Page 8 of Devoured By Peace

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“More of your brother’s leftover paint?” I asked, pointing at the salmon-pink wall.

“Uh-huh. It’s all the rage. His rich clients are going nuts over brightly colored walls.”

“It’s great,” I said. “I’m a big fan of color.”

They led me into the kitchen, which was freshly painted in red.

“Oh my. I don’t remember seeing this room. I haven’t even seen the bathroom, for that matter.”

“We’ll show you that in a minute,” Clint said. I sensed he was the designer.

“It will have to be instant for now. But that espresso machine will happen.” Ethan nodded with confidence.

As Clint switched on the kettle, I asked, “Do we know who the landlord is?”

Ethan shook his head. “No idea. Florian just plucked us out of college and gave it to us.”

“Plucked you?”

“He met us at our graduation exhibition, and we got to talking. Florian mentioned how he’d procured a space and was looking for some young artists to run it. We jumped at the opportunity.” Ethan passed me a cup of coffee. “We don’t have milk.”

“That’s okay.” I took the cup. “Thanks.”

“How do you figure in all of this? Since you’re technically our boss.” Ethan studied me.

“Good question.” I leaned against the wall. “Florian wants me to scout new artists to exhibit.”

“Cool. And this auction idea?” Clint asked.

“I’ve been put in charge of selling six de Koonings among other twentieth-century pieces.”

“Holy shit. You don’t say. Wow, that’s shooting high,” Ethan said.

“It is. I have to plan this properly. We can’t invite that kind of money here without at least something to offer.”

“Hello, de Koonings,” Ethan said.

I smiled. “Sure. But art buyers with that kind of money expect top-shelf champagne at least.”

“Yes, but this is contemporary art, Miranda. I think it’s time it came back to its roots. Don’t you?” Ethan asked. “An old warehouse in an old industrial alleyway is a fitting home for de Kooning’s works.”

Clint nodded.

“That’s an excellent point. But still, expensive champagne means they don’t mind bidding higher. Rich collectors can be a competitive group. It’s all part of the game of selling,” I said.

Excitement sparked through me. All of a sudden, everything seemed possible.


Tags: J.J. Sorel Billionaire Romance