Romance: The Art Of Love: A Billionaire Romance (4 page)

         
“I’m
so glad you could come,” Rene said. He was a tall man, older, with a deeply
tanned complexion and salt and pepper hair. His glasses had burgundy frames
almost exactly the color of the wine Clifford and Annette had shared the night
before.

         
“Of
course we came,” Clifford said. “Any time Max Ernst’s name is involved in a
collection, you know I’m going to want to see it.” He sounded bright and
chipper; Annette looked at him wonderingly. After the night they’d had and the
emotional roller coast of a conversation they’d had that morning, where did he
find the energy to be so upbeat?

         
“That
is what I hoped you would say. Now, the ephemera – there were some notes, an
appointment book – I have already promised to Sylvester
Romerio
.
You know him.”

         
Clifford
nodded. “He loves his paper.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We’ve talked about
this many times. I don’t care about the little doodles, the grocery list, that
sort of thing. But for him? It’s like gold.” He laughed. “Give me the
paintings, him the etcetera and everybody’s happy.”

         
“Well,
if I were to give them to you, I’m not sure I would be happy,” Rene joked.

         
“I’d
be happy enough for both of us,” Clifford replied.

         
“We’ll
have to give that a try,” Rene said, with mock-solemnity, “next time.”

         
Annette
was looking around the small office. It was a typical art dealer’s lair, with
piles of books and exhibition catalogs stacked high against the wall; Rene’s
desk was covered with papers. There was a large abstract sculpture standing in
one corner; from one angle, it could be seen as a woman with an umbrella; from
another, it looked like an explosion of triangles.

         
“Where
are the paintings?” she asked.

         
Rene’s
eyebrow went up. “No coffee first?”

         
Clifford
chuckled. “Annette is my martinet,” he said, slapping the palm of one hand with
the back of another. “Madison hired her to keep me on schedule.”

         
“Smart,”
Rene said, tapping the side of his temple. “In your world, time is money.”
 
He smiled and looked Annette up and down
slowly, taking in her figure. “But all work and no play makes us dull men.”

         
Annette
fought back the urge to shudder. She was grossed out by Rene’s attentions but
it wouldn’t do to show it. “Well,” she replied, “we’re just going to have to
take that chance.
 
You said you had a
Carrington?”

         
Rene
glanced at Clifford. Clifford gave a slight nod, and Rene began to speak. “It’s
an early one, a study really. You’ll be able to see what she was thinking about
the later portrait in it.”

         
“The
portrait of Max?”

         
Rene
nodded, warming to his subject. “The collection is a mix of things Ernst did,
as well as works he inspired. It’s a nice mix.”
 
He stood up and started to lead the way out of his office. “Of course,
the kids now don’t value these things. They want to get the place cleaned out
as quickly as possible. Turn it into condos.” He shook his head. “Montreal’s
always been an expensive city, but these speculators…they are making it ten
times worse.”

         
Clifford
nodded. “It is the price you pay for being so fashionable.”

         
Rene
laughed. “I will dress in overalls and a straw hat,” he said, “if it will keep
the prices down.” He had his keys in his hand. “Shall we take my car, or
yours?”

         
“You
know where we’re going, so why don’t you drive?” Clifford said. He asked
Annette, “Have you ever driven in Montreal before?”

         
She
shook her head. “No, it’s my first time here.”

         
“You
take your life in your hands,” he said. “If you’re not a native, forget it.”

         
“Ah,
I know all the short cuts,” Rene said. “I will keep us away from the traffic,
and you will be perfectly safe.”

         
They
rode from Rene’s office into Old Montreal, a portion of the city filled with
impressive stone houses built during the city’s earliest days.

         
“These
hills are crazy!” Annette said. She reached out to hold onto the door handle as
Rene angled the car up a steep slope.

         
“You
should come here in the wintertime,” Rene replied. “Especially going down the
hills – it can be quite exciting.”

         
“Maybe
we will do that,” Clifford said, looking at Annette with a smile. “It’s a
beautiful city to spend the holiday.”

