I Belong to You (Inside Out #5)(48)

“My attorney was already in the air on his way here when I heard they’d called me a ‘person of interest.’ I intend to have him take care of this when he lands. I’m done being the focal point for lazy law enforcement who should be looking for the real problem, not a fall guy.”

“We all agree,” Kara says.

“And since I understand Blake is traveling with Detective Grant, make sure he knows two things in light of these new developments. You work for the police—which means you not only won’t receive any notes I have on the investigation, but you also won’t work for me. And I won’t be indulging Detective Grant’s desire to catch up on old times. He can talk to my attorney.”

“Blake stayed on with the district attorney in San Francisco because he wanted to help justice be served for Rebecca,” Kara says. “He had no idea a finger would be pointed at you again.”

“I wasn’t asking for an explanation I’ve already heard. Those are simply my requirements to go forward with Walker Security.”

Kara’s expression tightens. “Understood on all points. We’ll meet those requirements.”

“I’ll need confirmation when he arrives.”

“You’ll get it.”

“I’ll be waiting.” I don’t look at Crystal again. I can’t. Not when there’s something dark and turbulent brewing beneath my surface. I turn and walk toward the door.

“Mark, wait,” she calls, and the instant my hand touches the knob, hers is on my arm, the impact shaking me to the core. “We need to talk,” she says.

“Right now, the only thing I want to do is throw you over my shoulder, carry you to a car, and take you to the airport, where I’ll put you on a private plane out of the country. So unless you want me to do what my gut is telling me to do, let me go clear my head.”

“I . . . oh . . . but—”

“I’m serious, Crystal. Let me go, before I do something you won’t forgive me for.”

She hesitates, but her hand falls away and I exit the office. Quickly traveling the hallway, I enter the lobby to find Mr. Murphy talking to one of our salespeople, a redhead fresh out of school who looks like she wants to crawl under Beverly’s desk.

I stalk forward in time to hear him say, “And what do you think about the counterfeit works? Have they all been located?”

“Mr. Murphy,” I say sharply. He jerks around in surprise. “Obviously you’ve used your status as a customer to gain access to my staff for media purposes. I’ll have Ms. Smith release you from your auction agreement; therefore you no longer have any need for concern.”

His ruddy complexion turns white. “No. No, that’s not what I want.”

“You stated to me that you were concerned about your auction items selling poorly next weekend,” I said, knowing we garner a 20 percent higher price than any other auction house. “That was your excuse for being here. I’m removing it as a reason for your return.”

“It’s natural to be concerned, with all of this scandal attached to Riptide. My job doesn’t erase my rights as a customer.”

“For the record,” Crystal says, stepping to my side, “our attendance for next Saturday is up fifteen percent. The scandal seems to be good for business.”

“Or the equivalent to rubbernecking.” Then he seems to realize what he’s said, holding up his hands. “Not that I’m unwilling to take the risk. I simply want reassurances.”

“Your reassurance is Ms. Smith filling out your release paperwork, and returning your items to you in the same condition in which we received them.” I glance at Crystal. “Please ensure that happens before Mr. Murphy leaves, so that a return visit won’t be necessary.”

“Of course.”

About to head to my office, I realize he’s going to create a story out of this visit, no matter what I say or do—and it won’t be the one I want told. “One more thing, Mr. Murphy,” I say, aware that numerous staff members are within hearing range. “You came here for a story.”

“No, that wasn’t—”

“You came for a story,” I state firmly. “Don’t make this worse by lying. I’m going to give you your story. A woman I cared very much for is dead.” I draw in a breath and look at Crystal, a deep ache forming in my gut as I amend my words. “A woman I loved was murdered. Her name was Rebecca Mason, and she worked for me at my gallery Allure in San Francisco. The woman who killed Rebecca escaped and is on the run, but not before she leaked lies to the press about me to try to clear her name. On top of that, my mother is battling cancer. And during all of this we have to battle people like you, who see us as nothing but headlines and top Google positions. Still, we’ve managed to maintain an exceptional business at exemplary standards, thanks to an incredibly dedicated staff.”

“What about the counterfeit art?” he demands. “That’s not exemplary. Ricco Alvarez says you framed him.”

“His lies to try to clear his own name are inconsequential and irrelevant. The facts will speak for themselves in court. Ricco Alvarez was obsessed with Rebecca to the point of being a near stalker. He tried to ruin me and my family because he wanted her and couldn’t have her.”

“At the expense of his career and his wealth? I find that hard to believe.”