LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

her money was used to build his company.”

      “C’mon, Maximus. That sounds twisted. I’m sure that’s not it.”

      “Isn’t it?” Maximus had never truly felt loved by his father. Arthur had been happy to see him go away to boarding school and college. And when he’d come home, Maximus would be so happy to see him and eager to show his father the reports of how well he’d done, but Arthur could never be bothered. He was always working. For what? A company he told Max would be his, only to give half of it away to Lucius, the son he really wanted?

      “Max, bro.” Griffin grabbed his shoulder from across the table. “Don’t. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t second-guess everything that ever happened between you and your father. It’ll drive you crazy.”

      “No crazier than learning my entire life was built on a lie,” Maximus stated harshly, shrugging Griffin’s hand away. “Finding out my father married my mother for her money and only stayed with her because of it. He never loved her or me. We were both just a means to an end.”

      “Max...”

      Maximus rose to his feet and buttoned his suit jacket. “Anyway, thanks for hearing out me, Griff. I guess I just needed to get some things off my chest.”

      Griffin stood, as well. “Of course. Anytime you need an ear, I’m here to listen.”

      Maximus turned to leave, but Griffin stopped him.

      “What about Tahlia Armstrong? Were you serious about your intentions toward her?”

      Maximus hesitated in his footsteps. No, he wasn’t sure this was the right move. He didn’t relish hurting anyone, least of all an unsuspecting, sweet and beautiful woman like Tahlia Armstrong, but his hands were tied. “It’s the only way.”

      * * *

      Tahlia stood outside Art Gallery Twenty-One in the Arts District on Monday morning and looked up at the white stucco two-story building. She still couldn’t believe she owned it, lock, stock and barrel. Arthur Knight had purchased the art gallery on her behalf and bequeathed it to her in his will.

      A smile formed on Tahlia’s full lips. He’d done this for her. When all she’d ever done was listen to the older gentleman when he came to look at artwork. She’d had no idea that small act of kindness would lend itself to Arthur being so generous.

      “How long are you going to stand outside?” asked Faith Richardson, a petite blonde with a luscious mane of hair that Tahlia would kill for. Faith was one of the main reasons she’d stayed at the gallery. In addition to sharing a love of art, they were also friends as well as coworkers. Of course, she wouldn’t be a coworker for too much longer once Tahlia shared her news.

      Tahlia couldn’t wait for the opportunity to tell Bailey Smith who was boss now.

      “Oh, I’m coming in,” Tahlia said as Faith swung open the double glass doors into the gallery.

      Every time she did, Tahlia loved how wide, open and airy the gallery was. With its white walls, covered with paintings and other works of art, it was her dream come true to exhibit at a place like this. She’d never imagined that one day she’d own it.

      “There you are,” Bailey Smith, Tahlia’s boss, stated as they arrived. “You’re late.”

      The slender brunette was wearing a scowl as Tahlia and Faith approached her, though Tahlia had to admit she was looking ever the fashionista in a navy pantsuit and cream silk top and was no doubt wearing designer heels. Meanwhile, Tahlia was her usual self in a twisted-drape pencil skirt and an off-the-shoulder sweater with a slew of dangling necklaces.

      Bailey flashed a disapproving look at her ensemble before starting in on her. “How many times must I remind you about promptness, Tahlia?”

      Tahlia sighed. “I’ve lost count.” It was only a few minutes after 9:00 a.m., and there were no patrons in the gallery. Most didn’t arrive until just before noon. She didn’t understand why Bailey insisted on riding her. It wasn’t like she didn’t stay late when needed.

      “Then I would think you’d remember to be on time,” Bailey reminded, “but that’s inconsequential. I’ve just been told that our new owner will be arriving to this morning’s staff meeting. Come, the attorney is here.”

      She ushered them toward the back of the house where Bailey’s office, Tahlia and Faith’s even smaller office and the small kitchenette were housed.

      When she arrived, Tahlia found Robert Kellogg, Arthur’s attorney, already seated. She smiled and he returned it with one of his own. Only the two of them knew what she was privy to but would soon be revealed to the group.

      Tahlia took a seat at the six-seater table while Bailey sat at the head of the table with Robert and Faith flanking her to her left.

      “Mr. Kellogg, we’re very eager to hear news of the new owner,” Bailey began. “Please fill us in.”

      “And I am eager to share with you,” Robert returned.

      “I’m just so sorry to hear of Mr. Knight’s passing. He was a lover of the arts. Of course, I had no idea he actually owned the gallery.” Bailey chuckled nervously.

      “He preferred to keep his interests private,” Robert said, looking in Tahlia’s direction.

      Bailey glanced at Tahlia with a raised brow. Could she tell that the gauntlet was about to drop on her? Tahlia was just happy that Robert was here to give the news.

      “As I mentioned to you a couple of days ago, Ms. Smith,” Robert began, “the reading of Arthur Knight’s will occurred yesterday and Arthur Knight was named as owner of Art Gallery Twenty-One, and he bequeathed it...”

      “Will his son Maximus be taking over the gallery?” Bailey asked, interrupting him.

      “No, Arthur had someone else in mind.”

      Bailey’s eyes lit up with anticipation. “Who, then?”

      Robert turned to face Tahlia. “Ms. Smith, meet the new owner of Art Gallery Twenty-One.”

      “W-what?” Bailey’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “I—I don’t understand.”

      “Omigod!” Faith’s hand flew to her mouth.

      “All right, then let me be clear. Arthur Knight bequeathed the gallery to Ms. Armstrong. She is the gallery’s new owner.” He slid the deed of ownership over to Tahlia.

      “That simply can’t be,” Bailey said. “Why would he do such a thing? She—” Bailey motioned toward Tahlia “—is a lowly gallery assistant, while I have been running this gallery for over three years.”

      Robert shrugged and closed his briefcase. “I don’t know what to tell you, but the will is a fait accompli. Ms. Armstrong.” He glanced at Tahlia, who couldn’t resist sporting a huge grin at Bailey’s disbelief that she actually owned the gallery. “If you need anything, please—” he handed her his business card “—give me a call. Arthur asked me to be at your disposal for whatever questions you might have as you take on your new ventures.”

      “Ventures? As in plural?” Bailey inquired incredulously. “What else did he give you?”

      “Good day.” Robert nodded at Tahlia and left the room, leaving the three women sitting at the table.

      “This is such great news,” Faith said and rushed from around the table to give Tahlia a warm hug. “I can’t believe it. You own the gallery. But why don’t you seem surprised? Did you know already?”

      Tahlia nodded. “I received a letter from Mr. Kellogg that Arthur requested the gallery be given to me upon his death, but I didn’t have the actual paperwork until now.” She held up the deed in her hand.

      “You!” The one word from Bailey that came across the table was bitter and caused Tahlia and Faith to both look up in alarm.

      Bailey’s

Скачать книгу