His Other Wife (Beautiful Lies Book 1) Read online

  That Knox Zapata was talented was never in question. Even in high school, his aptitude for art, for bringing out raw emotion in his work, made his teachers rock back in admiration; mostly resentful admiration. Knox showed no interest in most other subjects, even though his intellect was never in doubt; but his position in Seattle society was already set. He came from old money, but after school, he’d been expected to go into his family business—property management. Knox had demurred. All he ever cared about was art, and risking his father’s ire, he turned the business down, and all the benefits that went with it.

  Gregory Zapata had been enraged. His son was throwing the business he’d built from scratch back in his face? Knox found himself cut off from his trust fund almost immediately. With the little cash he’d had left, he’d taken a flight to Hamburg, found Jeremiah, his roommate from college, and begged him for help.

  Jeremiah had come through for him, letting him stay rent free in his city center apartment, introducing him to the movers and shakers in the Hamburg art scene. It hadn’t taken long before the name Zapata was being banded around as the new enfant terrible.

  His reputation as a womanizer was well-earned, and Knox didn’t give two craps whether he was accused of sleeping his way to the top. The quality of his work said otherwise.

  Now, he got to pick and choose where he exhibited. And coming home to Seattle felt right. Was there a little satisfaction to knowing his father would see his son’s name everywhere, and know he was a success without him?

  Sure, that was part of it. But really, it was because Knox was tired. It had been fifteen years since he left Washington State, and every day he was away, it felt like a small death. He loved Seattle, loved the city, the piers, the waterfront, the Olympic Mountains, Mount Rainier rising out of the sky; the people, who were funny, erudite, open. Friendly.

  And he missed his family, god damn it. His younger sister Flynn was the only one who kept in constant contact with him; which was strange when he considered Flynn had only been a toddler when he left. But he knew more about her life than about his twin brother, Levi, who had taken his father’s offer to run the business. Knox and Levi had been close—had been. Something had happened in Levi’s life that he would never talk about, and it drove a wedge between the brothers. Although Levi was initially supportive of Knox’s ambition, soon he appeared to turn cold, and Knox lost contact with him. It had been like losing a limb.

  So now, as Knox dried himself off, throwing back a couple of Tylenol with the cold remnants of his coffee, he knew the real reason he wanted to come back was Levi. And Flynn, but he already knew Flynn had his back. He couldn’t wait to meet her again, probably, in person. Over Facetime lately, they’d been plotting how to get Knox and Levi in the same room as one another. Knox hoped it would work.

  He heard Jeremiah bang on his door. “Knox? One hour.”

  “Just putting my make-up on, hold on to your pantyhose.” He heard Jeremiah laugh as he let him into the room. Jeremiah was holding an envelope.

  “Found this outside.”

  “Thanks.” Knox took it and opened it, laughing when he saw the note inside.

  The armadillo has been retained. We meet as the crocodile swims past the Egg.

  “What the fuck?” Knox turned over the sheets and grinned. “Ah.”

  Hey doofus, everything is set with Levi. Red Mill Burgers at eight tonight? Let me know, love Flynn xxx

  “My little sister is a loon,” he said to a puzzled Jeremiah, who was reading the first note. “She thinks she’s funny.”

  In the cab to the Granger Gallery, Knox watched outside the windows, taking in the sights of his hometown as if he’d never been away. He loved the steep streets, the hustle of the people, the traffic. The day was rainy, low clouds hiding the mountains, and the grey sky made Elliott Bay look dark and forbidding.

  Jeremiah nudged him. “I’ve just had confirmation that the pieces arrived at the gallery this morning, but don’t expect Granger to have looked at them yet. He’s notorious for making artists wait for his opinion.”

  “I know.”

  The cab pulled up outside the gallery a couple of minutes later, and Knox got out as Jeremiah paid the driver. The Granger Gallery was the epitome of minimalism, all glass and white walls. Tom Granger wanted the art to have nothing to distract from it, and very often, only one piece would occupy one of the show rooms. It was a tactic which made the Granger Gallery one of the most respected in the business.

