I take a deep breath. The words feel like crossing a line I can never step back from. “Your sister.”
Fuck, that came out so wrong, and I quickly say, “I mean, as a fake thing.”
“No.” His face falls flat.
I hold up my hands, leaning forward on the sofa, watching Declan’s face carefully for any sign he’s about to explode. Rightnow, I'm not opposed to begging him on my knees, if that’s what it takes.
“Hear me out first. I need this gallery for my mom. She’s wanted it all her life, and Warne would never sell it. But now he’s willing, and she has no idea. She’s retired from galleries, and he won’t sell it to her. He wants someone young who can run it for years.”
I pause as Declan’s face tightens around his eyes, his jaw clenching and unclenching. He hasn’t thrown me out yet, which is already better than I expected.
“Your sister knows art, and I could help her.”
“How?” His voice is dangerously calm.
“I could give her money to buy a condo.”
“I can give her money.”
“I can give her more, and you know she won't take your help.” The words come out before I can soften them, and I immediately regret my bluntness.
He’s tried before, but she’s stubborn and refuses to take anything from him.
He crosses his arms, and I can see the flash of hurt in his eyes before he masks it. “She won’t take yours either.”
“I think I can convince her.” Doubt creeps in even as I speak. Will Karley really agree to this crazy plan? The same woman who tried to slam a door in my face just hours ago? But I’m desperate enough to try. “It would only be until I buy the gallery.”
“And how exactly are you planning to convince her?” His voice rises.
“She has a soft spot for my mom, and if she knows it's to help her, I think she’ll agree.”
He rises, paces the room, and shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“I promise I won’t hurt her. This could benefit her too.”
“How?”
“I’ll help her find her footing in the art world. Introduce her to the right people and help her build connections for when she’s done with school.”
He rubs his hand over his face before he stops walking and meets my gaze with his conflicted expression. “Alright, if she agrees, I’ll go along with it. But there’s one condition… you don’t fucking touch her.”
“I won’t.” A wave of conflicting emotions hits me. Relief comes first. Declan’s blessing is more than I dared to hope for. But it’s quickly followed by dread as the reality of what comes next settles in. Tomorrow, I have to convince a stubborn, sharp-tongued Karley, who can barely stand being in the same room as me, to pretend to be my fiancée.
Chapter 8
Karley
I’matTills’inthe middle of a class when my phone rings. The women are painting on canvases with wine glasses in hand, their laughter filling the studio. I take a glance at the screen, half expecting it to be a telemarketer, but no, it’s Oliver.
What could he possibly want?
I hit decline and put the phone on my desk to refocus on helping one of the women who’s struggling to blend her colors. My hands move easily, showing her how to create a smooth mix, but my mind is still on Oliver. If it were urgent, there’d be a message, a voicemail, or text. Knowing him, it’s probably something trivial, like needing to confirm my brother's birthdate for some paperwork.
The class wraps up, and as I’m cleaning brushes and putting away easels, my phone rings again. I miss the call because it’s across the room, but when I check, it’s Oliver. Again. I sigh, deciding I’ll call him back once I’m done cleaning up. It’s been along day, and all I want to do is go home, collapse on the sofa to watch some TV, and then fall asleep.
I’m wiping down the table when there’s a knock on the door. I freeze, my heart suddenly pounding.
It’s late; no one should be here.
