Page 114 of Better Luck Next Time

An hour later, Adalia was sitting at a table at the same coffee shop, alone now—Georgie had left to go shopping. Already buzzed from her fourth cup of coffee for the day, Adalia waited anxiously, clutching cup number five.

The atmosphere in the room seemed to change the minute he walked through the door with an air of self-importance that she’d once mistaken as confidence. With thick salt-and-pepper hair and intense eyes, he was still handsome in a striking way, only it struck her as cold now. His gaze landed on her, scrutinizing her as he made his approach.

“Adalia,” he said as he reached her table. “You always had a way of making things difficult. Couldn’t you have picked a place closer to the art school?”

“I flew in from North Carolina,” she said in a dry tone. “The least you could do was take the subway to meet me.”

His nose wrinkled. “Subway?”

She’d purposely made the subway remark, knowing full well he refused to ride in anything so plebeian and full of germs.

He took the seat opposite her and gave her a once-over, his eyes filling with lust. Maybe he liked the businesswoman look she had going on. He’d always been after her to adopt a more “mature” style. “I’ve missed you, Adalia, and I’ve decided to be the bigger person and forgive you.”

Her eyes flew wide.

“You’re willing to forgive me?” she asked, keeping her voice neutral, not an easy task.

“I’m willing to put aside this misunderstanding and move forward,” he continued. “Of course, there would have to be changes.”

“Changes?” she asked, beyond curious what this delusional fool had in mind.

“Yes. We’d need to rebuild trust, of course, so there would be some harsh restrictions.”

“Of course,” she said in a reasonable tone. “First, you wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near my work.”

He blinked, confusion covering his face. “What? No.” He pushed out a sigh. “Adalia, I can see there has been a huge misunderstanding about the gallery incident, so I propose that we use both of our names next time so there will be no hurt feelings.”

“I’m sorry?” she said, fighting the urge to blast him. “You think I’m going to let you claim ownership of more of my work? There was no misunderstanding.”

“Adalia,” he said, his tone condescending. “We both know you couldn’t have created those pieces without me. Me putting my name on them was no different than Michelangelo putting his name on work his apprentices had done.”

“Only, Michelangelo actually did work on those pieces,” she said, shaking her head as she reached for her purse. “Thank you for that. I needed to hear how you’d justified what you did, and now that I know, I look forward to never hearing from you again. We’re done.”

Panic filled his eyes. “You can’t go.” When she got up and started to walk toward the door, he grabbed her wrist and held her in place. “You’re nothing without me, Adalia. Just a two-bit hack who didn’t even have the talent to finish art school. Don’t you eventhinkof walking out on me.”

He wasn’t saying anything new, but this time she saw his words for what they were—a desperate attempt to control and use her. To bleed the talent from her so his own well wouldn’t run dry.

“You know,” she said evenly, “I almost feel sorry for you. You must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel to be threatening an art school dropout and a hack to create your art. Worried the world will figure out that I have more talent in my pinky fingernail than you have in your entire body? You know what they say—those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach.”

Anger flashed in Alan’s eyes, and his hand tightened around her wrist, painfully twisting the skin. “You’re just jealous of my talent and deluded enough to think you can be something without me. You’ll be sorry, Adalia.”

“I already am sorry, Alan, but I’m rectifying that now.” She wrenched her arm free and took a few steps before turning back to face him. “Oh, and if you ever contact me again, I’ll slap you with a restraining order so fast it will make your head spin.”

She left him sputtering about her ingratitude while several customers clapped and cheered loudly. At the door, she turned back and bowed. Then she walked out.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Turned out it was hard work, ruining a man, even if he was the sort who’d left a long trail of destruction in his wake.

Sean had been all too willing to put Finn in touch with his sister, Sorcha.

Alan had put the moves on herwhile she was a student, plus she knew someone who claimed Alan had stolen his idea for a sculpture.

He’d followed those threads, with help from River and Maisie…and found more and more. Some of the people they’d spoken to had attempted to turn Alan in, only they’d encountered resistance from the school. Which made this an even bigger story.

In the meantime, Finn had gotten in touch with a reporter forTheNew York Times, a favor he had somewhat shamefacedly called in with theFortunereporter who’d written about him. He hadn’t given any names, but he’d explained that he knew of a prominent art professor in New York who had a long history of seducing students and stealing from them, and the reporter was on the hook. She wanted what he had.

The question was whether he should give it to her.

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