I am very much looking forward to it.’
‘Well, don’t get too excited,’ Anton sighed. ‘Millie has no end of paint-splattered shorts and T-shirts, but not much else.’
‘I see you have only one of Millie’s paintings in the window—while other artists there have two.’
‘The other artists have sold.’ Anton held his palms up to the air in a helpless gesture. ‘Actually, Millie, darling…’He gave a little wince. ‘I’m not going to take you out of the gallery, but space is at a premium, and with this new exhibition I’m going to have to move—’
‘You have more of Millie’s work?’ Levander interrupted. ‘I would like to see it if I may.’
‘Of course.’ Anton gave Millie a wide-eyed look as he gestured him to the back of the gallery, to the tiny piece of wall that—for now at least—displayed her work.
‘Your price is too low…’ Levander ran a quick eye through Millie’s bio and gave a shake of his head. ‘And you come across too needy—too grateful that anyone should even stop to look at your work, let alone buy it. You need to raise your price.’
‘It was higher,’ Millie answered, ‘and I still didn’t sell.’
‘This is an exclusive gallery—yes?’ Levander waited for Anton’s hesitant nod. ‘People do not want rubbish on their walls—and at this price that is what they think they are buying.’
‘She’s an unknown.’ Anton’s bubbly demeanour dimmed a touch as his judgement was challenged, but Levander held firm.
‘Today she is unknown.’ He turned to Millie. ‘Change it before you leave. Rewrite your bio…’ He turned the page. ‘Each painting is now the cost of your air ticket—the price you paid to share your talent.’
‘It won’t work…’
‘So you have lost nothing. And she should have at least two in the window…’
‘Levander…’ Anton was blushing, flirting, and trying to be assertive all at the same time. ‘Millie’s already had three months on display in the window. I simply cannot—’
‘When is this exhibition you mentioned?’ Levander interrupted. ‘I remember my stepmother saying she wanted another nice piece for the boutique. Perhaps I should suggest that she comes for a look?’
‘I already sent an invite,’ Anton said dubiously, ‘and as usual it was politely declined.’
‘Nina wouldn’t have even seen it,’ Levander said dismissively. ‘It would have been her assistant who declined on her behalf. If I tell her about it myself, I can assure you she will come—and possibly my father, too. Though I am not sure if I will be available.’
Anton was right—clearly Millie hadn’t a clue. Because at just the hint that they were coming to the preview Anton was a gibbering wreck, promptly dispatching her to choose another piece to go in the window before a “bored now” Levander took her by the hand and led her outside.
‘You—You didn’t have to do that…’ Millie stammered, once they were out on the street.
‘No one has to do anything.’ Levander shrugged. ‘Your work deserves its chance.’
‘Thank you.’ Millie shook her head to clear it. ‘Your stepmother will go to the exhibition?’ she checked. ‘I mean, if she’s already declined…I’d hate for Anton to be disappointed—especially if he’s giving me so much of a prime position. He’s already been more than generous…’
‘She will be there,’ Anton said assuredly. ‘She will not want to go, of course. But when I tell her she is expected—that I have accepted on her behalf—she will have no choice but to go.’
‘Sorry?’
‘It would appear rude to not turn up—and in my family appearance is everything.’
‘Well, thank you…’ Millie said. ‘You’ve no idea how much it means.’
‘I have a very good idea what it means,’ Levander corrected her. ‘I know how important that first sale is—and, yes, I could have bought your painting—given you the red dot on your work for the world to see—but that would be cheating, yes?’
On so many levels, Millie realised, staring up at him. His skin was white in the street light, contrasting with the hollow shadows of his cheeks, his eyes two dark, unreadable pools.
‘It will sell—some things that are truly beautiful don’t always catch the eye first time around.’ Levander’s voice was a caress. ‘Sometimes you need to actually stop and take another look.’
He was certainly taking a good look now. His gaze was so intense, his face so close she could feel the heat of his breath on her face. She thought for a blissful second that he was going to kiss her, but instead it was his rich deep voice that bathed her senses, his eyes quizzical as they assessed her. ‘So, you leave tomorrow?’
‘In the morning.’
‘And have you enjoyed your time in Melbourne?’
‘I haven’t really seen anything of it.’ She gave a tiny shrug. ‘I’ve been to a few galleries, a couple of shows—but mainly I’ve been working…’ Her voice trailed off, her simple answer somehow giving him an opening she’d never intended. Millie’s breath caught in her throat as Levander took it.
‘Then we’d better get started. Come…’ He pointed to where a pony and trap was pulling in across the deserted street, tourists climbing down, the weary trap rider about to dismantle and head off home. He shook his head when Levander called for him to wait.
‘Sorry, mate. That was the last ride for the night—back again tomorrow.’
‘I will talk with him.’ Levander turned to go, but she shook her head.
‘It doesn’t matter. It’s late…’ Millie attempted, struggling in quicksand as she stared into his eyes. ‘And I’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow…’
‘Plenty of time to sleep on the plane, then.’
But a blip of sensibility was invading now. She was playing with fire here, and her assessment was based on not just what she had read—Anton himself had warned her, and Levander’s own dining companion hadn’t exactly given him a glowing reference.
‘You’re a cold bastard.’
The pain in her voice had been real, the emotion that had choked out those words hadn’t been manufactured—and Levander’s response had done little to dispute the accusation.
What the hell was she doing?
It would be madness to go with this man.
‘Really…’ Millie swallowed hard. ‘It’s probably not such a good idea. I’ve got so much to do, and you—well you…’
‘Don’t worry about me.’
‘You just broke up with
