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Fabien now allows himself a full, uncharacteristic smile. We’re clearly getting to the good part of his plan.

“All the guests here today will receive a folder with their complimentary champagne,” he says. “And next to those folders? Your presentation. Your numbers. Your proposal for the acquisition. In one single party held at my gallery, we’ll destroy the bastard and put you back on top.”

My mind is scattered, and I don’t even know what to think.

“And they actually agreed to come?”

“I can be very persuasive, Jolie.”

“I don’t think...”

“You know how persuasive I can be, don’t you?”

I take a deep breath. This crazy man might be onto something here.

“So, this is it?” I ask, voice wavering. “We’re doing this? For real?”

Fabien leans in.

“It’s up to you. Are you ready to charm and fight for your career?”

“They’re going to hate this, I know it. Worcester Asset Management is going to walk through that door, see me, see this as some kind of ambush, and then walk away. And it will be the final nail in the coffin for my career, and for your reputation. I don’t want to bring you down with me for my mistake of trusting him.”

Fabien takes a step toward me, cups my chin with his hand, and raises my face to meet his gaze. His eyes burn into mine with complete confidence and sincerity.

“Trust me, Angel. Trust us.”

He’s so calm. So collected.

Yes, I do trust him. Totally.

“Okay.”

And then, he kisses me.

And all the noise in my head instantly quiets.

“I told you the other night you’d figure it all out,” he says, “and I promised I would help you. Well, this is it. Let’s do it. Together.”

* * *

I have to admit it. Fabien is a natural in this high-stakes game.

The executives from Worcester Asset Management actually arrive. I honestly didn’t believe they would, but here they are. They come in their big fancy chauffeur-driven cars, and Fabien is waiting for them with a million-dollar smile, a strong handshake, and compliments to make even these hard-nosed executives blush.

Who knew the stoic, grumpy son of a bitch had charm?

I recognize some faces from the meeting that destroyed my career. The managing director of Worcester Asset Management who sat sternly while Steven destroyed me? Well, now Fabien smooth-talks her, and she’s actually smiling. He takes his time expertly guiding a gaggle of Wall Street bigwigs around the gallery, giving them a detailed tour of the paintings on display.

He was right. The champagne and the canapes and the art? They freaking love it. There’s low laughter, the sound of expensive shoes clicking on gallery floors, and the smell of rich cologne. I just stand back with the rest of the staff and admire the man as he works the room.

As Fabien confidently directs them past another Juniper Wren, elaborating on her childhood as an orphan, his passion for art shining through every word, he takes a moment to look back at me from across the room with a smile on his face, and my heart soars. I raise a glass of champagne to him. He’s here, not to save me, but to support me. This gallery used to be solely his. His sanctuary. Now he’s opened up the doors for me.

I’m brought out of my daydreaming by Fabien gesturing me over. I go to him, the champagne glass in my hand shaking.

He wants me to talk to these people.

“This is Jolie Auclair,” Fabien announces to the group. “I’m sure you have all met her before.”