Page 23 of Painted in Love

Adrian shot her with a finger pistol. “Bingo.”

Saskia pointed her finger and shot back. “I still want to meet this kid.”

After all the gunplay, Adrian turned serious. “Despite what happened between you and Clay, even despite his desire for you to meet Dylan, it’s a great opportunity. Think of it—an entire building.” She spread her arms. “You’ve never done anything like that. It’ll become part of the San Francisco landscape. You’re big already, but this could make you mega. Let’s talk seriously about how we’ll make it work.”

Saskia shrugged. “Like we always have. I go in as San Holo’s assistant, talk to Clay about what he wants, tell him the rules about anonymity.”

Adrian nodded. “I already told him, and he agreed to guard your anonymity.” She smiled. “Even from himself, for the time being.”

Saskia had to smile too. The Clay she’d slept with last night would never let it go at that. “After I get an idea of what he wants, I’ll give him the usual spiel, that San will keep in mind his general theme, but then the artist’s imagination and creativity will take over. What comes out is what Mr. Clay Harrington gets.”

Saskia had always vetted clients this way. Adrian was a good judge of character. Saskia was, too, especially with the way she’d grown up. Okay, Hugo had been the exception. Major screw-up there. But when she met clients, just as they judged her work, she was judging them. If she got a bad vibe, she didn’t take the commission. It hadn’t happened often, especially after the client had gone through Adrian first, but there’d been a few.

Honestly, she’d already vetted Clay last night. Now she just had to see exactly what he wanted San Holo to do. And make sure he understood that meeting San in person wouldn’t happen.

She slapped her hands on her thighs. “All right. Let’s do it. Set up a meeting.”

Before Saskia could even stand, Adrian picked up the phone and punched in numbers. “Let’s strike while the iron’s hot.” She chuckled. “No pun intended.”

Saskia would have laughed, but her stomach sank. Whether it was a good sinking or bad, she couldn’t be sure. She hadn’t thought to see him again, especially not so soon. Especially not in her assistant’s disguise. How would this go down?

She keyed in to Adrian’s half of the conversation. “I’m glad I reached you, Mr. Harrington… Yes, San has agreed to consider the commission. I’d like to set up a meeting… Sure, today would be great… That time sounds good. At your warehouse in the Mission.” After another pause, she added, “But you won’t be meeting with San Holo himself. He’ll send his assistant, Miss Oliver, as usual.” She shook her head at whatever she heard. “No. Absolutely not. The first meeting is always with Miss Oliver. I will remind you, San has not agreed to reveal his identity.” She paused again, then said, “Yes, that’s how we work. You tell Miss Oliver what you’re looking for, she’ll relay that information to San Holo, then he’ll decide whether or not to take on the project. Do you still want to go ahead with the meeting?” Adrian’s blue eyes sparkled brighter than the sun glittering on the bay. “Take it or leave it, Mr. Harrington. It’s your choice.” She winked at Saskia. “Good. You can expect Miss Oliver at two o’clock. Goodbye.”

Barely a moment later, Adrian jumped from her chair and did a happy dance around the room, punching the air. “Clay Harrington. Do you know what this means?”

Saskia couldn’t get out of the chair. She knew exactly what it meant. She would see him again. She would breathe in his spicy, seductive scent that made her crazy. She would remember every kiss, every touch, every lick, every taste.

Would he be angry when he saw her and throw her out?

Or would he want to do it all over again?

Because if he did, there was absolutely no way she could resist.

Adrian watched her best friend leave as if she had a fast-moving zombie on her heels. Were there any fast-moving zombies? Whatever. Saskia had raced out of Adrian’s office, probably wanting to dress up before she met Clay for the second time.

But wait, this was Saskia. Dressing up wasn’t in her vocabulary.

