Second Chances (Dreams Come True #2) Read Online Free

yet to see it.” I threw my hands up in frustration.
    The man walked around to the next section of the gallery, clearly ready to continue wreaking havoc as he went. He picked up a chair and hurled it across the room where it toppled another display case. “I’m better than that and that and that.” He looked down at his hands and realized they were dirty so he wiped them on the wall. When that didn’t produce the desired outcome, he rubbed them on his pants.
    Sirens sounded in the street and I began to walk toward the entrance of the gallery. Greeting them seemed the polite thing to do. Since the door was ajar, I didn’t have to let them in.
    “You called the police!” The man slurred as he stumbled after me. “You called the police on me?”
    “No. The security company did that. I merely came downstairs to see what you were doing and who you were.” I shrugged. “Now I know.”
    “You know nothing,” the man spat. “I’m Gilles Rosemont. I sculpt.” He held his hands out. “I’m an artist!”
    By now several officers had entered the gallery with weapons drawn. One walked over behind him. “You’re under arrest.” The man was handcuffed without conflict.
    Minutes later, the police had him seated in one of the few chairs he hadn’t broken while the crime scene photographer moved through the gallery taking pictures. “We’ll be sure to give you a copy for insurance purposes. We need to talk about pressing charges.”
    “Oh, I’m pressing charges.” I leaned on the front counter and stared at the man with disdain.
    “Do you know him?” The detective began taking notes on a pad he’d pulled from his pocket.
    “Not exactly. He showed up here earlier today and wanted to exhibit his work, but he didn’t have a portfolio…”
    “I have a portfolio!” Gilles shouted from several feet away. “Call my daughter. She made it.” He leaned back, his head against the wall, making a dull thudding sound. “She’s gonna be so mad.” The man looked like he might cry. Then his face contorted in rage and he began to pound the back of his head against the wall, harder and harder until it seemed the plaster might crack.
    “Stop!” I ordered. When he continued, I tried a new approach. “Stop, or I’ll call your daughter.”
    The man paused. A smile slowly spread across his face. “You don’t have the number.”
    Pulling my cell phone out of my sleep pants pocket, I swiped the screen. “I do so. Right here. It’s 514-555-0101.” I pretended to touch the screen.
    Laughing, the man shook his head. “That’s not it. It’s 514-555-0198.” He seemed so proud of himself, until he realized I’d tricked him.
    In my hand, the phone rang once, twice then three times. I felt badly for a moment. The daughter would be woken up in the middle of the night, but quite frankly, why should I have to deal with her drunken father all by myself?
    “Hello?” She sounded sleepy. Of course, she could be drunk.
    “Have you been drinking?” I crossed my arms over my chest while I listened.
    “No, I haven’t been drinking,” she snapped. “I’ve been sleeping. And who the hell is this anyway?” I could hear the sound of her shoes hitting the floor and the creak of mattress springs. Poor thing. She still used an innerspring mattress.
    “This is Sebastian Boucher, owner of the gallery your father just destroyed.” I waited a moment for my words to sink in.
    “Fuck.”
    That didn’t take long. “Any chance you want to come down here and speak with me…and the police…oh, and your father, who’s currently banging his head against the wall?” There was more than a hint of irritation in my voice.
    I could hear her blowing air out of her mouth. Or maybe she was deflating. “Give me the address and I’ll be right there.”
    After I told her, she promised to come right over and I ended the call. Gilles stared at me. “Your daughter is on her way.” The man hung his head. Interesting, he was more afraid of her