I was pleased when I realized that my initial assessment was wrong. Piper Ellis was the victim of a one-night stand gone wrong. It happens. Trusting anyone in this city is a mistake. Piper learned that lesson the hard way.

  “Piper,” she says her name with a sigh. “That girl is a sweetheart.”

  “Were you able to track down the man responsible for robbing her?” I ask because my curiosity goes beyond the obvious. Naturally, I’d like to know the identity of the man who left my business card behind, but I’m more concerned with how Piper is doing. It can’t be easy putting your trust in someone who fucks you over, both in a literal and figurative sense.

  “No.” She shakes her head. “We traced her steps back to the hotel she had been at, but there was no sign of that bastard and he paid cash for the room. We did luck out though.”

  I roll my hand in the air, signaling for her to get to the point.

  “One of the hotel employees found her wallet and her phone in the trash in the kitchen. The only thing left in the wallet was her driver’s license. Her phone’s screen was smashed up pretty good, but she has it back.”

  “The money and credit cards were cleared out?”

  She nods. “Piper said she had left her credit card at home so a small blessing on that front. She had less than fifty dollars in the wallet and the watch she was wearing isn’t worth much. Overall, her loss is minimal.”

  The financial loss she suffered may be restricted to a few dollars and the cost of a replacement phone and watch, but I sense that the blow to her ego and sense of security is substantial.

  “Did she make it home alright?”

  “We said goodbye at the hotel after she used my phone to call the police to tell them not to bother coming here. She’s going to stop at the local precinct and file a report.” She lifts her gaze to my face. “I gave her money for cab fare. She said she was going home to change her clothes and then to work.”

  Work. Again, my curiosity burns so I ask. “Where does she work?”

  “She has a job at a place called the Grant Gallery.” She flips open the company check pad. “I’m writing myself a check to cover the cab fare to the hotel and back, along with the money I gave Piper. I’ll need you to sign this.”

  “Give yourself an extra hundred for your trouble, Joyce,” I say to her surprise. I’m feeling extra generous today. We helped out a damsel in distress. What better way is there to start the week than that?

  Chapter 4

  Piper

  Shit. I am so late. I was supposed to meet Bridget Grant, the co-owner of the Grant Gallery, an hour ago. I tried to call her once I got my phone back from the clerk at the front desk of the hotel. The phone didn’t work so after I said goodbye to Joyce I raced home, changed into a red patterned dress and used some of the cash I hid in my freezer to take a cab here.

  It was more expensive than the subway, but my livelihood is at stake. Bridget hired me to teach a class at her gallery based on a recommendation from one of my former professors and the samples of my work that I had sent her.

  I’m not going to get rich teaching this class, but once I have the schedule worked out, I can take on an extra job to keep a roof over my head.

  When I finally walk into the gallery, I’m instantly in love.

  It’s a stunning space with sunlight filtering in from the street. There are several distinct areas. Sculptures are adjacent to the windows, framed drawings cover the back wall and there’s an array of paintings on display near where I’m standing.

  I recognize some of them as Brighton Beck originals.

  I know that he owns the gallery with Bridget, although she told me on the phone when we first spoke a month ago, that he’s not as hands-on with the management as she is.

  She’s the one who hired me and I’m here to make her proud.

  I know what she looks like from the images I’ve seen of her online. I’ve followed her work for years. She started out much like I did. She does drawings as well but her tool is a pencil and she hasn’t ventured into the realm of nudes.

  That’s where I shine.

  I wave to her from across the gallery. She’s standing next to a woman who is staring at a framed drawing of a child with a dog.

  I know better than to approach and interrupt. If a potential customer is weighing their decision to purchase, they need room and time to think clearly. Art is a personal investment and it can’t be rushed.

  Bridget waves back and smiles. She’s a beautiful, blue-eyed, petite blonde. She’s dressed in a pair of white slacks and a matching blouse. It’s an elegant look.

  I motion that I’ll be near the paintings and she tosses me a nod. I’m grateful that I’ll have a few minutes to collect myself before I officially meet my new boss in person.

  The past twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind. Being here at the gallery is the highlight of my day, but meeting Griffin Kent runs a close second.

  Joyce talked non-stop about her boss as we raced around Manhattan trying to piece my life back together.

  He’s single. He works too much and according to his assistant, he’s never stepped foot in a museum or art gallery.

  I’m not surprised. He didn’t strike me as the type to find value in anything creative that is meant to bring joy and inspiration to the person who owns it.

  He helps people end their marriages. His world is filled with cold destruction.

  We have nothing in common, but that hasn’t stopped me from thinking about him constantly since I left his office.

  As Bridget approaches with the framed drawing of the child with the dog in her hand and the beaming woman by her side, I push all thoughts of Griffin aside.

  My new life starts today and that’s where all my focus needs to be.

  ***

  “I teach a class on Saturday mornings.” Bridget hands me a ceramic mug filled with coffee. “Our studios are upstairs. Beck teaches when he can, but his schedule is all over the place since he’s gearing up for a museum showing in Munich.”

