“Of course, Monica. I’m more than capable. I won’t bother you.”
“You are, Mia, and if I was a little harsh over the gala tickets then I’m sorry, but it’s always best to stick with what you know. One needs style and panache to pull off such a social gathering.”
Mia smiled, a fake smile, to stop the bile that threatened to spill from her mouth. She comforted herself with the knowledge that Monica wouldn’t know style if it sat up and bit her ass.
Once Monica had finally gone, she stared into the wastepaper basket. She could just make out the edge of one of the tickets under all the scrapped tags. She leaned down and removed the torn fragments from the bin. She knew from the billboards around the city that the distinguished gala would be auctioning off significant pieces of art. It had been billed as the event of the year. How she dreamed of being there, too.
The huge advertisements seemed to be everywhere. They showed two people, a man and a woman, admiring works of art. A glass of champagne held in their hands. The caption underneath read,
The Greatest Gift of all is to Give.
The 3G gala event. Taking poverty off the streets.
Some great works of art from both living and dead artists had been donated and were to be auctioned off to raise money for homeless people. Mia knew Monica had absolutely no interest whatsoever in the plight of the homeless. She just wanted to rub shoulders with rich and famous people. The words social climber could have been coined just for her. All the great and the good of New York were going, along with celebrities and movie stars.
One of the paintings illustrated in the advert was simply fascinating. She knew it was by an up-and-coming artist called Hans Vergen from Cologne in Germany. What she would give to be able to study it more closely. She placed the ripped tickets on the counter and stared at them. Surely now she had the means to go? But what about her shabby student clothes? Monica had been right, she’d certainly stick out like a sore thumb. Her student attire just wasn’t fit to be seen at such a high-class social gathering, and without any spare money, she couldn’t afford to buy something more sophisticated, either. She sighed resignedly. The event was just two days away. Perhaps, it just wasn’t meant to be.
Looking around her work environment, Mia’s gaze was drawn to a set of clothes that had been left for dry cleaning the previous day. The bespoke five-star service had been requested for all three items. All the garments were of the highest quality and in her size, too.
On autopilot, she pulled each dress from the rack and held it up. A red Bellini dress in particular caught her eye. With a sweetheart neckline, it tapered in at the waist and flowed out into a beautiful swirl. An idea began to form in her mind, and then she shook her head. No, it was too risky and outlandish. She’d never get away with it.
Would she?
Chapter Two
Trent Mavers swirled the wine around his glass and glanced around the impressive double-height room. All the elite of New York were present. He spotted some familiar faces in the crowd and nodded in their direction. He’d go and speak to them soon. He just wanted to take a closer look at several paintings he was thinking about bidding on. As a hardheaded businessman any purchases he secured, needed to make sound financial sense. He required a good return on his investment.
He’d marked several items of interest in his catalogue, circling them with a ring of ink from his platinum Cartier pen. It had been a gift from Melissa for his thirty-fifth birthday.
He placed his barely-touched glass of wine on the table, wanting to keep his head clear. He knew exactly why they were offering free wine. They hoped it would loosen the wallets of even the most hardened cynic.
He walked over to the wall and studied the work of an up-and-coming artist. It was a huge piece and had immediately caught his eye. He tapped the pen against his mouth. There was just…no, he couldn’t afford to take a risk on this one. The artist had donated it himself. No doubt he wanted to gain every bit of publicity he could. He hadn’t a pedigree to back it up. Using his pen, he drew a line through the lot in the catalogue with a flourish and turned away.
“Big mistake.” A soft, lilting voice arrested his movements, and he spun back.
Never in his wildest dreams had he expected to see the vision of pure loveliness before him. For a moment, he just stared at the elegant creature. Standing some five feet four, her bone structure was incredibly petite. Pale baby-blonde hair fell about her shoulders, partially covering the sexy red dress she wore. Trent Mavers knew a cut so pleasing to the eye could only come from a top fashion house or famous designer.
