my mind. This was never my idea in the first place. The first thing I knew about it was when you told me last night. My sister made the arrangements, not me.’
‘I have a signed contract,’ Toni replied, crossing her arms to match his, her eyebrows high.
‘I can cancel it and you can keep your fee. Go home with my blessing.’
‘Just like that?’ she gasped.
‘Just like that. You will have your fee in the bank today. I’m sorry for wasting your time. Do we have a deal, Miss Baldoni?’
He held out his hand and she took it. And held it and kept on holding it until he looked down and frowned and tried to pull it away.
‘What are you doing?’
‘My job. Part of creating a portrait is making a connection with the sitter so you can capture something unique about them. I always start with the hands. Or, in your case, one hand. I like hands and yours is spectacular.’
She gave a quick nod. ‘You like being outdoors and working for a living in hard environments. Alaska makes sense now. Yes. I can do something with that. And it explains why you’re so grumpy here in the office.’
‘I am not grumpy,’ he said and pulled his hand back. ‘Did you hear what I said? You’re going to have your fee. So feel free to go and do one of those jobs that you passed over to come here.’
‘Grumpy. Here is how it works. I sign a contract and I deliver the goods. No arguments, no discussion; that is what’s going to happen.’
He glared at her and did the eyebrow thing again. ‘Are you always so stubborn?’
‘Frequently. Especially with uncooperative subjects like you. So you may as well get used to the idea, because I am painting you. Even if I have to do it from memory and press clippings. That’s the way it works.’
She stepped back and made a square with the thumb and forefingers of both hands. ‘Oh. Would you mind doing that look again? Scowl a little more to one side. That’s super. I was looking for a scary image for Halloween.’
‘Double the fee if you leave now.’
That stopped her and she clasped hold of one of the boardroom’s carved wooden chairs.
‘What? No. I gave Freya my word that I would do the very best work that I could. Promises mean something in my family. If I give my word that I will do something I will do it. End of story.’
‘Is it? Let me guess. I know a few things about families too. Something tells me that you’re desperate to prove to your father, the famous portrait painter, that you’re his equal.’
He leant back against the wooden panels with a smug expression on his face. ‘Am I right?’
* * *
The words hit Toni like a slap across the face and she reeled back in a reflex action which had her gasping for breath.
Suddenly it all became too much. Lack of sleep, the sadness of waving Amy goodbye as she drove away in a taxi, and then the harshness of this man all combined together in one mighty wave which washed over her, leaving her exhausted.
Toni whirled around sideways to look at the portrait that her father had painted. There was no way that she was going to let Scott see how close she was to bursting into tears.
It was several minutes before she was ready to reply in a hoarse whisper. ‘Whose family are we talking about? Yours or mine? Because I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr Elstrom, but this time you’re wrong. My father passed away several years ago. The only person I have to prove anything to is myself.’
There was a sharp intake of breath followed by a long slow sigh. ‘My apologies. I didn’t know.’
Toni replied with a sharp nod. ‘There is no reason why you should know. But, you see, I really am the last of the Baldoni artists and your father wants a Baldoni hanging on this wall. Which means. Me.’
Toni half turned from the waist and risked glancing at Scott, who was looking at her with something close to respect in his eyes.
She stood in silence for a moment and then her shoulders dropped. ‘Freya has already paid me half my fee for the portrait. I don’t want to give that money back.’ Then she shrugged. ‘In fact I have already spent it on something important—but that doesn’t matter.’
She lifted her chin but carried on in a softer voice. ‘What does matter is that I want to deliver this portrait. I can work on your likeness from photos and sketches. But it makes a big difference if I can get my client to sit down and be fairly still for a while. I can see that might be a problem. So tell me how we can work together to make this happen.’
Scott waved an arm around in a circle.
‘I cannot give you that time. Look around you, Miss Baldoni. I have just been made the head of a company which no longer exists. My father decided to close the business a month ago and make the few remaining staff redundant.’
His fingers clasped around the back rung of a chair.
‘It’s going to take me months to sort out the financial situation and come up with some sort of rescue package before this building is sold to developers. Apparently, they could make at least six luxury apartments out of this three-storey building.’
‘Apartments? Oh, no. That’s terrible. Are they allowed to do that? Seriously?’
‘Oh, yes. Specialist builders can prop up the creaky outside walls and make the structure safe and strong but it will mean gutting the inside and starting again. Two hundred years of history is about to be wiped away as if it never happened.’
‘I see. Well, that explains something I’d been wondering about,’ Toni replied in a low voice, almost mumbling to herself before she looked up into Scott’s face to find him looking quizzically at her.
‘From what Freya told me, your father has been working here most of his life and took over about twenty years ago—that must be from your uncle. Yes? But he didn’t have his portrait painted. Even though he is obviously very traditional. It makes sense now. This was going to be his last chance to be painted as the head of Elstrom Mapping before the company closed. He wanted the last portrait on the wall on the day the building was sold.’
She pushed her hands deep into her pockets. ‘That’s sad,’ she sniffed.
‘Sad but true. Because you’re right.’
He stepped in front of the portrait painted by Toni’s father and they stood side by side and stared up at the young, vibrant blond-haired man whose essence had been captured in oil paint on canvas.
‘My uncle Neil was the action businessman—the dynamic and charming star who was a natural athlete and medal-winning explorer. He excelled in public speaking, making presentations and was dazzling to the media. While my father...?’
Scott pushed his hands into his trouser pockets.
‘My father worked out as a boy that he was never going to compete with his older brother Neil. He preferred to stay in the background and let his
