stalked her in the night? Could he feel the way her frustrated desire for him radiated off her skin like steam? Did he know that the thought of him was a relentless ache inside her, never giving her a moment’s peace?
Did he know that she reread his letters all the time and kept them in a treasure box that held no other treasures?
“I never lie,” she lied.
He hit her again with that lopsided smile, but this time there was something hard about it, almost cynical. Her belly responded by tightening into sickening knots.
“That’s what I thought.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shrugged. “So don’t worry. I’ll never mention it again.”
The promise did nothing to improve her mood. “You won’t?”
“Absolutely not. So are you interested?”
Having run through all her lies and accusations, she had precious few weapons left, so she tried bravado. “You couldn’t afford me.”
His eyes agleam with quiet satisfaction, he reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a folded check, which he held between his first two fingers the way he might hold a tip for a bellman.
Arrogant jackass.
Irritated beyond words, she snatched it away and—
Oh, my God.
She stared down at the check, stalling for time and making sure she hadn’t miscounted the number of zeroes.
She hadn’t.
How the hell was she supposed to walk away from this kind of a deal? she wondered with growing desperation.
She was a successful artist, true, but right here, in her hot little hands, she was holding more money—and opportunities—than she’d made on her last three commissions combined. Here she’d thought travel was her heart’s desire. Hah. It turned out that she was, at the core, a ruthlessly ambitious artist who couldn’t turn her back on the almighty dollar, the same as every other person in the universe. Besides, with this kind of money, she could buy her own small island in the Caribbean and spend winters there.
Even so, she didn’t have to make it easy for him.
“Tony, I—”
He checked his watch, as though he was tired of her wasting his time and wanted to wrap up this whole annoying negotiation so he could get to the important part of his day.
“I’ll give you the other half when you’ve finished both murals.”
Dumbstruck, she stammered like an idiot. “The—the other half? ”
“I assume that’s okay?” he asked mildly.
Was it hot in here all of the sudden? Why did it feel like there was a tightening noose around her neck? What the hell had her greed led her into?
Increasing desperation made her fling out the only remaining excuse she could find. “Maybe your cousins don’t think I’m the right artist for the lobby mural.”
“Good point.” Twisting at the waist, Tony looked to Marcus and Cooper, both of whom were bent over one of her paintings, murmuring and pointing. “So what do we think?” Tony called.
Marcus backed up a step, cocking his head to look at the painting from another angle. “She’s got potential, but the work is still immature.”
Ouch.
“So we don’t want her for the lobby mural?” Tony asked.
Marcus moved closer to the painting again, squinting at her brushstrokes. “I didn’t say that. In a couple of years, I expect she’ll be getting six figures a pop. I’m seeing flashes of brilliance here.”
Talia stilled, her queasiness fading as her insides launched into a happy dance. Brilliance? Did he say brilliance?
“I’m assuming she’s qualified for a project this size…?” Marcus continued.
Tony shot her a questioning glance. “Are you qualified?”
Was she qualified? Screw him! “I have an MFA from Columbia.”
“She’s qualified,” Tony informed them. “Coop?”
Cooper stood a couple of paintings down from his brother, studying a canvas so hard she was tempted to offer him a magnifying glass. He waved a hand. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“I think that’s everything,” Tony said. “Do we have a deal?”
No. No, they did not have
Did he know that she reread his letters all the time and kept them in a treasure box that held no other treasures?
“I never lie,” she lied.
He hit her again with that lopsided smile, but this time there was something hard about it, almost cynical. Her belly responded by tightening into sickening knots.
“That’s what I thought.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shrugged. “So don’t worry. I’ll never mention it again.”
The promise did nothing to improve her mood. “You won’t?”
“Absolutely not. So are you interested?”
Having run through all her lies and accusations, she had precious few weapons left, so she tried bravado. “You couldn’t afford me.”
His eyes agleam with quiet satisfaction, he reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a folded check, which he held between his first two fingers the way he might hold a tip for a bellman.
Arrogant jackass.
Irritated beyond words, she snatched it away and—
Oh, my God.
She stared down at the check, stalling for time and making sure she hadn’t miscounted the number of zeroes.
She hadn’t.
How the hell was she supposed to walk away from this kind of a deal? she wondered with growing desperation.
She was a successful artist, true, but right here, in her hot little hands, she was holding more money—and opportunities—than she’d made on her last three commissions combined. Here she’d thought travel was her heart’s desire. Hah. It turned out that she was, at the core, a ruthlessly ambitious artist who couldn’t turn her back on the almighty dollar, the same as every other person in the universe. Besides, with this kind of money, she could buy her own small island in the Caribbean and spend winters there.
Even so, she didn’t have to make it easy for him.
“Tony, I—”
He checked his watch, as though he was tired of her wasting his time and wanted to wrap up this whole annoying negotiation so he could get to the important part of his day.
“I’ll give you the other half when you’ve finished both murals.”
Dumbstruck, she stammered like an idiot. “The—the other half? ”
“I assume that’s okay?” he asked mildly.
Was it hot in here all of the sudden? Why did it feel like there was a tightening noose around her neck? What the hell had her greed led her into?
Increasing desperation made her fling out the only remaining excuse she could find. “Maybe your cousins don’t think I’m the right artist for the lobby mural.”
“Good point.” Twisting at the waist, Tony looked to Marcus and Cooper, both of whom were bent over one of her paintings, murmuring and pointing. “So what do we think?” Tony called.
Marcus backed up a step, cocking his head to look at the painting from another angle. “She’s got potential, but the work is still immature.”
Ouch.
“So we don’t want her for the lobby mural?” Tony asked.
Marcus moved closer to the painting again, squinting at her brushstrokes. “I didn’t say that. In a couple of years, I expect she’ll be getting six figures a pop. I’m seeing flashes of brilliance here.”
Talia stilled, her queasiness fading as her insides launched into a happy dance. Brilliance? Did he say brilliance?
“I’m assuming she’s qualified for a project this size…?” Marcus continued.
Tony shot her a questioning glance. “Are you qualified?”
Was she qualified? Screw him! “I have an MFA from Columbia.”
“She’s qualified,” Tony informed them. “Coop?”
Cooper stood a couple of paintings down from his brother, studying a canvas so hard she was tempted to offer him a magnifying glass. He waved a hand. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“I think that’s everything,” Tony said. “Do we have a deal?”
No. No, they did not have
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