Mismatch - By Nana Malone Page 0,27

But I want to feel alive. With him, I was starting to feel like an old lady.”

“Jesus, Mom. You are an old lady.”

“I want to travel more.”

“You’ve been everywhere in Europe. Twice.”

“Well I want to travel on the path less traveled. Karl likes to stick to the tourist areas. You wouldn’t understand. I need some excitement in my life.”

Jessica understood only too well; her mother wasn’t looking to be tied down. A sentiment Jessica knew well. The difference was her mother didn’t care about who she hurt in the process. “Mom, you need to be careful with Michael. We don’t know who he is. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Jessica, is it so hard to believe that someone would be interested in my for more than money?”

“No of course not, it’s just—”

“Because he knows you control the trust and the estate. He doesn’t care about that. He wants me.”

He didn't care about the trust or the estate, which, at last measure, was valued at nearly a hundred and fifty million? Yeah right. “I’m sure he does. But it’s my job to protect you.”

Her mother crossed her arms over her chest. “I am not a child, Jessica.”

Then why did she feel the irrational need to ground her mother?

She spent another ten minutes trying to get her mother to agree to see Karl and maybe work it out, but her mother wasn’t having it. And the extra time did nothing to soothe Jessica’s anger. She was going to get rid of Michael Fenton. Her mother might be fooled by him, but she wasn’t. He wasn’t the first guy to come looking for a sugar mama, and he wouldn’t be the last. This reason alone was probably why her father had put her in charge of the estate. Her mother was soft. Sweet, but naïve and malleable.

As Jessica placed the call to her private investigator, she impatiently tapped her nail against the gearshift in her car. When he answered, her instructions were straight to the point. “I need a rush job. Can you find me everything you can on a Michael Fenton? The dirtier the better. He’s late fifties to mid-sixties, claiming to be an art financier. I need the full work up.”

***

“You’ll be happy to know that the situation with the manager is resolved.”

Eli looked up from his makeshift work table in his living room to glare at his brother. “I really have to change my locks.”

Sam shrugged. “Don’t give me a key if you don’t want me to let myself in.”

Eli rolled his eyes and went back to the photos of the counterfeit paintings. There was no discernable link tying any of them together, and he'd hit a dead end. “So did you find someone else you want me to vet out for you?”

“No. Jessica Stanton is perfect.”

The growl bubbled up in Eli's throat before he could pull it back. “You went to see her?”

Sam put his hands up and backed up a step. “Whoa, easy, bro.”

Furious, Eli slammed down his magnifying glass. “What the fuck were you thinking, Sam?”

“I was thinking that for once I have a legitimate manager in my grasp who doesn’t know anything about my past and who can actually help me. That's what I was thinking.”

The cold, icy bucket of guilt was enough to douse the angry fire in Eli’s veins to mere simmer. “Okay. How did she take it?” Now that Jessica knew he wasn't Sam, maybe he could give her a call. She'd made it clear that she wanted things to be simple and uncomplicated. But now that she knew he wasn’t her client then maybe—

“What are you talking about? How did she take what?”

Eli narrowed his gaze. “You didn't tell her that I'm the one she met at the club? I thought you said you explained everything.”

Sam wrinkled his nose. “No, not exactly what I said. I said I'd fixed it and convinced her to take me on. I didn’t mention you or us collectively. I thought it was better.”

“How is that better?” Eli threw up his hands.

“Look. She wasn’t particularly happy to see me, and she was already thinking about not taking me on as a client, so I figured it was better to not tell her.” Sam paused, studying his brother a moment as Eli tensed. “Eli, I need this.”

“Fuck, Sam.” Eli hung his head. “How do you think she's going to react when she finds out?”

“Look. It’s only for a couple of weeks until this opening she was telling me about.