Page 276 of Double or Nothing

“Tell her, Bryce, or I’ll tell her my fucking self.”

I sigh, and pull my tie loose.

“Not this again. Stop it.”

“I’ll tell her dad and Cunt Face too, quite happily. Just give me the nod.”

He knows full well I won’t be giving him the nod. The auction is about getting Alice’s work on the map, not about a showdown we stand no chance of winning.

“What are you going to do when Bill fires me on the spot then?” I ask. “Give me a job working on your personal finances and making toasties for lunch?”

“We’d figure something out.”

But that’s the thing. We wouldn’t. And even if we did, Alice would still have a ring on her finger and her socials offline.

It’s my eyes that are like spears as I take hold of his wrist and grab his attention. Properly.

“No showdown, Jack. Just give her a decent auction win, please. She deserves it.”

“There will be a very decent auction win, BT. Leave that part to me.”

He puts Helena Mercer back at the head of the potential bidders.

I look down at the spreadsheet, making sure our notes are properly up to date.

Eleven days until Hammersmith.

Eleven days of Christopher dissing my work while taking credit for it.

Eleven days of Bill embracing him closer into the fold.

Most hurtful of all, eleven days without so much as a fleeting glance at Soul Girl.

When Alice walks into the auction on Christopher’s arm, she’ll believe she’s entering yet another room controlled by her father. I’ll just be a friendly face on the sidelines.

But she’ll be wrong.

She won’t know that Jack and I have spent two weeks pouring our own fucking souls into this.

Jack is creating hunger around her work, moving in online circles he never knew existed. I’m making sure every part of his plan can withstand scrutiny.

He’ll read the room. I’ll have set the limits. And together, we’ll get the result.

Once the bidding starts, Bill will discover something his daughter has already expressed in her paintings. Even the straightest black line can bend.

I just hope the victory will give Alice enough strength to finally break it.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

ALICE

I’m going to be getting married in ivory satin.

Mum thinks white would be too ordinary, and cream would wash me out beneath the lights. Ivory is softer, she says. More elegant. Better suited to my colouring and the floral arrangements.

I agreed without even looking at the fabric.

My bouquet will be a fine display of pale pink roses and some random plant I’ve never heard of. Oh, and classic trailing greenery. I’ve never been a botanist, and don’t care enough to do my research. I just know I’ll hate all of it.