  A young woman came to greet them, and led them to Tom Granger’s office. As they walked through the building, Knox admired the glass walls, the openness of the place. When they reached Granger’s office, he glanced to his left. In a small office, a young woman sat, staring at a computer screen. Her dark hair was tucked up in a messy bun at the nape of her neck, and she wore dark blue jeans and a dark red sweater.

  Knox’s attention was caught not just by the sweet beauty of her face, but by the fact that she looked like the saddest person he had ever seen. She sensed his scrutiny and looked at him. Her eyes, a startlingly bright green, stood out against skin the color of honey, and they were shadowed with violet. She looked away almost immediately, and he saw a pink flush high on her cheeks.

  “Mr. Zapata, welcome.”

  Knox was almost annoyed at the interruption, but then he remembered where he was and turned to the tall, elegant owner of the gallery.

  Tom Granger was in his late forties, slender and exquisitely dressed in a dark blue suit. Knox guessed Saville Row. The Englishman wore black-rimmed spectacles over bright blue, curious eyes. He shook hands with Knox and Jeremiah, his manner easy, belying his reputation for being a hard-nosed dealer.

  “Come, sit. Tea?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  Granger pressed a button on his intercom. “Dahlia, darling?”

  “Please say Darjeeling, please say Darjeeling…” Knox muttered it under his breath, and Jeremiah gave a little snort of laughter, disguised it as a cough, and nudged Knox.

  Thankfully Granger hadn’t heard Knox’s joke and smiled at them. “So… I have to admit, I have yet to look at the pieces you sent, Mr. Zapata, but of course, I’ve seen your exhibits before.”

  Knox nodded. It was just as Jeremiah had said. Granger wasn’t going to kiss Knox’s ass, even if he was the flavor of the month. “The pieces I selected for your consideration are new works. I haven’t shown them to anyone else, yet.” Your move, limey.

  Granger’s mouth twitched. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to ask my associate to join us. If we decide to work together, it’ll be her you will be liaising with. I’m about to begin a sabbatical, for personal reasons, and she’s going to be running the place for a while. Can I ask her to come in?”

  Knox nodded and Jeremiah smiled. “Of course.”

  Tom smiled and picked up his phone. “Hello, lovely, would you mind joining us? Thanks.”

  A moment later, Knox saw the sad beauty open the door. Tom nodded at her. “Thanks, love. Knox Zapata, Jeremiah Hoffmann, this is Anouk Devi. Anouk’s been with me for three months, and I don’t know what I did before she arrived.”

  Anouk half-smiled at her boss’s compliment, and shook the visitors’ hands. “Pleased to meet you.”

  She had a soft voice, but a firm handshake, and Knox tried to make eye contact with her, turn on the charm, but she looked away from him almost immediately.

  As they sat, Tom addressed her. “Nook, you’ve had a chance to review Mr. Zapata’s pieces?”

  She nodded. “I have. I have some notes, actually.”

  Knox’s eyes had drifted down to her cleavage—full, rounded breasts inside that sweater, he noted—so when the room fell silent and he looked up, he realized she was looking straight at him. Those divine green eyes weren’t friendly. Oops.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Your pieces are fine, some of them better than fine, but the thing I’m concerned about is, there’s no cohesion bet
ween the pieces. I couldn’t see an exhibit. No two pieces together told a story.”

  Knox’s admiration for the cool beauty lessened, and he rankled. “I don’t see…”

  “I assume you know our aesthetic here? We need to tell a story, regardless of whether we show two pieces or seven.”

  Man, she was a hard-ass. “Okay, I see your problem.”

  Her mouth twitched and Anouk Devi almost smiled. “Not really our problem. However, I do have a solution.”

  Knox felt he had to save face, somehow, in front of her. Granger and Jeremiah were silent, obviously enjoying seeing him challenged. He gave Anouk his most charming smile. “Please, do tell.”

  It came out more sarcastic that he genuinely meant, and he heard Jeremiah sigh. Anouk colored a little, and when she spoke again, there was ice in her tone. “I’ve been looking over your back catalogue and I think I can make something work if we bring in some of those pieces.”

