Page 58 of For the Love of Art

“I’m Isla, by the way– Nathan’s curator. These are incredible, as is your home.”

Han looked around and hummed.

“I can’t take all the credit. My husband works on Wall Street, allowing me to live like a King while chasing my dreams.” He gestured to his modern grey couch. “Please, take a seat.”

We all found a seat. Han leaned back, running his arm along the back of the couch. He looked calm and relaxed. On the other hand, I felt electrified because not only was Nathan sitting next to me, but his leg gently rested against mine.

“So, you want to talk about displaying my art,” Han said matter-of-factly.

“Very much so,” Nathan agreed.

“It’s not so much displaying your art as it is working together,” I chimed in.

Han narrowed his eyes. “Yes, you’d take a commission.”

“Yes, but we have a very competitive rate. Most galleries would take sixty or sixty-five percent of your sales, maybe more. I’m willing to sit at fifty,” Nathan explained, smoothly.

“I can post my work on the internet for free. I don’t pay any commission.”

“We give you access to clients who will pay more for your work.”

“But I still have to pay you.”

“Look, keep your online store, but open yourself up to a new opportunity. I’m talking New York elite seeing your work. I could make you a lot more money.”

“I think you mean I could make you a lot more money.”

Han had Nathan there.

Nathan wet his lips. It was clear this conversation wasn’t going how he wanted it to.

“Forty percent commission!”

Han and Nathan looked at me, the latter looking both stunned and angry.

Shit.

Han seemed to mull that number over, his expression pensive.

“Forty?”

“Yeah,” Nathan said through gritted teeth. “Forty?”

I overstepped. I could feel how tense Nathan was.

“Still a little high,” Han finally said, “but I’ll consider it.”

We all shook hands before Han escorted us out of his apartment.

“Nathan,” I said to his back as we walked back down the stairs.

No response.

“Nathan!”

Nothing as we walked out of the building, the door closing in my face. I pushed it open, continuing my pursuit with determination.

“Please talk to me!”