Page 12 of Ice To Meet You

I almost choked on the sip of wine I’d taken. “Sorry?”

“Oh, you might be,” Maria murmured.

Gio widened his eyes at his wife before returning to me with his professional smile fully in place. “I want you to take him under your wing.”

A prickle ran over the back of my neck, like fingertips dancing across my nape.

“He’s a lovely young man, but if he’s ever going to take on my business, he needs to settle down and actually learn something about art. About the cut and thrust. The hustle.”

I ran my fingers along the stem of my wineglass. Hustle be damned. “What do you mean ‘take under my wing?’”

“I want you to teach him about the business side of things. Show him how to talk to clients, how to appreciate quality art, and discern it from the second rate.”

I narrowed my eyes a touch. Gio was one of the most respected art dealers in Europe. Why couldn’theteach his grandson those things? I opened my mouth, ready to ask him exactly that question. But before I could speak, Gio shrugged.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but Matteo won’t listen to me. He only ever does the opposite of what I expect. He’s intent on spending his time skiing and travelling with his friends. He won’t settle down to anything.”

“That’s not strictly true,” Maria said.

Gio quirked his eyebrows. “Anythinguseful. Matteo is young and impetuous. Has some crazy ideas. Unfortunately, he’s charming. Never had to work hard for anything. He spends most of his time jumping out of planes or climbing mountains.”

I swallowed. Neither of those sounded like fun.

“I want him to have a proper job before even thinking about taking on the family business. I’m sure you understand.”

I chewed on my bottom lip, studying Gio’s face. He seemed serious. “How old is he?” I asked, picturing him as barely out of his teens. A wayward adult-in-training.

“In spirit or reality?” chuckled Maria.

Gio dabbed at his lips with his napkin before laying it next to his bowl. “I’ll be candid. If you can take Matteo on in Paris for six months, I’ll invest in your new gallery.

You don’t need to worry. He’ll have an apartment. You won’t even have to see him outside business hours. But with your passion and talent, I hope you can spark his interest in the art world. It’s what I do. It’s what our family hasalwaysdone.” He smiled at me, his eyes sparkling in the light. “It would mean a lot to me. To us.”

I turned the idea around in my head. How bad could Gio’s request be? My current assistants bickered like cats and dogs. I had a lot on my plate with Luc’s next exhibition, not to mention my plans for Rome. Another pair of hands couldn’t hurt.

So, he was young and a little green. If he could take instruction and hang a painting correctly, we’d get along.

And what choice did I really have? I wanted Gio’s seal of approval in Rome. I needed his investment. And he was only asking for six months. What would be the harm in having their grandson working in my gallery for that short amount of time?

I gripped my napkin, hoping neither Gio nor Maria could hear my raging heartbeat. “Okay,” I said. “It’s a deal.”

A huge grin spread over Gio’s face, and he stood to shake my hand. “Wonderful. Thank you. I’ll have my lawyer contact yours. The draft of your contract may need a few tweaks.”

Tweaks, freaks or creaks; I didn’t care. I’d secured my investment without tapping Luc or my father for money.

Maria stood too, opening her arms and pulling me into her crepey chest for an embrace. It was like being locked in a room with a thousand bottles of perfume. Mid-hug, she brought her lips to my ear. “I apologise in advance, dear. You may have your work cut out.”

At her words, I clamped my teeth together. Were those alarm bells I could hear? I let out a slow breath. It was too late to turn back. For better or worse, I’d agreed to show Matteo Romano the ropes of the art business.

Why, then, couldn’t I shake the feeling that this decision was the start of something I’d come to regret?

5

MATTEO

The streets of Paris bustled around me. People were busy getting on with their days—sharing coffee with friends, rushing to meetings, shopping. Me? I was about to throw myself into the lion’s den.

My Grandfather’s voice echoed around my skull.

---