Kingdom Come

When he knocked again, I said, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

I took another moment to breathe before I gathered myself, found my hostess smile, and left the restroom.By the time I made it home late that night, I kicked off my heels and fell into bed.

I slept in Sunday and tried not to think about the man who’d occupied my dreams. Was I in as much denial as my bestie was? After movies, ice cream, takeout, and a little retail therapy, I was anxious to get out of the apartment and go to work on Monday.

As soon as Anderson walked into my office, I saw his eagerness to ask me all the details about my farce of a marriage. Grumpy about that and how good and rested he looked—when I felt like a bloated cow with the amount of carbs I’d consumed yesterday—I grimaced. It was probably a bad idea that I’d come in. I’d had to come in through the back of the gallery to avoid the few cameras at the front door.

I put the sunglasses I’d taken off on my desk. “How did we do?”

Anderson tapped his phone. “Assuming your husband pays, we made a profit that should make up for the last few months.”

I wasn’t a numbers guru like Bailey, but I’d priced Connor King’s anonymous artist’s work pretty aggressively. The contract required me to pay Connor, as the artist’s agent, within a week of the show.

“Lizzy?”

I glanced up. “What?”

“Will your husband pay or not? And you’re lucky I’m not giving you shit about not telling me. I’m giving you a break because of those bags under your eyes.”

“Bags?” I sputtered.

Anderson gave me a look of disbelief. “Honey, concealer couldn’t hide those shadows.”

“He’s not my husband and I don’t know.”

“So it was a lie?”

I nodded. “I’d planned to make an excuse about being married to work and not being able to give Hans what he would need in a wife.”

“And Mr. Gorgeous said you were married instead.” I nodded and Anderson tsked. “That can’t be a hardship. When were you going to tell me you were screwing that man?”

“Why do I have to be screwing him?”

“Because a man like that doesn’t claim someone he hasn’t tasted.”

I groaned and put my head on the desk. “The press is going to destroy me over this.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Marry him.” He shrugged when I glared at him. It was a ridiculous idea. “By the way, if he doesn’t pay, we’re close to losing money this month—unless we contact Hans and offer him the paintings.”

I thought about Striker’s comment about the woman in the painting being me. Though I’d been pissed at Striker’s possessiveness, he had apparently cured Hans of any thoughts of reconciliation between us. “That won’t work. I tried calling Hans to apologize, and he hasn’t returned any of my calls.”

Anderson frowned. “At least we’ve gotten payment for the rest. I’ll prepare the shipping manifest. I’ll be in the back if you need me.”

“You know, if I don’t say it enough, you’re the absolute best.”

“Not enough.” He grinned and winked before leaving to complete his task.

I sighed and sat at my desk. I had a lot of thank yous to send. I also needed to give Haven the good news that her art had sold out.

Just before noon, I sent out a final email before lunch.

To: Connor King

From: Elizabeth Monroe

Subject: More Art

I wanted you to know that things went really well at the show this weekend. Assuming everyone pays, I’ll send you a check for your artist’s share by the end of the week. I also wanted to inquire if the artist would like to do a solo show. I think it could be a great success. Please let me know.

I flipped my laptop closed and noticed I wasn’t alone.Twenty-ThreeConnorThere was a place I found inside myself when I’d come to see Lizzy. Humility. My world was dominance, but not hers. I had no claim on her and shouldn’t have acted like a caveman at the showing. I didn’t often apologize, but I wasn’t ready for her to walk out of my life. And if that meant bending at the knee, I would.

I pushed past two cameramen and inside the door. It chimed, but no one came out. I stepped to the left and down the hall where the offices were. Her door was open, and her eyes were fastened on her computer screen.

“Hey,” I said, startling her before her eyes narrowed.

“How did you get in here?”

“The door was unlocked. It shouldn’t be. Not with those cameras out there.”

“Thanks for that,” she said dryly. “But they won’t come in. Anderson already told them he’d call the police for trespassing if they did. Did I mention thanks for that?”

“I’m sorry. I honestly thought I was helping.”