Page 11 of An Heir For Her Enemy

CHAPTER 6

DELANEY

Delaney was out on a run.

It was late — past ten o’clock at night — but her neighborhood was relatively safe and she was in desperate need of exercise to clear her head. It had been a long day. One of her clients, Carmen, had called her up at the last minute to look into a piece of street art in Brooklyn. Then she’d spent nearly an hour on the phone with Carmen going back and forth about whether to make an offer on the art. By the time Carmen had decided not to make an offer after all, Delaney was tired and frustrated.

The worst part was that, like all her other clients, Carmen cared only about how much the piece would be worth. She didn’t care that it made a statement on the rights of elderly people and the difficult process of aging in today’s society. It didn’t matter to her that the artist had spent a lifetime traveling and adventuring and that he’d made this piece out of his pain that he couldn’t do that anymore as he got older. Carmen only cared about the bottom line.

Of course, she wasn’t unique in that way. Even Logan, who Delaney had thought might be different, had only wanted to collect art so that he could hide it away in a penthouse somewhere for his wealthy friends to admire. For him, art would always be about prestige — and apparently, a beautiful evening would only be about sleeping together.

Delaney may also have been a little annoyed about that whole situation.

She pushed herself to speed up a little as she crested the top of a small hill and ran down towards a park. The streetlights cast her path in bright yellow light and Delaney still had to dodge people here and there, but at least she was running. She felt her lungs expand and her legs begin to burn. It was nice to focus on something other than how frustrating her clients could be and how much she wanted her own gallery.

Just as she was picking up speed on an empty stretch of sidewalk, her phone dinged. Delaney always left her phone on ring mode in case a client needed to contact her with something urgent. Annoyance flaring again, she slowed to a walk and fished the phone out of the pocket of her jogging pants.

The email icon on her phone showed that she had one new message. She clicked on it, and her eyes went wide.

Dear Delaney,

We met at a gallery opening several weeks ago and I was impressed by your work. I would like to offer you a short-term job authenticating a specific piece of art. This job will require travel to Rome for three days next week, departing on Tuesday October 4th.

Delaney’s mouth dropped open as she read the first paragraph. Was this new client really offering to fly her to Rome? Delaney had always wanted to travel to Italy. She loved the painters, the food, the language — everything. This was a dream come true. Plus, a new client was always an opportunity to find someone a little more real than the shallow people she usually worked with.

Delaney gave a little dance of happiness. Even without knowing much about the job, she was very excited.

She lifted her phone again to read the rest of the email. After another quick skim of the first paragraph, she continued to the next. The second paragraph included information about compensation, and Delaney’s mouth fell open again. This client was offering an enormous sum for only four days of work. It was enough that she would be able to open her gallery now, instead of working for several more years with wealthy clients. Who was this person? Delaney tried to remember if she’d made such an impression on anyone during the last few gallery openings she’d attended, but she didn’t think so.

Finally, she looked at the last paragraph.

I hope you will be open to working together and I look forward to your answer.

Sincerely,

Logan Banks

No. No, no, no. Delaney closed the email. How could this be happening? The offer was amazing, but there was no way she could work with Logan. He was a complete jerk. No amount of money would be enough for her to agree to an international tripwith a guy who had walked out on her the morning after they had slept together without a backwards glance.

Delaney wasn’t even going to answer. She put her phone back in her pocket and continued her run, fuming. The nerve of this man. After he’d walked out on her, he was contacting her as though they were strangers to try to hire her. She could hardly believe that anyone would be this bold. Did he really think she would agree to work for him after they’d slept together and ended things on a bad note? Or, worse, did he somehow notrememberher?

Delaney jogged for longer than she’d planned before heading home for a long shower and bed. After turning off the lights, though, she lay awake for a long time. Logan’s offer replayed in her head. She was very upset by how he’d reached out. Yet some tiny part of her couldn’t let go of the money he was offering. With that kind of money, she’d be set up to achieve her dreams without waiting.

By the time the morning sun spilled through her window, Delaney felt like she hadn’t slept at all. She dragged herself out of bed with a yawn; she couldn’t just go back to sleep. She had her weekly brunch with one of her best friends, Cora, who also worked for herself and had time to hang out in the middle of the week. Maybe Cora would have an answer to what Delaney should do about this strange offer.

Delaney got dressed in a pair of jeans and a warm sweater. The late September air was chilly, and Delaney already missed summer. When she and Logan had walked together, she’d worn only a light jacket and her formal dress. Now, she was already starting to bundle up.

Delaney walked to the restaurant, where Cora was waiting at their usual table. The women hugged, and Delaney took a seat.

“What’s new with you?” Cora asked, handing Delaney a menu.

“Not much.” Delaney hesitated. “That’s not true. I got such a weird job offer today.”

“A weird job offer.” Cora raised her eyebrows over the menu. “I’m intrigued, especially since you didn’t say you were looking for more work.”

“I wasn’t.” Delaney set her menu flat on the table and leaned forward. “This work found me.”

“Juicy. And lucky.” Cora was a photographer and, although clients did reach out to her on a fairly regular basis, she knew the struggle of finding work in New York City.

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