He Brought His Mistress, I Brought My Lawyers Chapter 22

He Brought His Mistress, I Brought My Lawyers Chapter 22

The sunset in Santa Fe looked like a perfectly mixed tequila sunrise, great swaths of orange and indigo melting together along the distant ridgeline.

Avery sat in the café of an open-air gallery, her fingertips idly tracing the condensation on her glass. Life after leaving the East Coast was freer than she had imagined.

She no longer obsessed over whether Ethan felt any regret. Instead, she poured all her energy into herself. She stopped reading financial news and immersed herself in Georgia O’Keeffe’s paintings. She sold her shares in the Boston apartment and used the money to rent a studio with a skylight in Santa Fe, where she studied local clay art.

The only trouble was the faint scar at her temple. It remained like a stubborn reminder, leaving her unready to return to any work that required public visibility.

The last sliver of sunset sank below the horizon. Avery drank the final sip of tequila from her glass and stood to leave.

“Avery Caldwell?”

A warm male voice, tinged with uncertainty, sounded behind her.

Avery turned and saw a man standing quietly behind her. He had deep eyes and sharply defined features, his simple linen shirt warmed by the last glow of sunset.

When she turned, a look of confirmed delight flashed in his eyes.

Avery frowned slightly, unable to place his face.

“Do you know me?”

“My name is Julian Reyes.” The man stepped a little closer, maintaining a polite distance. He suppressed his excitement and spoke steadily. “I’ve always followed your work with the art foundation.”

Not a fan.

A follower.

The word choice made her relax her guard.

“May I have a few minutes of your time?” Julian asked carefully. “I’m preparing a support project for Indigenous artists, and I would very much like to hear your thoughts.”

Avery almost refused by instinct. She subconsciously lifted her hand to tidy the hair at her forehead and cover the scar. It was the weakness she least wanted anyone to see.

But halfway up, her hand stopped.

Why should she hide?

“All right.” Avery finally nodded and sat down again. She no longer wanted to be bound by the past.

Julian’s eyes brightened. He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat. Without any small talk, he went straight into the topic of the art foundation. He spoke with poise and insight, clearly well prepared.

Avery listened with full attention. The few questions she occasionally raised were met with precise and imaginative answers.

When the conversation paused, Julian didn’t look at his proposal. Instead, he lifted his head and looked honestly at Avery’s face.

“Miss Caldwell, your insight into art is even deeper than I imagined,” he said sincerely.

Avery assumed it was just a polite closing remark and smiled.

But Julian’s gaze didn’t waver. He looked directly into her eyes, his tone serious but not the least bit offensive.

“Even the scar on your forehead,” he said slowly, “is like an unexpected but brilliant brushstroke. It gives your story more depth.”

Avery’s smile froze.

She sat there, stunned.