When the Billionaire Begs novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Far End of the Table

The Biennial calls a dispute, Carlton threatens her mother's care, and at the Keswick dinner Claire says she will pay it all herself; Carlton leaves her for Odette's fake dizziness.

I did not apologize.

Carlton let go of my wrist and walked out with Odette, and he stopped at the door only to speak over his shoulder.

"My office will call the Biennial committee. When you remember how to treat people, you'll have your exhibition back."

The bell over the door rang, and it took a while to stop.

Then I looked down.

A red ring was already darkening around my wrist.

My apprentice ran to me with wet, furious eyes. "He can't do that. Who does he think he is?"

"Help me finish the prep," I said.

We did not finish the afternoon.

At four my phone rang with a number I did not know.

"Ms. Farris? This is the Regional Biennial office. Your piece needs an administrative review."

"The jury approved it two weeks ago."

"We received notice this afternoon of a dispute. Someone claims the original concept."

"Who?"

"I can't share that, Ms. Farris. I'm sorry."

I hung up and opened Instagram, because I already knew.

Odette had posted ten minutes earlier.

It was a watercolor of an empty chair under a streetlamp.

It was a bad copy of mine, with a crooked bench and a lamp that leaned.

Her caption said: My first painting lesson! Carlton says I have more natural soul than people who do this for a living.

Under it, people she knew had written: Wait, Carlton is giving you private lessons?

Yours feels so much warmer than the original. The other one was depressing.

Odette had answered every one of them.

Stop! If a certain someone sees this, she'll throw a fit.

I looked at the crooked bench for a long time.

Carlton had praised her copy, so by tonight my two months of work would look like the copy.

At six my phone lit up with a text from him.

Be at my mother's house for dinner.

I did not answer.

A minute later: The quarterly invoice for your mother's facility hasn't cleared.

The room tilted.

Three years ago my mother had a stroke that took her speech and the use of her right side.

Carlton had found her a private bed at St. Jude's Long-Term Rehabilitation Pavilion, and the bills went through his family's holding company.

I paid him back every month by transfer.

I called him.

He picked up on the second ring. "Have you come to your senses?"

"What did you do?"

"You leave me, you insult my mother, you humiliate Odette and you make a scene in front of your students." He spoke calmly. "Every scene costs something."

"Carlton. That's my mother."

"I know. I thought you knew better."

I held the phone with both hands. "You're using her care to threaten me."

"I'm reminding you what's real." He almost sounded fond, and that was worse. "My driver will be at your door at seven. Wear the ivory silk. Mother likes it."

When we hung up it was dark outside.

I understood then that he had always known exactly where I was weak.

He had only never needed to press on it before.

At seven I walked into the Keswick house.

Veronica looked up from the foyer and smiled, pleased. "There you are. That's better."

The dining room was full of their usual friends.

Odette sat at Carlton's right hand in a blush-pink dress.

They put me at the far end of the table, alone.

As soon as the soup came, Odette leaned toward me across the flowers. "Claire, I love your composition so much. I tried it today and I just don't have your skill."

"But it has such charm for one afternoon," Veronica said. "Claire, dear, don't take your art too seriously. A hobby is lovely in a young woman. A life of it is a little unseemly."

Soft laughter went around the table.

I kept my eyes on my plate and cut my asparagus.

Carlton's voice came down the table. "Nothing to say, Claire?"

"What do you want me to say?"

He buttered a roll and set it on Odette's plate before he looked back at me.

"Tell everyone you understand where you went wrong."

I put my fork down with a hard click on the china.

"Starting tomorrow, I'll pay for my mother's care myself."

His eyes went flat.

Before he could answer, Odette dropped her napkin and pressed her fingers to her forehead.

She glanced at his face first.

Then she sighed. "Carlton, I feel so dizzy."

He was on his feet before she finished, with his arm around her shoulders. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"Go, go," Veronica said, standing. "Odette comes first."

The guests rose in a rush, fetching coats, clearing a path.

Nobody looked at me.

At the dining room arch, Carlton stopped with Odette against his side and looked back.

"Get yourself home, Claire," he said. "And do better tomorrow."

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