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Chapter Forty

I t was early morning at the gallery. Hillary sat at her desk, reminiscing about last night’s sexathon with Hank.

He’d played poker with the guys the night before last and had been busy until last night.

He’d left earlier for a job in Tampa, and she already missed him.

Well, not him per se but the sex. She had always been a sexual animal.

Keith had satisfied that part of her. Between her and Claire, he could never get enough sex.

But ol’ Keith was dead, and Hank was in her life right now.

However, she knew Hank was looking for someone more permanent, and that wasn’t her.

When this job was over, she was quitting this dump and finding something and someone better—someone who could generously provide for her like Keith.

However, this time around, she would be a lot smarter about who she accepted.

Clients wouldn’t be coming in until the afternoon.

Claire had the day off. It was just her until Roman came in after lunch.

Roman. He had been away for a couple of days after attending a two-day symposium in Washington, D.C.

Since then, he had been a little squirrelly, hinting he needed to speak with her.

But the gallery had been so busy, they never had time to chat.

But he’d been looking at her suspiciously.

She was sure it wasn’t to give her a raise, so her guess was he found out that she lied on her application, which wouldn’t do at all.

Roman was not going to ruin her plans for Claire.

The phone rang, and she answered it. Another stupid artist was looking for his check. Why couldn’t she have a little peace to figure out what Roman knew or didn’t know?

She snapped her fingers. Yes! She had the key to Roman’s desk.

Yet another numbnut who didn’t pay attention.

She grabbed the key, locked the front door and walked over to his office.

She opened the door. The stupid man never locked it.

Not that that would have kept her out, but still, anyone could just waltz in.

She glanced around the large room. He had a couple of modern paintings placed around the room that she never liked, several silver modern art sculptures, and over the filing cabinets was one of Claire’s paintings.

The one of the ocean with swirls of color—happy colors.

Looking at it pissed her off. She couldn’t get rid of Claire, no matter how hard she tried.

Hillary suspected Roman had a crush on Claire even though he never acted on it, plus he had a girlfriend who put up with his flirting.

Joe would probably kill him and hide his body if he knew how much Roman flirted with Claire

She sat at his desk, gently rubbed the tigerwood finish.

She listened for anyone moving around. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Took out the key she had copied a few weeks ago thinking it might come in handy and opened a side drawer.

She flipped through files of clients, customers, and bills of lading.

Nothing of interest to her. She didn’t need a key to the other side.

It held information on openings, menus, advertising. Bah.

She opened his computer. Easy peasy if one stood over another’s shoulder and watched them put in the password. The screen opened. She poked around but didn’t see anything of interest. Turned it off. Maybe he had something on his laptop at home. That would be a problem for another day.

One more drawer to look in. Hillary turned her attention to the middle drawer.

Locked. She opened it with her key. Carefully pushed around the pens and pencils, business cards.

He certainly didn’t need a locked drawer for that.

She reached her hand toward the back. He had shoved some papers back there.

She pulled them out. She stared at a picture of her with her real name.

How the hell did he get that? She’d been so careful with her fake ID.

Behind that was a letter from her former law firm.

Not even a flattering one. Then more information about her.

The condo that wasn’t in her name, her very intimate relationship with Keith.

How did so many people know about that? She thought they were careful.

Speculation, probably. It didn’t matter.

It was all spelled out in black and white, although there was nothing in there about how Keith had screwed her.

Her hands trembled as she put the papers back.

How could this happen? She had been so careful putting together a background for herself.

Had Roman hired a detective? He must have, to have her complete history.

She reread the report. Her former co-workers had not been flattering of her.

No surprise there. The lawyer who replaced Keith had nothing good to say either. Traitors all.

Her heart was pounding in time to the stupid clock Roman had in his office. Sweat poured over her brow, and with trembling hands, she put the report back and locked the drawer. Sat there for a minute, inhaling deep breaths of air. Exhaled.

She pushed back in the chair. No one and she meant no one was going to get in the way of her dealing with Claire. She lost everything once to the bitch. She wasn’t going to lose it again .

It was getting late, and Roman would be in shortly. She needed a plan.

Roman came racing in in late afternoon. He had called earlier to tell her that he was running late. Several customers wanted to purchase paintings, and they didn’t have a break until he closed the shop.

He turned the open sign around and looked over at her.

“Hillary, come into my office. I want to speak with you.”

Hillary looked up. Game on.

She smiled and said, “Is everything okay?”

He shook his head and walked into his office and sat down. Hillary picked up a pen and pad and walked into his office. Closed the door.

“What’s going on? Can I help in any way?” she asked, putting an innocent look on her face.

Roman looked at her for a moment. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Then he opened his middle desk drawer, took out the report and placed it on his desk.

“It’s come to my attention that you”—he cleared his throat—“lied on your application.”

“Lied?” Hillary clenched her teeth. She felt her face flush, and she wondered how long she could keep the pretense up and her anger down.

“Yes, lied.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, when I was away, I met the owner of the gallery you stated on your application that you worked for. He’d never heard of you.

I then checked with a friend who is a private detective, and he informed me that a fake license could be had for just $350 and fake references for a fee also.

Then I had him check out your license number, and your car is registered in New York under a different name.

It was easy after that to fill in your personal history.

You haven’t had any experience working in an art gallery.

You were just a secretary in a law firm. ” He glared at her. “Shall I go on?”

Secretary? Secretary. Damn it. She had been Keith’s administrative assistant with more authority than anyone knew. That was the problem with people. She would always be a secretary, never anything more.

“I can explain.”

He shook his head, placed his hands on his desk.

“You could, but quite frankly, I don’t care to hear it.

I’m in a sensitive business with lots of money on the line.

My clients deserve discretion, and your lying tells me you are not the person I want to work in my gallery.

You’re fired. Get your things, and don’t come back. ”

Hillary sat back. Getting fired was not unexpected. But if Roman thought she would quietly leave and not come back, he was sadly mistaken. She also couldn’t have him confessing anything to Claire. He wouldn’t be ruining her plans.

“Goodbye, Hillary.” He stood up and turned his back to her and walked over to look out his window. Dismissed her like she was nothing. Not happening.

Without too much thought, Hillary picked up the silver driftwood sculpture sitting on his desk. The sculpture Roman particularly liked. She quietly walked up behind him, swung the sculpture high and connected with his head. Then hit him again and again, just for good measure.