  I’m envious. I know it takes a great deal of talent to reach the level of fame that Brighton Beck has. His watercolor paintings have been displayed in some of the world’s most notable museums and galleries and they fetch over six figures at auction.

  “Will I get to meet him?” I ask with hope. “I’ve admired his work for years. Obviously, I’ve admired your work too.”

  That lures a subtle smile to her lips. “I promise when he’s around, I’ll introduce you.”

  “Have you known him for a long time?” I ask because I don’t know the backstory between them. He’s been a big deal in the art world for more than a decade. Bridget has emerged as a name in portrait drawings just in the past few years.

  “We met at a pub.” Her smile stays soft. “I knew who he was instantly. I was in awe but was completely intimidated by him.”

  I know that I’d feel the very same way. We don’t create in the same medium, but I draw inspiration from many different artists.

  “He met my best friend that night too,” she goes on. “We were both working at the pub. He fell head over heels for her. They got married, he encouraged me to explore my art more and here we are today.”

  “You never really know what’s waiting around the corner,” I say quietly.

  “That’s true.” She looks around the gallery. “I never would have imagined that I’d own a place like this and that I’d help new artists learn their craft.”

  I never thought I’d be offered a job in Manhattan teaching an art class. I’m only twenty-five-years-old. Two weeks ago I was still working at a community center in Denver teaching drawing to whoever wandered in from the street.

  “I’m eager to get started, Bridget.” I grin. “This is my dream come true.”

  “You’re incredibly talented.” She looks up as the door to the gallery opens and a middle-aged man walks in. “He was in yesterday looking at a sculpture. I’ll go help him, but consider this job a step toward your future. You’re going places. I can sense it.”

  Teaching at this gallery is going to change my life. I feel it.

  Chapter 5

  Piper

  “Your class will be in the evening.” Bridget skims her fingertips over the screen of the tablet in her hands as she sits back down after helping the customer purchase a small sculpture. “We have three other teachers besides you and I. Most of them work Saturdays. I’ll introduce you to them at our next staff dinner.”

  I’m surprised to hear there’s a gathering for staff. I’m excited too. I don’t know anyone in this city, so I’m eager to meet people who share the same interests that I do. If they are art teachers, I know that we’ll at least have that in common. “The staff dinner sounds fun.”

  “It’s a potluck.” She looks up from the tablet at me. “We have it at my house on a Sunday afternoon every couple of months. It’s very casual. You can bring a plus one and hang out for as long as you want.”

  I don’t bother to mention the fact that I don’t have anyone to bring. Bridget knows that I’m new to the city. On the phone when we were discussing the position I told her that I was eager for a new adventure.

  I got that, and more, during the past twenty-four hours.

  “I’ve set you up for Monday and Wednesday evenings.” She points out the dates on a calendar app on her tablet. “We’ve had a lot of interest in your class. It’s almost full already.”

  “People are signing up to take my class?” The words sound foreign coming from my lips. “You’re sure they know that you’re not teaching the class?”

  “I’m sure,” she answers with a laugh. “There’s a page on the studio website devoted to your work. Your students know what you’re creating, Piper. Your drawings are captivating. I’m tempted to sit in on a class or two for pointers.”

  “You?” I raise both brows. “You’re not serious? You’re Bridget Grant.”

  “Bridget Beckett.” She looks down at her wedding ring. “Grant is for professional purposes. The point is that I’ve always wanted to feel confident enough to draw nudes, but I don’t. If you can teach me how to do it, I’ll be in your debt.”

  “This day has been surreal. I feel like I’m living someone else’s life.”

  “Are you talking about more than just your job here at the gallery?” She brushes her hand over mine. “I’m not a stickler on time, but you were late getting here. I know the city can be complicated to navigate if you’re new here. I also noticed your cell phone’s screen is cracked. Did that happen today?”

  I draw in a quick breath to steady my voice. “I was robbed last night.”

  “What?” Her gaze darts over my face. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  I’m not going to retell the tale of my one-night stand from hell. My boss doesn’t need to know about that. I shorten the story to only include the important details. “My wallet and phone were stolen. They were recovered this morning in midtown. My money was gone and my phone’s screen didn’t survive.”

  “What a horrible introduction to New York.” Her voice is sympathetic. “If you need anything, let me know. I can advance you some money against your first paycheck if that helps and I have an old phone in my desk in the office. You’re welcome to use it if you need to.”

  I’m touched that she’s so willing to help me out. “Thank you for the offer, but I have some savings and I’ll stop on my way home to get a new phone.”

  “Don’t let that one bad experience taint you, Piper. This is an amazing city. I know you won’t regret moving here.”

  I hope she’s right. I bet everything on this move and the last thing I want is to crawl back to my parents’ home in Denver to listen to a chorus of I-told-you-so from my dad.

  ***

  “You’re 4B?” A woman’s voice cuts through the silence of the corridor. “I’m 4A.”

  I turn to look at my neighbor. I rented this apartment because it’s cheap. I wanted to live closer to the gallery but I couldn’t afford anything within a twenty-block radius. I may have splurged on a cab to get me there today, but I walked home.

