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“Believe me, you’re not getting anything from me after this.” I wait as he fixes himself up, focusing on my phone as I go through messages and emails. When he’s fully clothed, I lead him out of the apartment.

“Call me if you want to have another good time.” He leans in for a final kiss, and I turn my head away, scowling at him.

“Go,” I say, jerking my head to the door.

Dismayed, he leaves, muttering a string of curses on his way out.

I slam the door shut and make a beeline for the bathroom to take a shower. I strip out of my bathrobe and hop in, the warm water calming my nerves despite my growing headache.

Once I’m done, I towel myself dry on my way out of the bathroom. I walk into my closet and dress in my favorite black pencil skirt and blazer that goes well with a simple white top. I take out my black Louboutin heels and then head towards my vanity to do my makeup.

I hastily fix my hair, thankful for my recent pixie cut, before putting on my favorite pair of emerald huggie earrings.

Giving myself a final once over, I grab my bag and make my way out of the apartment. I take out my phone and make a call as I descend the stairs.

“Jonathan? I’m on my way out. Can we meet by the bakery at the end of the street?”

Jonathan’s booming laughter startles me. “Running late today, miss?”

I sigh. “Unfortunately. I have a slight hangover, and I’m meeting a client in an hour.”

“Got it, miss. It’s already rush hour anyway.”

“Thank you! I’ll treat you to a croissant,” I gratefully reply, stepping out of the complex and into the bustling area of Saint-Germain-des-Pres.

“I’ll hold you to that, miss.”

With a click, Jonathan drops the call. I stuff my phone into my bag and head to the bakery, silently praying that today would be a good day despite the rocky start.

* * *

I spoke too soonabout smooth transactions, I think to myself, hardening my gaze at the old lady before me.

“I simply can’t sell this for a lower price, Miss Allair. The fairest price I can give for the piece is €506,120,” Mrs. Dupont argues, placing a gloved hand over my desk.

“Mrs. Dupont. If I may retaliate, our museum curates and buyshigh-qualitypieces.” I take a look at the painting on display before us, a work of Mrs. Dupont’s husband, who is surprisingly regarded as a rising artist in the art world, despite his old age.

“And? What is your point, Miss Allair?”

“My point is Mr. Dupont is still a rising artist despite his amazing works. It would be too much for our museum to acquire it at such a price,” I reason, trying to keep my cool about the bargain.

Usually, clients would be easier to deal with. They'd approach me with their best interests, yet with limited knowledge about how art and money work. Mrs. Dupont is the same, except that she’s persistent about her husband deserving more than what he can offer.

Obviously, I beg to differ. But I’m not about to bring my personal thoughts into the matter. Work is work, and personal relations aren’t needed here.

Despite my advice, however, Mrs. Dupont is relentless.

“This is one of my husband’s life works. Can’t you be kind enough to buy the piece?”

I hum. “Lower the price to €340,900 and we have a deal.”

“No! I will not settle for that low of a price.”

I sigh, already anticipating where this is going. “Do you want my honest opinion, Mrs. Dupont?”

“Yes. I would like to know why you refuse to buy the piece for the price it obviously deserves.”

I push myself out of my revolving chair and walk over to the painting.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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