Eventually, he spoke, “Excuse me? Were you speaking to me?”
When his eyes connected with hers, he felt something stir within him. Such a color he had never seen before. Like aquamarines, they sparkled as her rosebud lips broke into a sensuous smile.
“I’m sorry, please forgive my outburst. I didn’t mean to speak out loud.”
“Not at all.” He smiled back and pointed to the large painting. “Now I’m intrigued. Why do you think I’ve made a mistake by crossing this painting off my list?”
She paused for a moment before answering, “Because in my opinion, the artist Hans Vergen will become a household name, just like Picasso and Salvador Dali.”
He studied her for a moment. She couldn’t be more than twenty-four or twenty-five, yet she spoke with a confidence that belied her age. “Are you a relative?” he asked somewhat cynically. It wouldn’t be the first time an unknown artist had used a friend or family member to spread the word.
Her light, girlish giggle told him he was way off base. “I assure you the only reason I’m here at this event is to take a closer look at this painting. His style is so unique and forward thinking.” She pointed to some large splodges of color. “His bold strokes and attention to detail are simply sublime. What looks like random patterns are nothing less than the work of pure genius.”
He’d rarely met anyone with as much passion for art as this woman. Her features were animated, and as she continued speaking, he detected a hint of an accent. Not overtly so, but enough to pique his curiosity. She touched his arm with tiny, delicate fingers as she leaned in closer, and he breathed in her soft, feminine scent.
“You really need to view it from the other side of the room.”
Charmed by her now, he followed her and turned back to look at the piece of art. He had to admit there was something ethereal and heavenly about the painting. “Yes, it does have a certain—”
“It’s mesmerizing.” She held a hand up to her face as color flooded her cheeks. “Please excuse me, I’m not normally so outspoken, but I’m really passionate about art.”
He smiled, wondering what else she would get passionate about. “Of course.” He held out his hand. “I find your enthusiasm very refreshing. I’m Trent Mavers, by the way.”
Her tiny hand fit so snugly in his. “Mia Johansson.” Their eyes connected, and he felt as though he was drowning in the deepest aqua-blue ocean.
“Mia, such a beautiful name. It suits you.”
“Thank you.”
“Is that an accent I detect? European perhaps?”
He loved the way her eyelids briefly closed before she spoke. Her lashes brushing together with the merest of touches. “Yes, I’m Swedish.”
He nodded. She certainly looked Scandinavian with her pale complexion and blonde hair.
“Mia, now you’ve convinced me to buy the painting—”
“Are you really going to buy it?”
He smiled. She sounded like a child in a candy shop, full of wonderment and enthusiasm. “You’ve made such a strong case for the artist and his painting that I’d be a fool not to buy it.” He let his gaze wander across her pure femininity. She was beautiful, articulate, and from the look of her clothes, a woman of independent means. This was a woman who piqued his curiosity. She simply made him feel alive. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to buy you a coffee.” He said it casually, belying the importance he placed on the request.
“Oh, thank you, but I wasn’t planning on staying. I only came to see the painting.”
She looked slightly startled that he’d asked, and a knot of tension swept briefly over her brow. Maybe she didn’t want to get to know him better. He had detected an attraction between them, all the subtle undertones and chaste looks. Maybe he was just losing his touch. For such a beautiful prize, he’d try just one more time. “Nonsense, the night is still young. There’s an excellent restaurant in this very hotel. They serve wonderful coffee.”
Her face broke into the prettiest smile he’d ever seen. “A coffee would be lovely. Thank you.”
* * * *
Mia hadn’t meant to speak out loud, but when she’d seen the attractive man standing next to her strike a line through his catalogue, she couldn’t help blurting out the words.
Immediately his charm and sophistication mesmerized her. This man had an air about him that she found very arousing. Confidence simply oozed from him. It was such a simple thing, but had been totally missing in all her male student friends. Perhaps it was something one acquired with age and experience. Or maybe those who possessed it were simply born with it.