Mismatch - By Nana Malone Page 0,38

didn’t give a shit enough to bother.

“Oh, my fiancé couldn’t be—”

“Mia, love where are you?”

Jessica groaned as Mia’s face lit up like the star on top of a Christmas tree.

“Looks like he made it after all,” Mia said. “Darling, we’re in here. You’re just in time for dessert.”

Michael Fenton strode in confidently. He halted in the doorway, his eyes surveying the scene. When his gaze landed on Eli, he froze.

Eli studied him, frowning. The man looked familiar. His brain whirred as it tried to determine where he knew him from.

It took four long seconds, but Michael finally gained his composure and entered the room. “My God. Samson Marks. You’re a bit of a legend in this house.” Stepping right up to Eli, he pumped his hand vigorously. His stance was open, both hands clasped around Eli’s, big smile, even his eyes crinkled. But the gesture felt insincere. The big smile was in place, but the creasing around his mouth was a little unnatural, and the creasing around his eyes also looked forced, like the smiles little children gave camera-toting relatives when they knew they were supposed to smile pretty for the camera.

Eli returned the handshake. “It’s nice to meet you. Jessica mentioned that you and Mia are headed to the altar.”

Michael Fenton stood behind his fiancée and immediately intertwined their hands. Was that for his benefit or Jessica’s?

Eli’s brain finally finished processing. He knew where he’d seen Michael Fenton before. He studied the older man. His hair was darker now, salt and pepper, and he had also grown a beard, but there was no denying it. Michael Fenton was the same man from the photographs Vince had shown him. Adrenaline coursed through Eli like it did when he discovered a forgery or was on retrieval duty. As soon as he could, he had to put in a call to the office.

“Michael, Mom said you first introduced her to Eli’s work. I can’t thank you enough. He’s a terrific artist,” Jessica said through gritted teeth.

Michael’s eyes went wide. “Eli?”

Shit, was that suspicion on his face? Who was this guy? Eli leaned forward. “It’s my middle name. I prefer to separate my real life and the persona.”

Fenton visibly relaxed. “I’ve seen you paint before, you know?”

“Is that right? Where?”

“Just this grotty show you did in San Francisco.”

Eli knew every exhibition his brother had ever done. He’d been his brother’s keeper for longer than he cared to remember. Sam had never done a show in San Francisco. But he had gone to a rehab facility there. “You mean the one in Sacramento? I’ve never done an exhibition in the city.” Who was this douche bag, and why was he testing him? Did he know? He tried for a modulated tone when he said, “I have to thank you, too.” He said smoothly. “Without Jessica, I’d still be trying to break into this market. You single handedly have helped catapult my career, and I can’t thank you enough.”

Michael nodded absently. “Mia said Jessica needed some clients, and I love your work. “

“Oh really, which piece is your favorite?”

“Well, I have to say I’ve been a fan of your work for years. Even before you took a break from painting. I’ve tried to dig up any scrap of work you’ve done. There was one called ‘Equilibrium,’ about two brothers—the style was so memorable of Jackson Pollock. God, it could have been Pollock. I love that one.”

Eli froze. Was that supposed to be some kind of hint? Through a tight jaw he said, “It’s been a long time since I painted that.”

Fenton smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Come on, son. Don’t be modest. You had a certain knack for mimicking the greats. I would swear I’ve even seen a Picasso you painted before. For exhibition purposes, of course.” Fenton’s apparent good humor held the trace of malice.

Jessica placed a hand on his thigh. “I had no idea, Eli. Can I see that earlier work? I might be able to use it for promotion.”

Panic seized him. Just want he needed: Jessica advertising that Samson had been a forger once. Sam’s career would be over before it even began.

Eli cleared his throat. “They were all destroyed in a fire.” Everything that hadn’t been taken into evidence had.

Fenton shook his head, then leveled a direct gaze at Eli. “That’s a real shame. You had some kind of raw talent. Given your years of experience, I’d love to see what you could do with a Picasso now. I