Too Late to Reclaim His Queen

I masterminded a half-billion-dollar art auction to wash money for Miles’s family.

But at the celebration party, Miles gave all the credit to Rebecca. His childhood friend. The daughter of the family’s consigliere.

I stormed into his study.

“Miles, head curator was Rebecca? Are you sure about that?”

He looked up from a cloud of smoke, pulling me into his arms. His voice was a low, soothing rumble. “Valerie, I know you want to prove yourself, but this was all Rebecca. Especially the Caravaggio. The real one, worth three hundred million. She’s the one who pulled it off.”

His lips brushed my forehead, his breath hot. “I don’t love you because you can fix some old paintings. You’re my queen, always. My girl. You don’t have to worry about her.”

I almost laughed. The anger was choking me.

“She can’t tell the difference between oil and acrylic. How the hell would she know a real from a fake?”

“Enough!” Miles cut me off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I know what Rebecca can do. Don’t make a scene just because you’re jealous.”

His hands tightened, trapping me in his smoky embrace. “Don’t disappoint me, Valerie.”

But he already had.

When I’d had enough of his favoritism and his blindness, I walked.

And that's when he went crazy. Scoured the earth looking for me. Begging me to come back, saying he was blind, that he’d been wrong about everything.

The door to the private room slammed shut behind me.

Miles's words echoed in my ears: Don't make a scene just because you're jealous.

Jealous? A scene?

I took a deep breath and walked out into the main hall, my heels clicking on the floor.

Everyone was raising a glass. Celebrating the half-billion-dollar auction. My victory.

“Look at her face. Like the family owes her something.”

The sharp whispers came from behind a marble pillar.

I stopped, watching a few women in expensive gowns trade scornful looks.

“Rebecca was always meant to be head curator. What right does she have to fight for it?”

“Exactly! The Don and Rebecca grew up together. A perfect match. Then this little painter shows up out of nowhere and steals the fiancée spot. Rebecca hasn’t said a word, and she’s the one throwing a fit?”

Little painter.

My fingers tightened around my glass.

“Besides, Rebecca was the one working the collectors day and night for this auction. She was gone half of last month. Who knows what she was up to.”

Miles's cousin, Gina, was the worst of them. “She’s just some useless artist who knows how to mix paints. What does she know about real art?”

Useless artist who knows how to mix paints.

I almost laughed out loud.

They’d never liked me. Not from the day Miles announced our engagement.

But Gina? Who was she to talk?

Last time in Vegas, she’d lost three million at the tables and was too scared to tell the family.

I was the one who covered