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Another man yelled, “Crap! I bought a piece of art he did three years ago, and now it’s worthless.”
Even Cal Danniger leaped into the fray. “Thank goodness my Lynx print is one of the early works.” He winked at Saskia.
Wren cupped a hand over her microphone, speaking aside to Saskia alone. “Hugo is going to be bombarded by angry art investors who bought something he painted rather than one of the earlier pieces he claimed from you. Because his stuff in the last five years is crap.”
Cal spoke up again. “I don’t feel good about keeping that print since it was stolen from you.”
Saskia waved down all the shouts. “Of course you’ll keep it. You paid for it. It’s yours.” The studio lights adjusted so she could see, and she gazed at the audience as a whole, even those watching on TV. “If you own one of Lynx’s early works, all I ask is that you let me add my fleur-de-lis and my initials.”
Hugo had never actually put his signature on those paintings, since he claimed to be Lynx.
“No one has to pay me more or give it back,” she declared. “Because it belongs to you, the art lover. That’s what artists do—they create, then they put it out in the world for all of you to enjoy. I’m just so glad you loved my early work.”
She glanced into the wings where Clay stood and knew he’d recognize what she’d told Dylan. That you created, then you let it go. Whether the world loved it or trashed it.
From this moment on, she would be able to take whatever anyone said.
She’d forgotten all about Hugo, until suddenly he hissed at her, “You think you’re so freaking magnanimous. But I’ve outed you, and your art won’t be worth a shilling. Just like it was worth nothing before I found you. Then your pretty-boy billionaire boyfriend will dump you like a shot when he sees how worthless you are.”
Saskia’s lapel mic picked up every word and broadcast Hugo’s ugliness to the world.
But she smiled at him. “I believe this audience sees things differently. It’s time you got off the stage.”
Shooting her a last glare, Hugo slunk away, disappearing into the wings instead of returning to his seat.
Steve Stevenson, who’d allowed Wren to handle most of the questions, asked, “Why didn’t you challenge Hugo when he first claimed your work?”
It was the question everyone would ask. Saskia gave the true answer. “Because I was young. I let him control everything. When I found out what he’d done, I was too heartbroken to fight him. Instead, I became San Holo and made myself better than I ever was before.”
The audience jumped to their feet, their applause thunderous. Wren Gardner hugged her. Then Steve Stevenson said, “Oops, we missed our commercial break. Gotta go, folks.”
The cameras stopped rolling, and Clay rushed out to hug her. Adrian wiped tears from her cheeks. Then the Maverick-and-Harrington clan rushed the stage with hugs and attagirls.
Dylan whispered in her ear, “You’re the best, San Holo, or Lynx, or whoever you want to be.”
Then, amid them all, Clay wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her close.
She’d never felt so special or so loved in her entire life.
Epilogue
Two weeks later
* * *
Though most of the Mavericks owned private jets, they’d had to rent a plane that would fly the entire contingent of Mavericks and Harringtons to Las Vegas.
Clay and Saskia sat over the wing. “How did Ava even know what Charlie and Sebastian were planning?” Saskia wanted to know. Just this morning, the couple had left for a quick trip to Las Vegas to get married. Without a single Maverick in attendance.
There was no way the Mavericks would let that happen.
Clay nuzzled Saskia’s neck, trying to steal kisses from the most beautiful woman in the world, but the plane was too crowded for furtive smooching. He was therefore forced to answer her question. “Francine figured it out. She lives in one of Ava’s eldercare facilities.”
The jet engines roared, and the chatter among the Mavericks and Harringtons was almost as loud. Two flight attendants made their way through the large cabin, handing out champagne, juice, and water. Susan and Bob Spencer were seated toward the front in seats facing Matt and Ari Tremont, who cradled nine-month-old Penelope. The twins, Noah, and Jorge were in the rear lounge area, which had been converted into a playroom. Even Jeremy and Dylan had gone back to entertain the kids.
Saskia nudged Clay. “Tell me the whole story.”
“Ava was on one of her regular visits to Francine’s facility.”