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“I can read the files, but I’d much prefer to hear your thoughts and what you’d need from me.” With two dainty fingers, she traces the top of the manila folder and levels me with a serious stare. No playfulness, and I find her business face quite adorable. “What part of my soul are you looking to uncover?”
“Spoken like a true—”
“Mr. Astor doesn’t have time to detail a plan out, Gabriella. Read the files and sign.” Elise huffs out while I grit my teeth at her blatant disrespect and bite back the retort that sits on the tip of my tongue while she’s giving me what she thinks is an apologetic expression and Gabriella watches us with uncertainty. Moreover, had the little beauty not been sitting right beside me, I would’ve put Elise in her place long before now. I have no patience for the kind of woman I know she is. “Don’t play into the poster-child syndrome of a temperamental artist when he’s doing you the favor.”
“I’m going to ask that you either remain silent or leave, Miss Scott, as you have no stake in this matter. You are neither employed by my employer nor Gabriella, and are hindering this meeting.” Tero’s voice comes across as a low hiss, his posture a little imposing, and I shake my head. This is neither the time nor place to lose our cool, even if Elise is becoming rather obnoxious in her pursuit of importance. “Please let them speak, as at the end of the day, those are the two names that matter in the contract.”
“How dare you—”
“Enough.” It leaves me on a low growl and all three at the table pause, not a sound or movement from any of them. My glare settles on my assistant and Elise, but I can’t help but soften my expression when my eyes meet hers. She looks a bit scared and a lot embarrassed and to me, that is unacceptable. “Please accept my apologies, Miss Moore. It seems hunger has made those at the table a bit pushy.”
“Apology accepted.” Her voice is a bit shaky, but I’m proud of the way she squares her shoulders and meets my stare head on. No hiding. “We’ll leave it at nothing more than a weird morning meeting.”
“Thank you.” Our server chooses that moment to drop off my juice and I smile, shaking my head before she has the chance to ask if we need anything. “And as for your question, I want it all. The beautiful and ugly. The smiles and tears. Your blood on each canvas.”
“That’s a bit grandiose while being vague, Mr. Astor. I’ll need more than that.” If she’s surprised by the request or my wording, Gabriella lets neither show. Instead, she takes a sip of coffee while eyeing me over the rim with the smallest hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.
Tero chuckles beside me at her quick wit, while I fight back my own amusement. “My vision for this season is the jungle of sin, with a macabre theme. I want to highlight the seven deadly sins through your eyes as the main attraction, Miss Moore.” She’s intrigued, her smile widening, and those pearly whites bite softly into the plump bottom lip. So beautiful. “You will have the top floor with the glass dome as a roof and our lighting department at your disposal. The exposition will be held in the dark with those walking the show following each piece by the faint light highlighting each.”
“A dark maze?’
“More like a black hole.” I can almost see the wheels turning in her head; it’s there in the drumming of her fingers and the purse of those damn lips that are driving me insane. Just one bite. That’s all I want. “Now, tell me, Gabriella. Is this something that intrigues you?”
“You could say that.” Shifting in her seat so she’s fully facing me with her knees touching my chair, she giggles and the sound is enchanting. Distracting. “I have the worst obsession with serial killer documentaries and cult mass executions. They’re morbid, I know, but my mind can’t help but draw my own conclusions on each criminal...human nature, I guess, but it’s fascinating to hear the stories from their mouths or those who were present at the time.”
Our server chooses that moment to deliver their food, placing down each hot plate and then refreshing the coffees that are either lukewarm or empty. Without talking, she makes sure they have what they need and then walks away, smiling down at Gabriella who’s the only one that thanks her.
Elise huffs once the woman is out of earshot, stabbing her fork while sliding her knife through the yolk of her poached egg. “That’s sick. I just don’t know how you can watch—”
“The same way you can spend hours at the mall while buying crap you don’t need.” Gabriella’s grin is saccharine sweet while holding her fork toward her friend. “You just do and enjoy the time without judgement from me, so equate it to that.”
“Spoken like a true artist.” Tero nods his approval at her response before digging into his meal. And while they eat in silence, I open the file and place the first page in her direct line of sight, blocking it from view from Elise behind the carafe of water left by the waitress.
Our contract wouldn’t need endless pages of information with hidden clauses to protect myself or my business, the one of many. No. Not with her. I’m leaving it open for her without a single noose tying her to my gallery unless she wants to be, but the money is detailed and fair with a timeline I require as non-negotiable.
Seven paintings.
Two months.
An entire summer at my disposal.
6
Gabriella
Seven paintings.
Two months.
An entire summer at my disposal.
As my eyes skim down the few and detailed lines of the contract, I can’t help but ask myself why? Why is he offering me a five-figure advance with another hefty sum after opening night?
Then, there’s the timeline and the limited number of hours I’ll have. I’m not someone who does well with deadlines; I like to fly by the seat of my pants and paint as the creativity hits. I’ve never done a show in this fashion with such a limited amount of time between signing the contract and delivering each piece.
Can I do this? My eyes go to the advance and it’s tempting—too lucrative to deny when most in my position don’t get the chance to show for the Astor galleries, much less have the owner personally offer the exclusivity of the top floor with its glass ceiling and their private clientele who attends these functions.
The notoriety alone gives me goose bumps. Anonymous or not, the Astor name is one of wealth and affluence—it opens the kind of doors I’ve dreamed of in the past but never had the opportunity to walk through. He owns and oversees each of his galleries worldwide and is known to broker deals for politicians and those with obscene amounts of money looking to add an original piece from some of the greatest minds to pick up a brush.
