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This incredible insight from an assistant? She was absolutely right. She had read its true meaning. While Fernsby, on purpose, because he’d wanted to gauge their reactions, had expressed the opposite view.
She was like Clay. He wasn’t an artist, but he lived in the art world, and he understood both artists and their work. Though she might be an assistant, this young woman knew the artistic temperament.
Fernsby gladly admitted his error. “Sometimes you believe art says one thing. But when you look closely, you find it says exactly the opposite. Thank you for pointing this out to me, young lady.”
She smiled, a radiant smile, which she then turned on Clay.
Shooting stars exploded between them. They’d spent the night together. Fernsby was absolutely sure. Because Clay Harrington had never looked at a woman like that.
This young woman was real. She had depth.
She was perfect for him.
Saskia met Adrian for lunch on Saturday at a trendy restaurant on Market Street, elegant with white tablecloths, crystal wineglasses, and busboys carrying little scrapers to scoop away breadcrumbs. The tables were separated by planters, giving the patrons a sense of privacy.
Adrian had chosen a window table, because she enjoyed watching the passersby. “This place is owned by Ransom Yates.”
Saskia gave her a gentle, “Mmm,” not terribly interested in who owned the restaurant.
Adrian raised one eyebrow. “Ransom Yates is now dating Ava Harrington.” She paused, waiting for Saskia’s reaction.
Saskia didn’t feel like giving one. She studied the menu instead.
“She’s Clay Harrington’s older sister.” Adrian sat back, giving Saskia a self-satisfied smile.
“Are you trying to worm information out of me about what I’ve been doing with Clay over the last couple of days?”
Adrian gave a dramatic eye roll. “I can’t believe I actually have to drag the details out of you.” She ended on a note of exasperation.
Adrian had waited two days before she’d forced a meeting with Saskia—which for Adrian was being quite patient. Normally, she’d have called right after that first meeting. Saskia had let things slide because the commission was with Clay. And because she’d slept with him.
It wasn’t just one night. It wasn’t just two nights. She had no intention of stopping. Still scrutinizing the menu, she admitted, “I slept with him again. In fact, I’ve been at his place every night.”
Adrian clapped once, not enough to draw attention. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away from him. Out of his bed, I mean.” A gleeful sparkle lit her eyes.
Saskia set down her menu, leaned her elbows on the table, laced her fingers, and rested her chin on them as she looked at her friend. “Here’s the problem.”
Adrian choked out a laugh. “How can there be a problem when you’re sleeping with a disgustingly sexy billionaire who wants to give you a commission where you command the price?”
Saskia pursed her lips.
Adrian rushed on, “Don’t tell me it’s because he’s Clay Harrington.”
“I’m over that problem,” Saskia said. “Now I feel bad that I’m not being truthful with him.”
Adrian stared at her long enough for their waiter to step up to the table. Dressed in a white shirt and black pants, he was far above casual. All he needed was a tie and a suit jacket and he could have been in a boardroom. “What can I get you ladies? We have an amazing peach mimosa.”
Adrian jumped on the offer immediately. “We’ll both have one.”
“Could we also have water, please?” Saskia added.
“Of course,” the waiter said effusively.
Before he could leave to get their drinks, Adrian said, “We’re ready to order as well.” She raised an eyebrow at Saskia, who simply nodded. “I’ll have the sand dabs.”
“Excellent choice.” He scribbled on his pad and turned to Saskia.
Still undecided, she said the first thing that popped into her mind. “Shrimp Louis, please.”