I Married a Billionaire: Lost and Found(33)

Okay, no, that wasn’t going to happen. But maybe telling Lindsey was a good idea.

I waited until Daniel was out, approaching Lindsey in the kitchen while she was puttering around with something.

"I got a gallery placement," I said. "At a show next month."

Lindsey squealed, running over to hug me. "That's fantastic! I'm so happy for you, sweetie."

"Thanks," I said. "Yeah, I just…I wish it had come at a better time."

"Well, I guess," she said. "But in a way, this is perfect, right? A really nice distraction. You could hardly ask for a better one. Does Daniel know?"

I shook my head. "I don't think I'm going to bother telling him," I said. "He's just…he's got too much to worry about as it is, you know? And he wouldn't be able to go, anyway. Too risky to show up somewhere in public, he could get accosted by every journalist in the city. I'd rather just do this myself."

Lindsey looked at me for a moment, like she was trying to comprehend the whole thing. "Okay," she said, finally. "If you don't want me to tell him, I won't tell him. But I really think you should share this with him. I know how much he worried about you getting a showing."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, he was talked about it all the time, when you started submitting your portfolios. About how beautiful your work was, but he was afraid you'd get overlooked and discouraged. He'd be so proud if he found out."

"Proud? Really?" My head was swimming a little bit. I'd always assumed that Daniel was enduring my endless prattling about my submissions and strategies thereof just to be polite - I didn't know he was actually taking an interest in my career as an artist.

"Of course he would. But…I understand, sort of. This is something just for you. Maybe it'll be a jumping-off point." She smiled. "By the time all this calms down, you'll have a showing every night of the week, and he'll be appearing at all of them."

"God, I hope not." I had to laugh. "I'd hate for pimping my own art to become a full-time job."

"Nonsense, you can still actually make art during the day." Lindsey grinned. "But your nights will be exclusively for shilling. That's how Rembrandt did it."

***

It was half past ten at night, and someone was pounding on the door.

A second later, whoever-it-was seemed to remember there was a buzzer, and started leaning on it. Daniel was muttering to himself as he hurried to answer it, and I wasn’t terribly envious of whoever he was about to come face-to-face with.

Then, as the door swung open, his face changed completely.

"Gen," he said, in surprise, as Genevieve charged through the door, waving a manila envelope above her head. Lindsey perked up, over on the sofa.

"We got them," said Genevieve, breathlessly, throwing the envelope down on the kitchen island. "I haven’t even looked at them yet, not that they’d mean anything to me anyway. But I couldn’t wait to come and show you." She stopped to catch her breath, looking from my face to Daniel’s and seeming to notice our confusion for the first time. "Pictures," she said, "pictures of whoever your broker’s been meeting with."

Daniel snatched up the envelope and ripped it open. I watched over his shoulder, and Lindsey came over from the living room to join us.

They were very distant and dark, but from the first few shots I could tell that it was a woman. Daniel started spreading them all out on the counter, leaning down and staring at them closely.

"I know they’re not the greatest," said Genevieve, "but he really did the best he could without getting spotted. It’s better than nothing, at any rate."

"Yes," said Daniel, slowly. I came closer and started studying the photos too. They certainly weren’t anything to write home about, but as I let my eyes drift across them, something was nagging at the back of my mind.

Finally, I reached the last one, and a pang of recognition hit.

"Well?" said Genevieve. "What do you think? Any idea who it might be?"

Daniel was shaking his head. I’d opened my mouth to reply, but I quickly shut it again when I saw him.

"Sorry," he said, "I don’t think so."

"No, I’m sorry," said Genevieve, sighing heavily. "I was really hoping this would be the breakthrough. God damn it."

"Well," said Daniel. "I’ll keep them, at any rate. Maybe something will come of them."

"You could try hiring a private investigator," Genevieve said. "I mean - it couldn’t hurt."

Daniel nodded. "Thank you, Gen. I do appreciate it."

I followed him as he showed her out, and as soon as the door was shut, I grabbed his arm.

"Are you f*cking kidding me?" I asked.

"What?" he said, frowning at me.

"Are you telling me you don’t see it?" I went back to the kitchen and picked up the last of the pictures, thrusting it at him. "Really?"

"You’re making an assumption," he said. "Based on paranoia."

"So you do see it. And you know it’s only paranoia if you’re wrong." I waved the picture for emphasis. "And I’m not wrong."