  Knox shook his head. “No. I’m sorry, that can’t happen.”

  “May I ask why not?” Granger chimed in then, also sounding a little frosty. Jeremiah cleared his throat.

  “Well—perhaps—”

  “No, it’s not personal,” Knox aimed his answer at Anouk, “it’s just… reductive. Those pieces have been seen across the world.”

  Anouk gave him a chilly smile. “The pieces I have in mind have only been exhibited in…” she checked her notes, “Dublin. For four days. Are you saying they can’t be seen here?”

  Shoot. She was good. Knox looked to Jeremiah for back-up, but his friend shrugged.

  “If it makes the exhibit more cohesive…”

  Knox shot him an annoyed look, but then turned to Granger. “What do you think, Mr. Granger?”

  “It’s Tom, and as I said, Nook is the lead here. I trust her judgement.”

  Anouk crossed her legs as Knox looked back at her. “Which pieces? And what story do you think they could tell with the new work?”

  She got up and nodded out of the room. “Why don’t you all come with me, and I’ll show you what I mean.”

  Tom and Jeremiah stood immediately, but Knox waited a beat before complying with her request. He wasn’t about to be bested.

  But twenty minutes later, he regretted his pettiness. Anouk Devi knew what she was talking about, and then some. She’d taken them to where she had laid out three of his pieces in empty rooms in the gallery, and explained why she wanted to bring in the others. She’d gotten the meaning and essence of each painting she discussed, and Knox could only listen as she outlined her vision for his work.

  He was dumbfounded. Anouk Devi captured every nuance, every emotion he had poured into his work, and found connections he hadn’t even known were there, in the pieces she selected. He had to admit, if Granger agreed, the exhibit, as Anouk planned, would be sensational.

  He waited until she had finished, then glanced at Granger. Granger looked amused, his blue eyes sparkling. “Good, isn’t she?” He said quietly, and Knox could only nod, giving an astonished laugh.

  “I cannot argue with any of that. Ms. Devi, thank you.”

  He was gratified to see her shoulders relax, and realized she had been as nervous as him, but had faced it and delivered a proposed exhibit that he couldn’t fault. “I was wrong.” Knox told her. Granger and Jeremiah moved away, whether on purpose or not, but Knox was left with the beautiful, brilliant woman, and for once in his life, he felt almost tongue-tied. “I was wrong and arrogant, and I apologize. May I call you Anouk?”

  “Of course.” Really, her eyes were remarkably hypnotic.

  “Anouk, if you can pull this off… wow.”

  She smiled then, genuinely, for the first time, and something inside him shifted. Christ, she was lovely. “It’s really up to Tom,” she said, nodding slowly, “but I think it would be a coup for us. Not that you heard that from me.”

  “Of course.” He chuckled. “And thank you.” He looked back at Granger talking to Jeremiah. “Listen, I don’t suppose I could interest you in lunch…” He stopped. Her face had closed up almost immediately after he’d made the invitation, and he held his hands up. “I mean, you and Tom, a business lunch.”

  In the end, only Tom Granger lunched with them, which Knox knew was a good sign for his work, but he regretted having to say goodbye to Anouk Devi. He only half listened as Jeremiah discussed the prospective show with Granger, and didn’t even realize Tom had agreed to it until Jeremiah nudged him. “Knox? Tom s talking to you.”

  “Sorry, Tom, I was… sorry, what was that?”

  Tom chuckled. “I’m saying yes, Knox. Welcome to the Granger Gallery.”

  And Knox smiled. “I’m so glad. Thank you.”

  Glad that his work would finally be shown in his home town by such a prestigious gallery.

  And glad that it meant he would be spending more and more time with the lovely Anouk Devi.

  Chapter Four

  Anouk was feeling anything but lovely as she pulled her shoes off and called out a hello to her roommate. Iris came out of her bedroom and groaned at the sight of her. “Oh, lord, I was afraid you’d get caught in the downpour. Poor thing, here, let’s get those clothes off.”

