Page 62 of Blown

Rafe laughed. “We won’t be deleting anything until after you’ve posted your retraction and Jake has the letters of recommendation in his hands.”

Hélène made a sound of frustration, but it was clear she knew she was beaten. “Alright,” she said, switching from defeat to bitterness. “I will do this thing. But if you go back on your word, I will make certain that neither of you is ever taken seriously ever again.”

Rafe glanced at Jake, victory in his eyes and in his smile. He was gorgeous when he was fighting for what was right. Jake only wished that he could feel truly a part of the victory. It wasn’t a real triumph unless he and Rafe were together. He nodded back to Rafe anyhow.

“Good,” Rafe said, facing Hélène again. “Now why don’t you give us a little tour of all the work in your studio just like we did for you? I think it would definitely be in everyone’s best interest if we knew where all of these brilliant ideas came from.”

Hélène glared at Rafe so intensely that Jake was surprised he didn’t burst into flames then and there. He had the right idea,though. They weren’t the only people who had been affected by Hélène’s lies. The others deserved a right to defend themselves, too.

But as they pored over the shelves, photographing every piece as Hélène tried to make excuses and defend herself, the upper echelons of the art world didn’t seem all that appealing to Jake. The only art he wanted to make might be sold at Hawthorne House’s Renaissance Faire or online in a pedestrian craft store, and the only renown he cared about was for Rafe to want him.

TWENTY

Vindication.That was what Rafe felt as he and Jake went over everything in Hélène’s studio, taking pictures and asking her outright whose work everything was. The feeling of pride that came from catching a cheat in their lies, and knowing that it would preserve and protect the integrity and work of so many young glass artists, gave Rafe a feeling like nothing else.

The sad part was that Hélène had a lot of brilliant, original work in among the things she’d pinched from everyone else.

“This is outstanding,” Rafe said as he admired the pieces of an unfinished hanging sculpture. “Your work is brilliant on its own. Why would you think you have to steal ideas from unknown artists?”

“You do not know what it is like to breathe the thin air at the summit,” Hélène snapped in reply. Her initial feigned grief and panic had melted into stony, stoic resentment as Rafe and Jake picked apart her world. “You have no concept of the expectations that can be put on one’s shoulders or the difficulty in courting the muse when you need money to maintain your life.”

“So you sold out,” Jake said with a frown, tucking away his phone as they prepared to leave. “Every artist has their ups anddowns. All of us experience burnout or get stuck now and then. Instead of doing the work to get your muse back, you cheated people who wouldn’t be able to defend themselves just so you could make a buck.” He shook his head and gave her a look of disappointment that would have withered lesser people.

“Are you finished?” Hélène clipped. “If so, then get out.” She pointed to the door like a cartoon villainess.

“You’ll get started on those letters of recommendation for Jake immediately,” Rafe said. “I’ll text you the address where people can send them. And if we don’t have at least acknowledgement that they’re being written by the end of the weekend….” He held up his phone as a sign of how they would make her treachery public.

“Get out!” Hélène repeated, then turned her back on them.

There wasn’t much reason to stick around, so with a quick look to Jake, Rafe headed toward the door, where they’d left their backpacks, picked them up, and headed out into the balmy Paris morning.

“That went better than I expected it would,” Rafe said with a broad smile.

“Yeah, it did,” Jake said, though he wasn’t half as enthusiastic as Rafe would have imagined he’d be. In fact, he looked downright washed out.

“Is something wrong?” Rafe asked.

“No, no, not at all,” Jake said. It was possibly the biggest lie he’d ever told.

“Are you certain?” Rafe asked. He went on to venture a guess at why Jake seemed so off by asking, “Do you feel like we were too harsh with Hélène? Like we did something wrong or overstepped our boundaries?”

“No,” Jake said definitively, turning to Rafe as they paused at the intersection. “We did what had to be done. Yes, it was harsh, but so was the way she stole so much from so many. The more Ithink about it, the more I’m certain that she ruined at least half a dozen careers and caused young artists to drop out of the game entirely. That’s just evil, if you ask me.”

“Agreed,” Rafe said with a nod.

They walked on, pausing long enough for Jake to call an Uber from his phone. Once that arrived and they were on their way to Paris Nord to catch the train back to London, Jake sent Rafe the videos and audio that he’d recorded.

Once they reached the train station, before they got in line to buy tickets, Rafe asked, “Are you certain you don’t want to change plans and spend the weekend in Paris? It’s the city of romance, after all.” He grinned, hinting at all the things they could do in the city, or rather in a hotel room.

Jake smiled weakly, but said, “Nah. I think it’s best to get back to Hawthorne House. I’ve got to get started on that Global Talent visa, after all.”

His words were right, but everything about Jake screamed that everything was all wrong.

“The Global Talent visa is a safer option,” Rafe agreed.

Convincing the Home Office that their marriage was legitimate and not specifically so Jake could get a visa was risky. Although with the feelings Rafe had, it might not have been as risky now as it started out being. In fact….

“A weekend in Paris would be just what we need,” he said, his mind already racing with ideas. All they needed was just the right spot, a beautiful view of the Eiffel Tower, fingers crossed for good weather, maybe a trip to a jeweler. “You’ve never been to Paris before, right?”

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