“I have to get ready for work soon,” she said, to break the silence, and beg for some feedback. Any feedback! Anything!
Sabato flicked her a gaze of irritation and then placed the canvases back in place. “You no longer work at the hotel.”
Emily’s heart dropped as all her fears began to crystallize in front o
f her eyes. “Excuse me?”
He was careful not to express his anger, but it was there. A tidal wave of fury that someone so talented had been forced by life circumstances to squeeze their art into the gaps of a busy and unfulfilling schedule.
“I want to show you something.”
“No,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. “No, no, no. What gave you the right to make that kind of unilateral decision about me and my life?”
He held a hand up in a gesture of command. “Nothing I have done cannot be undone. Stop shouting and look at this.”
He pulled his phone from his top pocket and opened up the photographs. The first picture he showed her was a large, open-plan room with views of the Thames framed by enormous windows. “What is it?” She sighed, already suspecting where he was going.
“An artist’s studio.”
The surprise was palpable. “An artist’s … studio?”
He made a growling sound of agreement, and then swiped to the next photograph, a bedroom. Then, another. A large kitchen, and so on and so on. When he’d finished, Emily was numb. “I told you last night, I am not going to be… kept by you.”
The proud jut of her chin made his heart twist. “I’m offering you a job.”
Her eyes flared wide, and her indignation made him laugh. “Not that job, though it certainly has merits.” Her innocence was beautiful. He lifted the contract from his pocket and handed it to her. Emily was so shocked that she took it.
Montepulciano Artist in Residence Programme was written at the top. She read the cover page and then lifted her eyes to his in confusion. “What is this, Sabato?”
“Cara, you are an artist of incredible talent and potential.”
“You’re just saying that because you feel bad for me.”
His eyes glittered in his face. “Do you truly think that is something I would do? I am a business man, first and foremost.”
She arched her brow, silently disputing the assertion. To her, he was a lover, first and foremost. And nothing else besides.
His smile showed he understood. “I want you to do only your art. You have a gift, and it is selfish to withhold it from the world.”
She blinked away the confusion that was writhing through her. “That’s the second time you’ve called me selfish.”
“Read the contract, Emily.” He nodded towards it. “Everything is in black and white. You will have to meet certain obligations, and in exchange, you will receive a salary, and accommodation.”
She scanned the document silently. Obligations? Her eyes landed on the relevant paragraph and she read it several times. “It says I’m to produce a minimum of two pieces a month. And that you will commission me to do three specific works of art in a twelve month period.”
“Si,” he agreed with a business like nod. He pulled a pen from his pocket and handed it to her.
“And that’s all?”
“You will find there is nothing unusual about this arrangement. Many artists are in receipt of support from a benefactor.”
“But it’s just because we slept together!” She cried, marvelling at the cruelty of having her dreams in sight, knowing she had to turn away from them.
“No.” He gripped her shoulders and stared into her eyes. “That is entirely separate to this.”
Emily made a sound of disbelief. “How can it possibly be? No, Sabato. I’m not going to just fall in with your plans.”
“These are your plans. Your dreams.”