there… She needs me.”

“What do you need, Wren?” He stood, shoving back his chair so hard it almost toppled over. “Because it’s hard for me to tell whether or not you care about your future. You seem to base all of your actions on other people.”

“No, I don’t.” Her face reddened in a way that told him she knew damn well he was right.

“No? You came here to find justice for your friend. You’re now offering to put yourself at risk to get Sean Ainslie to confess.” He ticked the items off his fingers. “And let’s not forget how you buttered me up to make sure I wouldn’t turn you in.”

“That is not true.” Her face looked as though it might crumple, but instead she stood and drew in a deep breath.

“Isn’t it? Because from my standpoint, it seems like everything you’ve done is to serve someone else. You don’t live your own life.”

“I do. I spent time with you because I cared about you.”

Cared. Past tense.

Because now she didn’t need anything from him. The realization that she’d used him was like a slap across the face.

“You don’t get to say that to me.” The frustration tumbled out of him unbidden. “Not after you’ve screwed my reputation only to throw it back in my face by putting yourself in danger.”

The hurt that streaked across her face wrenched like a knife in his chest. “I didn’t force you to sleep with me.”

“My record here has been one hundred percent clean. I have been a model employee until this. And now my reputation is on the line, and for what?”

She’d let him believe she wasn’t involved when she was and, worse than that, she’d let him believe that he meant something to her. That he was important and real and visible.

“I’m sorry, okay?” She threw her hands up in the air. “It was selfish, I know that. But I wanted to help my friend and…I liked you. You were the first guy who’s ever made me feel like I’m not useless and wrong. If I could change things, I would.”

“Well, you can’t. I’ll have to earn back Logan’s trust, and he’s not the kind of guy who dishes it out easily.”

“What do you want me to say?” she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

I want you to tell me I mean something to you.

“If you don’t know what I want from you, then it’s clear you don’t actually care for me at all.”

She looked so small and vulnerable, and his instincts urged him to bundle her up in his arms. But he couldn’t touch her again, not now that he knew how little he’d meant to her. The thought of staying with him hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“Are you trying to hurt my feelings?” she asked, her voice coated in frustration.

“This isn’t about feelings. It’s about actions.”

She shook her head and sucked on her cheek, though he could still see the tremble in her lip. “Have you ever thought that maybe life isn’t all black-and-white? You can’t just spreadsheet everything out and use a formula to make a decision.”

“Do you think that’s what I did last night?” Damn it, she had a way of dragging him out of his logical mind-set into dangerous emotional territory. “Do you think I came to your apartment because a formula told me so?”

She blinked. “Well—”

“No, I came to your apartment because I couldn’t stand the idea of not clearing the air between us. When I saw Sean there…” Why was he even bothering? “You know what? It doesn’t matter. You’ve made up your mind.”

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“Just promise me one thing,” he said. “At some point in your life, you’ll start basing your decisions on what you want instead of hiding behind everyone else’s needs.”