Chapter 6
Peter walked out of Horace’s gallery wondering what had happened.
How could things have gone so wrong? How did simply checking out the competition go so wrong?
He wanted to help Alexis with her gallery, but she wouldn’t even let him explain.
Maybe he should have told her before he went to Horace’s gallery, but he didn’t expect to be there long or to see Alexis there.
He shook his head, knowing he couldn’t put this off. Walking three doors down, he entered her gallery.
She was headed to the back of the space.
“Alexis. I need to talk to you.”
She turned toward him. “I don’t think we have anything to say to each other. You were in the gallery of my enemy. Are you providing him with a painting, too?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
The movement pushed her breasts up, giving him a tantalizing view of her cleavage. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “I wasn’t doing that. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Then why would you go there?”
“I went to see what he had in his gallery that would make it more popular than yours. I went to scope out your enemy, not to betray you.”
She dropped her arms to her sides, all the fight going out of her. “I’m sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusion. It just took me by surprise and well, I have a hard time trusting.”
“You should know me better than that.”
Alexis cocked her head to one side. “Should I?” She lifted her head and straightened her shoulders before crossing her arms over her chest again.
“What do we really know about each other? I know you were running from reporters, gallery owners, and others who want a piece of you. I know you got stuck at my cabin in a blizzard and that you’re a famous painter and billionaire. But what else do I know?
“I mean, what’s your favorite color? Your favorite food or meal?
What do you like to drink; wine or beer or maybe a cocktail?
What are your hobbies? What about your family?
I know you have four brothers and one sister.
Are you close? Estranged? What about your parents?
Are they dead or alive?” She blew out her breath.
“Do you see my point? What do we really know about each other?”
“We spent three full days together. We know a lot about each other. Maybe not everything but—”
“We spent that time talking about painting and art and some of our pasts. Well, my past. We didn’t get into much of yours. Not the important stuff for a relationship, and that is what I want to sell to Horace. I want him to think we’ve formed a relationship since you came to Aspen.”
Peter ran a hand through his hair. “We do?”
“We do. I want to throw Horace off-balance. If he thinks I’m dating you, Peter Kincaid, billionaire, he’ll realize there is nothing he can do to my gallery that you couldn’t fix.”
She paced in front of him, then stopped abruptly. “Come to my office. If anyone comes in today I’ll hear them and I want to sit down.” She turned and walked toward the back of the gallery.
He followed her. “You sound like you don’t get many tourists in? But this is ski season. You should have a lot of traffic.”
She shook her head as they walked into her office.
“You’re right, it is ski season, which means almost everyone is on the slopes, not touring the town.
I used to keep longer hours, hoping to get some after-dark customers, but it didn’t pan out.
After a day on the slopes, all they want are drinks and food.
The restaurants and bars do a booming business this time of year. I do better in the summer.”
“Do you get a lot of buyers in the summer?”
She walked behind her desk and motioned for him to take the chair in front of it. “I do, because I carry a lot of local artists. That’s one reason why I want one of your pieces so badly.”
“I’m not exactly a local artist.”
“No, but you’re a Colorado artist, a world-renowned artist. Everyone who comes to town will want to see your new painting. Especially if it’s something you’ve never done before. And then, hopefully, that will lead to sales of the other paintings.”
Two doors down from where Alexis filled Peter in on her plans, Horace listened to his lawyer on the phone.
“You don’t understand. I want that building.
I want that gallery. Mine will be the only one, on this side of town for the Aspen fine arts scene.
I want to be the one who decides who and what are available to see.
I want complete control, and owning that building is the most important thing right now.
I want Alexis Armstrong out of there and I don’t care what you have to do to make that happen.
” Horace slammed his phone on the desk. His frustration was such that he didn’t care if he broke it or not.
Suddenly, he stood, unable to stay in the chair. He paced to the window and then back, past the desk, to the wall. Again and again. What would the lawyer do to get Alexis out of the building and should he be worried?
Alexis woke to the sound of her phone going off. She looked at the alarm clock, a holdover from her long-ago college days. Six o’clock. Who would be calling her at six o’clock in the morning? The gallery didn’t open until ten.
She picked up her phone and hit the green button. Great. Her mother. “What?”
“Is that anyway to talk to your mother?”
Alexis closed her eyes and huffed out a breath. “Why are you calling me so early, Mom?”
“Early? It’s eight o’clock.”
“Not in Aspen. Where are you, anyway?”
“Oh, silly me. I’m sorry, Ally. We’re in New York. We got in last night and I guess I wasn’t thinking about the time difference.”
Alexis pushed her red curls off her face. “What are you doing in New York?”
“We’re taking that cruise I told you about.”
After sitting up, Alexis swung her legs over the side of the bed. “What cruise? You never said anything about a cruise.”
“Sure, I did. Remember when I told you Dad and I wanted to take a cruise to Italy?”
“Mom, I was fifteen when you said that.”
“Yes, well, we’re taking it now.”
“How am I supposed to put those two things together? Something you told me nearly fifteen years ago with you taking a cruise now? That makes no sense.”
Her mother sighed. “You really are a bear first thing in the morning. I couldn’t wait though, because we’re boarding in a few minutes. I just wanted to tell you we’re leaving, and we’ll be gone for a month.”
“A month! What did you do with Roscoe?”
“He’s with the Adamses. He’s fine. He’ll get to play with Chloe every day. Nothing could be better for him.”
“So you called me to tell me about the cruise. Anything else?”
“Well, yes. We got a strange call yesterday from some lawyer. He wanted to know if we had any investment in your gallery. Your father told him it wasn’t any of his business and hung up. Still, we thought it was odd and that you should probably know about it.”
“Thanks, Mom. I do want to know about it. Horace has been stepping up his harassment lately, but I have someone on my side now who will hopefully make him stop.” She realized her left hand had formed a fist and made it relax.
“Well, I hope you’re right, dear. I have to go now. Our group is being called. Love you, sweetie. Dad says he does, too.”
“Love you both. Have a good time.”
“We will. Bye now.”
The call ended.
What was Horace up to now? Why would he think my parents had anything to do with the gallery? And what will he do if he learns they do?