  It took almost two hours but it gave me a much clearer picture of the city including the inside of a smartphone store and a police station where I filed a report. The officer on duty at the front desk told me that the chances of catching the jerk that robbed me are slim to none. I thanked him for his time and then stepped back onto the sidewalk of the city I’m now calling home.

  Tomorrow I’ll purchase a metro card so I can ride the subway to work and save my feet for shorter trips to the bodega and the vintage bookstore down the street.

  “I’m Piper.” I extend my hand to her even though it’s sweaty and clammy from my hike back here. “It’s good to meet you.”

  “I’m Jo.” Her long brown hair bounces around her shoulders. “Welcome to the building.”

  She’s older than me by at least two decades. I can tell by the subtle lines around her eyes and the few strands of gray hair that frame her face.

  “Do you live alone?”

  My eyebrows dart up at her question. I’ve already been lured into feeling safe by one criminal in the past twenty-four hours, I don’t want to willingly walk into another situation where I’ll end up losing not only money but my pride.

  She giggles. “That was forward of me, wasn’t it? I was just asking because I live alone and sometimes it’s good for us singles to watch out for each other. Do you know what I mean?”

  I relax my shoulders. “I’ll keep an eye out for you if you do the same for me.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal, Piper.” She holds out her hand in a fist.

  I bump mine against it. “It’s a deal, Jo.”

  Chapter 6

  Griffin

  I stalk down the corridor in the courthouse toward the open elevator. I’ve already called out once for the people onboard to hold it, but they don’t fucking care. Everyone is in a rush to get somewhere in this town and they don’t give a shit who they piss off to get there.

  Today it’s me. As I near the elevator the doors slide shut.

  I don’t bother reaching in to hold them open because I don’t want to ride down with those inconsiderate assholes.

  I’ll wait for another bunch in the next car and I’ll take the trip to the ground floor with them.

  “Griffin?”

  I don’t turn around because I recognize the voice of the person calling my name.

  “Griffin? I know it’s you.”

  Of course she knows it’s me. I fucked her two months ago, and once a few weeks before that. I really have to start following my rule of no sex with colleagues.

  I hear the click-clack of her sky-high heels as she closes the distance between us. I need the elevator to haul ass back up here now.

  “Are you avoiding me?” Lana Dunstrom puts her hand on my shoulder. “Why does it feel like you’re ignoring me?”

  Because I am?

  The fuck was fun, but that’s all it was. If I wanted a relationship it sure as hell wouldn’t happen with someone who I regularly face in court.

  I can’t wrap my brain around the vision of fucking a woman after we wake up in the same bed and then fucking her over in court a few hours later.

  I have boundaries. One of them happens to be that I won’t get more involved than a casual screw with a woman I see inside a courtroom.

  “I’ve been busy, Lana.” I look down at her. “You’ve been busy too, I hope. We’re due in court the week after next to argue the Lindel case. I take it your client is ready for that?”

  She eyes me up with her baby blues. “Mr. Lindel is more than ready to take you on.”

  I highly doubt it.

  He’s a coke-snorting, cheating bastard who left his wife home alone for an entire weekend with their three young children while he partied in Southampton like he was single.

  “We’ll see about that,” I say in a low tone. “Your case is weak. Our offer is still on the table. I’ll refresh in the event that you’ve forgotten. My client wants full custody of the kids. Child support, alimony and the deed on the apartment in the city are acceptable. He can keep his party pad in Southampton and his new friends.”

  “You’re dreaming.” She runs her hand through her long blonde hair. “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Sleeping.” I jab my finger into the elevator call button again.

  “We can do that together,” she purrs.

  “I prefer to sleep alone.”

  She sighs. It’s most likely meant to sound breathy and sensual, but it comes across as desperate and dramatic. “I miss you, Griffin. There’s no reason why we can’t spend another night together.”

  There are a million reasons why we can’t, in the form of dollar bills. I want those to go to Mrs. Lindel. I’m not about to risk the case over a conflict of interest because my cock is involved with the opposing counsel.

  I finally turn to face her. “We need to keep our pants on, Lana. This case is a big one. You know your boss would be pissed if he knew you fucked me two weeks before we’re in front of the judge.”

  “How would he find out?”

  It’s a good question that I have an answer to. “He’s walking toward us right now. Put on your game face, sweetheart. You know he plays by the rule book.”

  She nods and straightens her stance. “I’ll see you in court, Mr. Kent. You better be ready for the fight of your life. I’m bringing my big guns.”

  I step forward when the elevator doors finally open.

  Big guns indeed. Her tits are something else, along with the rest of her.

  I had a taste but she wasn’t for me. I’m looking for something taller and brunette that apparently can be found at an art gallery uptown.

  ***

  I walk into Grant Gallery expecting to see Piper Ellis.

  I don’t.

  Instead, I see a cute blonde talking to an older guy. They seem immersed in a discussion about a painting. From my vantage point, it looks like someone threw a few buckets of paint against a canvas and called it a day.

  The colors are muted and subtle. If there’s an intentional design to the thing, I can’t see it.

 

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