As they walked out, I turned to Mr. Shaw, who was still staring at me. I took a step back. There was an intensity in his attention that was unnerving and uncomfortable. But at the same time it felt good. It felt like I wanted to stand in his way a little longer.
Should I have one of the men stay?
“I thought Nina might be here,” I said, glancing around. If Nina had been involved, she wouldn’t have had Mr. Shaw buy such a mixture of artwork. But I wanted to know why, if he was focused on keeping his money safe, he’d made these purchases without her. The room was completely empty of furniture apart from a beaten-up leather chesterfield set opposite the windows. There were no rugs, no TV. Not even a potted plant.
“I fired Nina.”
Wow. Nina was the most sought after in the business. I doubt she’d ever been fired before. “I’m sorry to hear that.” I put down the small print, concentrating on keeping my expression neutral.
“Don’t be. She told me what I wanted to hear. I prefer people who tell me the truth.” He revealed his values and where he put his energy with every sentence he spoke.#p#分页标题#e#
“She’s very sought after.” Although he’d satisfied my curiosity, and he’d given me more detail than he needed to, I still wanted to know more. But not about Nina, about him. “She doesn’t often accept new clients.”
“You think I made a mistake?” Did he really care what I thought about him firing Nina?
“No.” I shrugged. “I mean, I have no idea. You can choose who you work with.”
“Exactly,” he said, holding my gaze and I felt it slip over me, like warm water.
I shivered.
“Are you nervous?”
“No.” I rubbed my arms as if I were cold.
He grinned and nodded. “I see,” he said. He knew I was lying.
I frowned. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what he saw. “Where did you want these?” I had to focus.
“Aren’t you here to tell me that?”
“You have no preference? Bedrooms, living space?” Why buy paintings if he didn’t even have a table to put his coffee cup on?
He offered no explanation for the emptiness.
“Not really. You have free range.”
“Okay, well I’ll get them unwrapped and then we can decide together. You’ll know the light better than me.”
I bent down and began to unwrap the Degas I’d brought up. I hated to see my secret collection of paintings go—particularly the La Touche—but I was a business-owner now. These works weren’t for my enjoyment, and though Mr. Shaw clearly wasn’t a connoisseur, I liked that in a way. There was something about the art that had drawn him in. Maybe Grace Astor Fine Art had triggered a passion for art in Mr. Shaw—perhaps I would be touching people with my gallery and not just making money.
As the delivery guys brought up the rest of the paintings, I unwrapped each piece from their cardboard, bubble wrap and tissue paper trying to concentrate on something other than Sam Shaw. Eventually, all eight were lined up against the wall opposite the windows.
“So, are you planning to buy anything more?” I asked. I wanted to make sure I didn’t take up space earmarked for anything else.
“I don’t know,” he said as he stood next to me, so close I could feel the heat of his body. “Maybe. I need to find someone to help me. Like I said, I don’t know anything about art.”
“But you like these pieces,” I said, glancing at his sharp jaw as he fixed his stare on the paintings. “Art doesn’t have to be about what critics say is good. You can just have an emotional reaction rather than an intellectual one.”
“Passion over logic?” he asked.
I couldn’t stop my grin. “Is such a concept so alien to you, Mr. Shaw?”
“Call me Sam.” His tone was slightly curt. “You think I’m not passionate?”
The conversation seemed to have veered off course. I hadn’t meant the comment to be personal. I felt as though I was tumbling down a rabbit hole into unknown territory. “I don’t know you,” I replied, wondering if I’d created a dead end in this conversation.
A beat of silence passed between us.
“I think the combination of the two things is where I’m most effective,” he said. Again, it seemed like an unnecessarily personal revelation. But it drew me to him and I couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t designed it that way.
He turned to face me. “Is your reaction to art emotional or intellectual?” he asked.
“It can be either or both.”
“And this?” He swept his large tan hands toward the lined-up works.#p#分页标题#e#