She was bewildered. “Why would you do that? And why would he agree to see you?”
“I can be very persuasive,” Nate said. “And to be honest, he was glad to talk to someone. Nobody wants to go anywhere near him these days.”
“But what’s the point? So Gil blackmailed Herzog into panning my exhibit. It’s unfair and a big shame, but what can anyone do about it now?”
Nate shrugged. “He felt guilty,” he said. “It was eating at him.”
Elisa let out a sharp laugh. “Oh really? After indulging in all that sleazy scumbaggery on Sinclair’s private island with all those young girls? Saying bad things about my paintings is the thing that he loses sleep over?”
“Yeah, people are weird,” Nate agreed. “We talked about it, and after a few drinks, he agreed to make a public statement. About your show.”
“Public how? Where?”
“On social media platforms,” Nate said. “I recorded it. And I uploaded it for him on the spot.”
She was speechless for a long moment, then swallowed. “But…why?”
“Because I wanted to. Because it burned my ass that they fucked with your show.” Nate took out his phone. “Here, let me run this up to the three minute and twenty-three second mark. That’s the part that’s relevant to you. The guy just never shuts up. He practically talked my ear off. Here. Take a look.”
She held his phone in her shaking hand. It felt hot, from his body.
The video was close-up of Herzog’s face, at a bar somewhere on the water. She saw water, heard seagulls. Herzog had salt-and-pepper beard stubble and had let his thinning hair grow too long. He’d gained weight, and he looked seamed and puffy, like he’d been drinking too much and sleeping too little.
“…of my confession, I suppose you’d have to call it,” he was saying. “My misguided attempt to save my own soul. But yes, I do clearly state, for the record, that I was compelled by Gilbert Clemens. He threatened to release a video that would ruin my life if I didn’t give Louisa Roarke’s art exhibit a scathing negative review. But my life is already ruined now. There’s no coming back from that. So I might as well tell the truth about the paintings that I saw that day.”
There was a pause. Louisa heard Nate’s voice, prompting him. “Yes? And?”
Herzog gulped his gin tonic, his raddled face a picture of misery. “It was incredible work,” he said. “Brave. Vulnerable. Visceral. I could have looked at and talked about and praised those paintings forever. And I had to pan them. I felt like I’d committed treason. As if I had just betrayed my deepest, most intimate—”
Nate hit ‘stop.’ “That’s the general gist of it,” he said. “You can listen to the rest of his blather later, if you’re interested.”
“You got him to say all that?” she said, still amazed. “Isn’t it against his best interests?”
“Probably. The gin and tonic worked wonders. I imagine his lawyers won’t be happy at all when they see this, but I don’t give a fuck. It’s out there now.”
Elisa gazed at him. Her heart felt hot and tender, like it was melting. “You’re amazing, you know that?” she said. “You saved Josh, you saved me, and you just keep on trying to save me some more. You just can’t stop yourself. It’s incredibly sweet.”
He made an impatient sound. “This guy wasn’t any real threat to you. He’s just a washed up, perverted old man with his tail between his legs, holding forth about how Gil Clemens was mean to him, boo-fucking-hoo. He says that trashing your debut exhibit broke his heart, but for him, it was all about his broken heart, not you. I had to keep myself from smacking that pompous dickhead silly. But to his credit, he did a bad thing, and he wanted people to know the truth before he went down in flames.”
“So this is already public?” she asked.
“It’s more than public. It’s viral. I think it has over a million views at this point, and it keeps on racking up more. It cross-pollinated with the news stories about you and Gil and Josh, and then just went nuts. Now everybody wants to see the brave, vulnerable, visceral paintings of the gorgeous, famous, badass Louisa Roarke.”
“Holy shit,” she said softly. “That is really…something.”
“Now with Erebus asking you for your artwork to decorate their flagship headquarters, I think you’re going to be exactly as professionally busy as you feel like being in the foreseeable future.” Nate sounded pleased with himself. “You can pick and choose your projects.”
Elisa grabbed both of Nate’s hands. “I appreciate this.”
“You’re welcome, but don’t thank me. Helping you is helping myself.”
“But don’t feel obligated, okay? You don’t have to keep saving me forever.”
Nate went very still, his eyes wary. “Meaning what? Do you want me to go?”
“Oh, God, no!” she said swiftly. “I’m just letting you off the hook. From being responsible for me, I mean.”
“I don’t want to be off the hook,” he said. “It’s the only place on earth I want to be.”
Her tears overflowed again. “But I really don’t feel like a prize right now.”
Nate’s smile made her heart race “I beg to differ,” he said. “I’ve never known anyone so special as you. So rare and beautiful. I’ve never wanted anything like I want to be with you. You make me want to be a better man.”
“You’re great just as you are,” she said. “But you never knew me when I wasn’t running for my life.” She gestured at her messy, paint-smeared self. “This is the truth. Disheveled, distracted, out-in-space me. With paint in my hair.”
“So hot,” he said. “I can’t wait to know you better. And let’s not forget Kimball. We have to be careful. As careful as we ever were before. He’s watching both of us.”
“Oh, fuck Kimball,” she said impatiently. “I don’t have the juice to be scared of him, too. I’m exhausted with being scared.”
“Far-fucking-out. That’s going to make it real interesting to guard you.”
“I’m a mess, Nate,” she admitted. “I cry, all the freaking time. I have constant nightmares. I’m so jumpy, I hit the roof whenever the phone rings. I have fits of being so angry I want to break things. I need to do all this complicated salvage work on myself to be whole again, and I don’t even know where to start. Are you sure you want to take this on?”
He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. “Do all the salvage work you want,” he said. “Take your own sweet time at it. Just let me watch your back while you do it. As long as it takes. Hell, I’m a basket case, too. I almost lost you. That’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.”
“Damn it, Nate. You’re making me cry,” she complained.
“All I want is to be with you.” Nate handed her some tissues, and pulled out a little ring box from his pocket.
He opened it, revealing a stunning, square cut ruby ring, deep and fiery, surrounded with small, glittering diamonds. “I love that color on you,” he said.