“Do you have plans tonight?” I asked. I wasn’t going to back down.
“That’s not the point. I’m saying that I don’t think it’s—”
“So, you don’t have plans. I’ll be at the gallery to pick you up at six thirty.”
I hung up the phone. I’d arrive early. She wasn’t about to lock up before closing time to avoid me, and if she hadn’t come to terms with the fact she’d be coming back to my place by the time I arrived, I was pretty sure that in person I could convince her.
A kiss, maybe, to ensure capitulation.
Chapter Six
Grace
Sam Shaw had hung up on me. Typical spoiled billionaire, expecting everyone to dance to his tune, do whatever he said. I didn’t have the time or the inclination to be his art consultant. I needed to concentrate on the gallery. Steve’s show had brought us a lot of attention and I had to capitalize on that. I still had four big pieces of his to sell and there was growing interest in his previous work, which we’d agreed I’d get a higher commission rate for.
Playing nursemaid to a man who wanted nothing but someone to tell him what was going to make money wasn’t what I’d opened the gallery to do, even if he had purchased the pieces from me before he knew whether or not they were a good investment. I wanted to nurture new talent and feed people’s soul with old masters, not just make rich guys richer. Despite Steve being a terrible boyfriend, and looking back, not a particularly nice person, no one could deny he was talented. And I was proud that Grace Astor Fine Art had been able to launch his career. That was the kind of thing I wanted to focus on.#p#分页标题#e#
And I certainly didn’t want to be near a man I wanted to kiss. It was the last thing I needed. I didn’t trust my lips, my body, my heart at the moment. Especially with someone as spoiled as Sam Shaw.
My cell chimed on my desk. It was Steve’s new agent, who he’d signed with a couple of days after the opening. I’d never come across her before, which didn’t bode well—a bad agent could be worse than no agent at all—but it didn’t have anything to do with me anymore.
“Hi, Victoria,” I answered.
“Grace, I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to let you know we don’t need you to do any more work on Steve’s historic pieces,” she said, her voice as breezy as if she’d called to tell me my dry cleaning was ready to be collected.
My brain started to whir. “What do you mean ‘work’?”
“Just that we’ve decided to go in a different direction, and we won’t need you to sell any of them.”
My body tensed. “That wasn’t the deal I made with Steve. He said I could sell his older stuff at the standard commission rate.”
“Do you have a copy of the contract you could send me?” She knew full well I had nothing in writing. The guy had been my boyfriend. I’d trusted him.
“Steve gave me his word. Is he there? Can I speak to him?”
“He’s not here, and I’m sorry, but that’s not the way he remembers things. Grace, I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but I need to act in my client’s best interests. He needs to be with a bigger gallery.”
Jesus, he wouldn’t have even met this agent if it hadn’t been for my gallery. It just wasn’t fair.
“I’m not going to take away your commission for his sold pieces,” she continued. “I believe there are four works that are yet to sell, and I’ve arranged for those to be collected this afternoon. You understand, don’t you?”
I got that I was being fucked over loud and clear. The commission from the older work would have meant I could relax a little—not have to worry about rent next quarter. I’d thought I was on my way when in fact Steve’s exhibition had been a false start. My ex-boyfriend was a moral wasteland. But I’d learn and get everything in writing next time.
I really wanted to tell her to go fuck herself, but I didn’t have the energy.
“You better get your guys here fast.”
Victoria laughed as if I couldn’t be serious. “They should be there any moment.” As if by magic, the bell over the door tinkled and two men carrying tissue paper and bubble wrap entered.
I hung up the phone.
“You have four paintings for us to collect?” the taller guy bellowed from across the room. “If you just point to them we’ll pack them up and be on our way.”
I pushed the breath out of my lungs, trying to calm myself, but as I leaned against the desk, the room rolled as if I was on a boat. I closed my eyes. I needed to keep it together until I’d gotten rid of these paintings, then lose it and drink a bottle of wine by myself.