Adrian strode to the sideboard and pulled out a glass and a bottle, pouring a finger of whiskey. Best day ever. It deserved a celebratory drink. Crossing to the bank of windows, she gazed out at the bay, Alcatraz, the Golden Gate, and sipped. Moments later, she saw Saskia bounce out onto the sidewalk below.

Adrian had never seen her friend glow like that, as if she were lit from the inside. Even though this affair could end in utter disaster, Adrian had seen that spark. Not just a spark, but a blaze. It was time for Saskia to get over everything that had happened with her ass of a boyfriend. Hugo Lewis wasn’t worth it. Saskia needed to come out of isolation. Maybe she didn’t have to come out to her adoring fans as San Holo, but she needed to get out, to stop working only in the middle of the night like a vampire. As San Holo, she was always wrapped in that anonymity. It was time to move on.

Maybe it was time for them both to move on. Because Adrian hadn’t been doing much in the outgoing department either, unless it was work-related. Growing up, she’d had it far better than Saskia, with loving parents who supported her life choices, her Oxford education, her desire to get her law degree, even her move to the United States.

Everything had been different for Saskia. She came from a privileged background, just as Adrian had. Until she was sixteen, when all that privilege had been torn from her. When Adrian found her, Saskia had been as thin as a rail, staying with a bunch of artists in a barely livable garret. She’d loved Saskia’s artwork from the moment she’d bought that caricature. But she couldn’t walk away, afraid the waiflike Saskia was starving. She’d taken her to lunch that first day—and often after that—and extracted the whole sordid story. Her friend had been arrested for tagging, an American term that fit appropriately. It was in all the papers that her world-famous parents—both classical artists—had an unruly daughter, a street artist, no less. They couldn’t bear the stain on their good name. Not only that, at a very young age, those horrible people had told Saskia she was an accident, that they’d never wanted children. They’d expected her to be grateful that they’d let her be born. Like they owned her talent because they hadn’t aborted her.

They told her to mend her ways, give up her street art. Or get out.

Saskia had taken to the streets rather than turn her talent over to them and lose herself to satisfy their demands. Adrian had done what she could for her friend, with lunches and dinners Saskia couldn’t afford. She found Saskia a few patrons. It had never been enough to get her friend out of that dingy garret. She’d even offered to bring Saskia home, with her own room, but Saskia was proud. She wanted to make it on her own.

All these years later, she had. In such an incredible way.

Even before San Holo had come into existence, she’d made it. Her art was already becoming huge in England. But then Saskia met Hugo Lewis. Things might have been different if Adrian hadn’t taken her eye off the ball while she attended uni for her law degree. She could have warned Saskia, maybe even saved her. Hugo had not only stolen Saskia’s heart and innocence, he’d stolen her name, too, claiming her work as his own. That had finally broken Saskia. Just when she’d begun to regain her self-confidence after what her parents had taken from her, Hugo had stolen her belief in people all over again.

Back then, just as she did now with San Holo, Saskia had used a pseudonym. Lynx. No one had actually known who she was. Maybe part of that was fear of her parents finding out. She’d let Hugo act as her so-called manager, having him negotiate contracts, handling the money, the sales of her work. Hugo claimed it was so that Saskia could concentrate on her art. Adrian was sure he’d embezzled funds. Then bam, five years ago, without a single warning, he’d come out to the art world, saying that he was Lynx. At the time, Hugo’s name had been bigger than hers, but he was savvy enough to know she would soon surpass him.

Saskia had no proof that he was lying. She’d let him handle everything. She’d believed in him. Maybe that was even worse than loving him.

What Saskia had gone through still made Adrian cringe. Though by then she was a lawyer, there was nothing to be done. Now Adrian was scrupulous about documenting everything, copyrighting each work, trademarking the pseudonym, so that no one could ever steal anything from San Holo. It was because of what happened to Saskia that Adrian had become an agent. With her law degree, she could negotiate and write contracts that were in her clients’ best interests. So that no one, not even Adrian, could claim their work. She dealt with a lot of street artists, and most never used their own name.

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