Page 11 of In the Frame

Does he actually see beauty? Even in business? If so, I might like him a little more. Still, he’s a piece of work.

“This sounds kind of mercenary.”

“Yes. Business is. And art is a business too. You’re probably too busy with feelings and not spending enough time being pragmatic and researching what sells.”

“Double ouch. You’re making a lot of assumptions.” To be fair, he’s not entirely wrong, but I don’t want to concede the point. Not a chance. “And that’s a harsh way to see the world, by the way.”

Florian doesn’t look fussed. His face is blank as he continues to inspect his fingernails as if they are the most fascinating thing in the world, continuing to avoid looking at me. “Maybe it is, but it suits me.”

“Speaking of, you must be freezing in that wet suit,” I tell him. He’s shrunken into himself, and he’s shivering a little.

“I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long day. Especially with the travel. Now. What kind of art do you do? Or don’t do?”

I laugh. “My art—I’m a painter. Well, I’m meant to be a painter. And for the record, that’s a fine-art painter and not a house painter.”

“You keep saying ‘meant’ as if you’ve failed. Why aren’t you doing it if that’s what you want? It is what you want, isn’t it? Otherwise, I can see the benefit of not bothering.”

“Florian, you truly have a gift with words.” I can’t stop smiling. “It’s because I can’t afford to be an artist. At least not right now. You probably don’t get it, ’cause you’re obviously posh and a successful businessman, but I have loads of bills coming out of uni, and it takes a while to build up an artistic practice out of uni, metaphorically and, yes, practically speaking too. As well as a cohesive body of work.”

“So you know about art.”

“I know some about painting,” I allow. “There’s so much I don’t know about art⁠—”

“Well. You do know more than me. And there’s one thing you can do to help make amends for the spilled drinks and kidnapping situation.”

My eyes widen. He’s not going to ask for sexual favors, is he? Even if he did, what’s my current stance on that? Part of me is insulted, while the other part of me acknowledges he’s hot, at least. It would pass the time. Someone intense like that must be terrific in bed.

“What’s that?” I ask, trying to shush the downward spiral of my inner thoughts. “For the record, I didn’t kidnap you.”

He ignores my quip. “You could accompany me to an art event I need to attend. You could explain the art to me.”

A ludicrous giggle escapes me. “Are you actually asking me out on a date?”

“Certainly not.” Florian looks totally horrified, and it’s hilarious. “This is purely for business. And for amends.”

“I see. What’s the benefit to me?”

“Not getting arrested for the kidnapping.”

“Very funny.” I smile despite my misgivings.

“The art, actually. You might appreciate the art. It’s lost on me. And besides, even if it is an accident, you did ruin a perfectly good suit with your antics at the bar.”

“Antics. Right. I see. You’re becoming an optimist despite all odds, Florian. I take it to think you’re listening to me and thinking we’ll get out of here sooner rather than later.”

“Yes. And also, I suspect you have friends who would notice your absence and file a missing person’s report. Plus, I believe your employer would notice that you failed to return from break.”

That sobers me up, reminding me of my tenuous friend situation in London and that I’m on life support from Kat at my job. I’m only another spilled drink away from being out of my much-needed job. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Even Florian has a pack of friends in London. Grumpy, miserable Florian.

“I don’t know a lot of people in London,” I confess. “I’m new here.”

Florian considers this. “If you’re not making art and you don’t know anyone in London, then you would have time to attend my event.”

I open my mouth in protest. That’s so not what I meant, to give him an in to further his agenda. “Now, just wait a second. That’s a total trap.”