Page 55 of For the Love of Art

“Outside?”

Dori nodded. “Yep. That’s what he said.”

I walked out of the gallery to see a town car similar, or maybe even the same, as the one we had taken to his apartment. I opened the back door closest to the sidewalk. Nathan sat on the far leather seat, talking on his phone. He gestured for me to get in, and I did. I looked to the front to see the same driver who had taken us before, and I suppressed a smile.

“Sorry about that,” Nathan said, pulling me from my thoughts.

“It’s okay. Why did you call me out here?”

“You remember the painting?”

I swallowed. “The one at your…”

“Yes.” Nathan nodded. “That one.”

“What about it?”

“The artist offered to meet with me and discuss putting his work in my gallery. Specifically, this one.” He gestured to the building I’d just walked out of.

I leaned back in my seat. “We never really discussed him. We established his work is incredible but not what’s fashionable in art right now.”

“His online hits are remarkable.”

“That doesn’t translate to sales.”

We both fell silent, eyes locked. His cologne filled the vehicle like some kind of aphrodisiac, and I wanted to fling myself at him.

“I believe that if you and I team up on this, it will.”

His eyes were filled with confidence and determination.

I looked down at my knotted hands. If preparing for this show had taught me anything, I might not be cut out to create art shows.

“I’ve seen how stressed you are putting together Victoria’s show.”

“I’m not!”

Nathan’s shoulders dropped, and his brows came together. “So, that wasn’t you leaving the gallery after eight last night with a huge pile of folders. Speaking of–” He reached beside his leg and produced a black leather bag.

“Nathan–”

“Before you try to protest, this is property of Manning Gallery.”

“Well, thank you for the bag, but I really don’t have time to meet with this artist.”

“You do.”

“No, I–”

Before I had a chance to finish my sentence, Nathan leaned forward and muttered to the driver. I assumed he told him to drive since he turned his blinker on to pull into traffic.

“Nathan! This is kidnapping!”

“I think in a kidnapping situation, if you told the driver to stop driving, they wouldn’t. If you want him to stop, just tell him.”

When I said nothing, Nathan smiled smugly and repositioned himself before looking down at his phone.

Fuck.

Part of me was worried this would be a repeat of the last time we went somewhere together, while another part… well, another part kind of hoped so.