Scarlett

As soon as Gabe and I walked into the exhibition hall, Violet rushed forward to see me.

“Thank God you’re here,” she said. “We have a crisis.”

“What happened?”

Violet glanced over my shoulder at Gabe. “Perhaps we should . . .”

“It’s okay, he’s with me.”

Violet looked as if she wanted to say something, but then decided against it. “They put us next to Bridget.”

“They what?” I no longer suspected that Bridget was up to something, I knew it. Ever since I left her apprenticeship to break out on my own, she has been looking for a way to tear me down. I suspect she thought that I would just work for her gallery forever. Henri had made me realize that giving her part of my commission when she did nothing to earn the sale wasn’t in my best interest. Leaving her was the best business decision I had made in my career. Unfortunately, as soon as I left, her gallery started struggling. Her jealousy over my success was starting to become a problem.

Everyone in the business knew that Bridget used a lot of gimmicks and flash when promoting her gallery. She also used her connections in the industry. Over the past year, she has been known to do wild stunts to get people to notice her, stunts that could draw the attention of potential buyers and leave her competitors out in the cold.

“Why is this a problem?” Gabe asked.

“Because she’ll steal all of our clients,” I said.

“Isn’t that unethical?”

“Not exactly.” It skirted the line, however. When confronted, she used to say that it wasn’t her fault that potential buyers preferred little extras. Personally, I preferred to let the art speak for itself. The art would be in their home long after the art show was over. I wanted to make them happy with their purchase, not filled with regret.

Happiness was never a concern for Bridget, however. All she was concerned with was making the sale.

“That’s not all,” Violet said.

“What else happened?” I asked.

She glanced up at Gabe, then hooked her arm with mine. “Joaquim forgot our sign,” she whispered as she steered me down the hall.

“Our gallery sign?”

Violet nodded. “It’s still in storage back in Boston.”

“You’re kidding.” I stopped and turned to face her. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. Now we’re stuck in a corner with Bridget, and we have no sign. We’ll be lucky if we attract a handful of potential buyers, rather than the thousands we need to keep the doors open.”

“Shh, keep your voice down.” I didn’t want it to be common knowledge that this art show was the equivalent of a Hail Mary pass. I had been depleting our savings for months, and this was supposed to put us in the black once more. Not only was I going to sell some of our most expensive pieces, but I was scouting for new talent. It was my hope that the new talent would carry us into the following year.

There was no way we were going to attract new artists if we were positioned next to Bridget. Pressing my lips together, I glanced around the room. “Did you see any free spaces?” I asked my assistant.

Violet shook her head. “None here. But they might have some space in the other wing. I kept everything packaged up in case we moved.” She pulled me a short distance away from Gabe. “There’s something else.”

“There’s more?”

She nodded. “I’ve gotten several phone calls from the press, wanting to talk to you about that murder at the mansion last night. The local police would also like a word—”

“I’ll deal with it after the show. Right now, this is more important.”

Violet nodded. “Okay, but I can’t hold these people off forever. The longer we’re silent, the more rumors will spread. Rumors won’t be good for business, if you know what I mean. You’ll need to talk to these people sooner rather than later.”

“Understood.” I glanced up at Gabe. “It seems as if we have run into a little snag.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

I considered him for a moment, then turned to Violet. “You said Patrick came down with you and would be visiting family while you were at the art show?”

“Yeah, we’re staying with his parents.” Violet wrinkled her nose in disgust. “There’s no privacy, Scarlett. None.”

While I felt bad for my friend, that wasn’t what was important right now. Patrick was Violet’s boyfriend, and a graphic designer. Perhaps he could work something up quickly that didn’t look like a total eyesore. “Call him and see if he can work something up in the next few hours.”

“What if he’s busy?”

I flexed my fingers. “I don’t know. Bat your eyes and flip your hair. Offer him a blow job.”

“Scarlett!” Violet raised her eyes in mock surprise. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Sure, you aren’t.” I chuckled and eased her toward the exit. “Just figure it out.” Ever since the first day of their monthlong relationship, Patrick had seemed infatuated with Violet. Unfortunately, Violet saw him as little more than an interesting diversion. While she didn’t care much for the man, she had told me that the sex was incredible. The two of them had been doing it like rabbits for weeks. The vacation at his parents’ house must have really put a damper on the relationship.

“I’m on it.” Violet pulled out her phone and began tapping as she walked toward the doors.

I turned to Gabe. “I want you to go to our section and try to keep Bridget entertained.”

He frowned. “How am I supposed to do that?”

I smirked. “I’m sure you’ll think of something. If we are stuck next to her, then I want to know what she’s planning to do to attract customers and have something in place to counteract it.”

He nodded. “Okay. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go to the front desk and try to get them to move us somewhere more . . . quiet.”

“And if they can’t?”

