Page 106 of Ice To Meet You

“I think a little less obvious would be better,” she said. “You don’t want to frighten the customers.”

I tucked myself in as best I could, my dick screaming for attention. “Heaven forbid,” I said. “Though my current state might fit in with the gallery’s name.”

With a smile, Esmé headed off across the floor with me close behind. Her skirt rustled as she walked.

We stepped into the bright light of the gallery front. Esmé stopped short, her mouth gaping. “Oh, my goodness!”

A woman with cascading red curls stood at the door. She held a battered backpack in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Her summer dress was faded, and her dusty hiking boots at odds with the elegance of the gallery.

Esmé rushed to her, arms outstretched. The woman’s eyes widened before she dropped her backpack with a heavy thud.

Hoping she wouldn’t do the same with the wine, I stepped in, plucking it from her grasp. She barely seemed to notice, her eyes glowing before she shut them and hugged Esmé tight.

I watched, trying to place her. She looked like she’d just emerged from a cross-country trek, yet Esmé clung to her like a long-lost sister.

After a round of breathless giggling, the two finally pulled apart. Esmé turned to me, grinning. “This is Chloe!”

Like that helped me.

"You know, Iris’s friend Chloe—the one she worked with at Luc’s before they got together."

Her eyes glowed as she tucked her arm through her friend’s. My heart sank. There’d be no pleasure at the gallery today.

“Chloe,” she said, as if I was a toddler or needed a hearing aid. “Fun Chloe.”

A vague recollection of a group call nudged my memory. Esmé had sat up late into the night on Zoom, chatting and laughing with Iris and another woman. I’d spent the evening crashed out on the couch with Claudette purring in my lap. Life as a gigolo could be exhausting.

“The traveller?” I asked, stepping forward, offering my free hand.

“Yes. She’s come back specially for the gallery opening.” She ran her hands over her friend’s dress. “But I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

“I wasn’t expecting you at all,” I said.

Esmé winced. “Oh,merde. I’m sorry. Chloe, this is Matteo. He’s my?—”

“Personal sex slave and all-round gallery assistant,” I said with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Chloe’s face cracked into a grin. “Oh.ThatMatteo.”

Had they talked about me?

She shook my hand. “Well, I’m glad somebody owns one. I’ve barely stayed in one place long enough to have a personal sex slave. Do you have any friends in the same line of work?”

Esmé flashed me a look, almost begging me not to mention Antonio.

“How was your latest trip?” she asked, leading Chloe to one of the beautifully upholstered antique chairs she’d bought. “It must be weird being back in Europe.”

Chloe slumped into it, fanning her face with her hand. “Are you kidding? Rome is more hectic than India, and they have far more people. I was hoping for a little quiet.”

“But you have had fun, though?”

Chloe grinned. “It’s been amazing. But it’s time for a break.”

“No more travelling?” Esmé asked.

“I haven’t decided,” she said. “But as Iris reminds me religiously, I can’t hold off growing up forever. She and Luc tell me I need to settle down—that I’m not getting any younger.”

I opened my mouth, about to suggest Chloe consider going with Luc’s grandmother to the spa for a facelift. Esmé’s eyes met mine, though, and she gave a tiny shake of her head. They held a glow of mischief, as if she knew what I’d say.

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