  Anouk was drenched. She had caught the bus from the city back to St. Anne’s, but from the bus stop to their small apartment building, the skies had opened, and she’d had to run through the rain for at least ten minutes.

  She followed Iris into their huge bathroom and stripped off. Iris went to fetch her some thick, soft towels and Anouk cranked on the shower, letting it run for a few minutes before stepping in. The hot water warmed her up, and she hurriedly dried herself and dressed, as Iris brought her a huge mug of hot chocolate. She smiled her thanks at her friend. “God, that was a shocker.”

  Iris grinned as she settled in the chair opposite Anouk, and pulled her legs up under her. “So? How was the rock star?”

  Anouk snorted. “As arrogant as expected. But, kind of cool, too. Eventually.”

  “Wow, he made an impression?”

  “After I’d taken him down a peg or two, which Tom seemed to enjoy.” Anouk sipped her hot chocolate and moaned. “Oh, you made it with the dark chocolate, you genius.”

  “I know you.”

  “That you do.”

  Iris Chang had been the first kid at the children’s home to approach Anouk, and their connection had been immediate. Through elementary and middle school, they’d been inseparable, and even after Iris had been adopted and had moved to Tacoma, they had never lost touch.

  When, on that terrible day in London, nine months ago, a desperate Anouk had called Iris and told her what had happened, Iris hadn’t hesitated. While Anouk was crying on the telephone, Iris was booking an airplane ticket for her online, and telling her to pack only what she needed. “I have everything here, baby. Just come. Get out of there, and we’ll figure the rest out.”

  She’d picked up a desolate and hollow-eyed Anouk from the airport and brought her home, bringing her into her two-bedroom apartment as if she’s always been there. She’d held Anouk as she sobbed out her heartbreak over Shawn’s double life, his utter betrayal.

  Shawn had left their apartment the night she’d confronted him. He hadn’t wanted to, but Anouk had been adamant. She hadn’t wanted to listen to his pleas, his reasons for living a double life. She’d called Iris, and that was that. Her life in London was over. Her marriage…… had never really existed. Shawn had admitted as much. He’d been married since before she’d met him. He’d fathered the children while they had been together. That was all Anouk could bear to hear.

  In the cab on the way to the airport, she’d called Jennifer and apologized, telling her what had happened. “I’m sorry, Jennifer. I’m going home. I just can’t…”

  To her shock, Jennifer calmed her down and told her she was doing the right thing. “Don’t worry about anything, Nook. It’ll be okay.”

  Surprising her again, Jennifer flew to
Seattle to see her a week later. “I’ve found you a position here, if you want it. Tom Granger is expecting your call.”

  She’d hugged Anouk for the first time, hard, kissing her temple. “If you need anything, you call, okay? Don’t let that bastard try to get you back.”

  “I won’t, believe me.”

  Anouk shivered and Iris frowned. “You still cold?”

  “A little.”

  “Well,” Iris got up, “I say we get some hot food inside us and crank up the heat. Screw the vast utility bill.”

  Anouk helped Iris prepare an almost painfully hot chili, and they scarfed it down with cold beer and a boat-load of guac-covered tortilla chips. Anouk knew Iris was worried about her state of mind, but nights like this, just the two of them, feeling safe, secure and loved, were Anouk’s favorite times. Being here helped immeasurably with the pain.

  But it was at night, when she closed her eyes, that the nightmares began. First, they were pretty easy to interpret—her begging Shawn to tell her it wasn’t true, him turning away, walking away, the blonde woman laughing.

  The blonde woman. She’d learned her name. It was Martha. Martha Simon. She was a couple of years older than Anouk, her children now ten and twelve years old. Shawn’s children. How had she not known? The times he worked late, the trips away.

  But when the nightmares changed, they were searing, terrifying. Shawn’s face becoming demonic, his manner violent. I’ll never let you go…

  Anouk had finally figured out why he’d said that to her the night of Ophelia’s show. He’d seen Martha, had known the game was up. Knew it was almost over.

  I’ll never let you go.

  But he did.

  ***

  Knox tried to persuade Jeremiah to accompany him to the restaurant that night. “Dude, come on. I need the support.”