True Art

Chapter Eight

MATTHEW'S POV

The rest of the day was a whirlwind. After our lunch, we headed across the city to a small office in a converted Georgian building. It was beautiful and glamorous and exactly as I'd expected Remi's office to look. I met a lady called Simone, who was his PA, and as soon as Remi entered the room, she was listing off flight dates and times as well as asking for signatures on dockets and shoving a mountain of invites into his hands. After spending an hour there, we'd sped off to the auction house, and it had been more fun than I'd ever imagined.

Before it started, Remi led me to the items he was hoping to get. He was buying five items for three different clients, none of them based in Ireland. And there was one other item he was bidding on for himself.

I had stared at the large writing desk and grinned. "I like it. It’s amazing."

"It's a Victorian writing table, and my grandfather used to have one just like it. He kept his old watch in the drawer, and I used to play with it as a child. It would look great in the hall of my cottage. Let's hope our bid wins."

When the auction had started, the fervour and competitiveness had been unexpected. It was like a civilised battle; numbered paddles being thrust into the air like swords. My head spun at the speed and the rising numbers, the sort of money that would keep me in food and rent for a year. It seemed crazy, but I was addicted. The excitement when Remi won the first lot we'd bid on was incredible.

"You bid on the next one, Matthew. Lot twenty-two. You can go to a maximum of four thousand euros, no more."

I’d nodded, and my stomach flipped with nerves and adrenaline. Once I lifted that paddle, there was no stopping me, and before I knew it, I'd secured the large painting of cows grazing in a field.

"Oh my god, I loved that so much! I want to do it again!"

Remi had leaned over, his face close to mine, and whispered, "Good. You have another three items to go."

It was six p.m. by the time we left, and I was tired but happy.

"You did really great. You’re a natural. If painting doesn’t work out, you have a future in this.” Remi winked at me and then looked a little nervous as he continued. “I think I'll grab dinner before heading home. Care to join me?"

Before I could answer, I felt his hand land gently on my back, and he steered me along the path. Maybe I was delusional, but I could have sworn he looked at me with heat in his eyes. God, I wanted it to be true. I wanted him to want me.

We walked through the evening throng, as the city came alive with a different energy. Remi led me to a restaurant called Chez Maximus. I'd heard of it but had never been inside. To be honest, I couldn't afford a glass of tap water there, let alone a meal. A moment of panic flashed through me as I realized I didn't have any money to pay for this. Shit.

"This is my treat, to say thank you for your help this afternoon."

I was about to argue when I noticed the glint in his eye, and I understood. He knew I couldn't afford it. Who was I kidding? Remi was an intelligent, experienced man. And I was a penniless, homeless artist. I’d never fool him. He knew I had nothing, and he was probably just taking pity on me. A man like that would never want someone like me.

Chez Maximus was the embodiment of old school glamour and Remi looked so at home there. Red suede booths in crescent shapes bordered the dark walls, and small lamps glowed between them. Heavy brocade curtains covered the windows, and the waiters were dressed better than I was. I looked down at my plain denim shirt and wondered if I was going to be let in.