“We’ll just have to roll with it, I guess.” I let out a long breath. “I have to admit, this is a bad stroke of luck, and it couldn’t come at a worse time. Let’s just hope that I can convince them to move us without much fuss. I’d rather not lose all of my potential customers to Bridget.”

“You’ll do fine, I’m sure. You’re Scarlett Bishop.” I smiled as he kissed my forehead. “You’ll have everyone eating out of your hands by the time this show is over. Just wait.”

I chuckled and pushed him away. “Stop flattering and go to our spot. We don’t have much time.”

“Yes sir, general, sir.” He gave me a fake salute, which made me laugh. Shaking my head, I turned and made my way to the front desk. There, a short blonde in a tight, button-down shirt and ponytail snapped her gum and looked up at me. “The show doesn’t open for another two hours.”

“I know. I’m one of the exhibitors.”

She raised her brows and straightened in her chair. “Oh, I’m sorry. What can I do for you?”

I put on my most placating smile and leaned over the counter. “I was wondering if you could change my spot on the exhibition floor.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. That plan was set in stone. The brochures have already been made up.”

“Perhaps you could make an announcement.”

“Even if we could, there’s nowhere to move you to. All of the spots are filled.”

“Are you sure? Perhaps someone backed out at the last minute.”

“No one backed out.”

I let my smile fall. “You didn’t even check.”

She waved at the computer. “I can’t get into the system. My computer is locked until it’s time to open, for security reasons.”

I straightened and crossed my arms. “Then I’d like to talk to someone who can help me.”

“I’m sorry, everyone is busy, Ms. . . .”

“Bishop. Scarlett Bishop.”

She widened her eyes and stood. “Ms. Bishop. I had no idea.” She stumbled a step back and swallowed her gum. “I’ll get my boss. It will only take a few minutes to track her down.”

I gave her a curt nod. “I’ll wait.”

She hurried away, her gray pencil skirt sticking to her legs as she moved. Sighing, I turned and face the open foyer, then scanned the waiting crowd beyond the big double doors. Mystique had grown over the years, and the best thing that they had done was to open the art show to the public. In five years, it had grown into quite the place to be. People camped out the night before just to be one of the first to see the cutting edge of the contemporary art world. Recently, thanks to the terrorist threats, security posts had been added, and now the public lined up in front of them, chatting and waiting for admittance.

While Mystique had always been popular, there seemed to be more people today than in the past. That was probably thanks to the murder the night before. The public always loved a good scandal. It was a shame that it took someone’s death to attract such a large crowd.

Sensing someone come up behind me, I started to turn back toward the front desk. Something clamped down hard over my nose and mouth, cutting off my air. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. Warm breath brushed against my neck as an arm tightened around my rib cage. I flailed my arms as someone pulled me back behind the large potted plant in the entryway and out of the view of the public.

“Quiet.” A low, masculine voice whispered past my ear. It sounded slightly familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I tried to move, but he tightened his grip and managed to lock my arms into place. I closed my eyes as panic welled up and froze my brain. I couldn’t move, couldn’t even think. Oh God, what was happening to me?

He leaned his temple against the side of my head. “You have become quite a bit of trouble, little girl.” He tilted my head back so that my chin was in the air. Panic sliced through me as I fought his grip on my arms.

“You and your boyfriend should know better than to poke your nose in where it isn’t wanted.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, nor did I care. I just wanted to get away. Unfortunately, that seemed to be impossible at the moment.

“We can’t have you stumbling around and messing things up on us, can we?” He slid his hand down to my hip and curled his fingers into my flesh. “Pity. You are such a lovely thing. Perhaps under different circumstances . . .” He shifted his hand at my jaw, producing a small pill. “But alas, such things were not meant to be. Know this, my dear. Your death will be the one that I regret the most.”

I widened my eyes as he moved the pill toward my mouth. Hadn’t Henri been killed in a similar fashion? I had to do something, and fast. If only I was wearing something more appropriate than a dress and heels—

Heels! He had secured my arms, but not my feet. Lifting my heel, I brought it down hard on his foot, causing him to yelp. His grip immediately loosened and I stumbled away from his body, desperate to get away. Unfortunately, the potted plant impeded my movement, and I fell head-first into the palm leaves as I tumbled to the ground.

Pain exploded across my skull as the loud crash filled the air. I winced and grabbed the back of my head as several staff members of the convention center moved around me.

“Are you all right?” the woman from the front desk asked, as her face filled my vision.

“What happened?” asked another, much older woman, who looked to be her supervisor. How embarrassing.

“The man,” I choked out.

“The man?” someone asked.

“There was a man,” I said as pain pulsed through my body, leaving me disoriented.

“She was hit in the head,” the older woman said. “She’s hallucinating.”

“There’s no one here,” someone else said.

Shit. How could that be? “Gabe,” I whispered. He’d know what to do. “Someone get Gabe.” God, my head hurt. Squeezing my eyes shut, I curled up into a ball and whimpered as every muscle in my body ached.

Who was that man, and why did he want me dead?