Julian looked from me to the name printed on the wall and read it twice. Whatever he had expected to find at the gallery, it had not been this.
My burgundy slip dress left my back bare, and I had pinned up my hair to expose my neck and shoulders.
Silver-haired critics listened when I spoke. Gallery owners shook my hand and asked where they could see my next work.
The respect in that room had cost me charcoal, paint, and weeks without sleep. None of it carried the Foster name.
Julian left Mia at the entrance and pushed through the crowd. She reached for his sleeve and missed.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His hand closed around my upper arm, hard enough to bruise, and he pulled toward a secluded alcove. “This circus is over. You’ve had your fun.”
I planted my feet. “Let g