         
Annette
smiled prettily. Inside her mind was racing. It was very strange to hear
Clifford speaking about the two of them as ‘we’; obviously Rene thought of them
as a client and his assistant, but that wasn’t how Annette took it at all- in
her ears, Clifford was speaking as if they were an official couple.

         
She
closed her eyes and shook her head a little bit. It was important that she was
clear headed and focused on the job at hand – assessing the paintings Clifford
was potentially interested in buying. He was counting on her to stop him from
making any bad purchases. She could worry about her love life later.

         
The
building they stopped in front of looked like a castle. It had an octagonal
tower built in one corner and tall windows that were covered with ornate iron
bars.

         
“They’re
going to turn this into condos?” Clifford said. “What a waste.”

         
“I
know,” Rene said. He shrugged his shoulders. “But you cannot find the families
who want a big home like this anymore. Too much upkeep. Too much expense.” He
parked carefully in front of the home. “I am sure if you make an offer, you can
save it from being desecrated.”

         
“Madison
would kill me,” Clifford replied. “It’s bad enough I collect the beautiful
paintings. If I start buying every beautiful building I see…” He shook his
head. “I don’t even want to think about what I’d hear.”

         
“Women,”
Rene said with a laugh. “They don’t understand what it is to have a good
time.”
 
He led the way up the narrow
walk, through a pair of heavy double doors. “Most of what we’re going to want
to look at is right here on the first floor.”

         
It
was obvious that they weren’t the first buyers to come into this property.
Annette could see spaces where furniture clearly had been; carpets were rolled
up and tagged, awaiting pickup.

         
They
went through one large room and then another, stepping up through an archway
into a long, dark hallway. “There are three pieces here that perhaps will be of
interest,” Rene suggested.

         
“The
lighting’s terrible,” Clifford said. “I don’t know that we’ll be able to see
anything.”

         
“Hold
on,” Rene replied. “There’s a switch.” He strode down the hallway, leaving
Annette and Clifford alone together.

         
“I
want to kiss you right now,” Clifford said. “So very much.”

         
“We
can’t do that!” Annette replied, scandalized. Rene could see both of them
easily, even if he couldn’t hear every word they were saying.

         
“Why
not?” Clifford reached his hand out, letting his fingertips brush against
Annette’s forearm, just above her wrist. “What’s going to happen?”

         
Annette
blushed.

         
“Don’t
you want me to kiss you?” Clifford asked.

         
“I
do,” she replied, letting her eyes flicker up to meet his own. “And if we were
alone…”

         
“I
would do more than kiss you,” Clifford proclaimed.

         
Rene
found the switch. The hallway brightened, revealing three nearly identical
prints. They were very colorful, with bright green and blue shapes intersected
by swooping khaki colored lines.

         
“Oh,
these are nice,” Annette said, stepping forward to take a closer look. She
wanted to see the signatures, of course, but she also needed to put some space
between herself and Clifford. The longer she stood close to him, feeling his
nearness, smelling the scent of his cologne in her nose, the harder it became
to maintain her focus.

         
Clifford
raised an eyebrow. “Tell me about them.”

         
Rene
had rejoined them. “They are Stanley
Hayter
,” he
said.

         
“
Hayter
was part of Atelier 17,” Annette added. “
Miró
worked there for a time as well, as did Ernst.” She
examined the prints for a long moment. “These are good examples of his work,
but not really what we’re looking for.”

         
Rene’s
eyes flashed, but he kept smiling. “Of course. Come this way. You mention
Miró
; I think you might like this.” He led them into the
next room. There was a giant canvas on the wall. It was painted bright blue,
with four black dots angled across it and a bright red slash of paint. The
signature was unmistakable.

         
“Wow,”
Annette said. “That’s lovely.” She took a moment to examine the painting. It
didn’t hold Clifford’s interest, and he wandered further into the room.

         
“Annette,”
he said, excitement clear in his voice. “Come here.” She looked up to see him
beckoning to her. He was standing in front of a small frame. “You’ve got to see
this.”

         
She
joined him to see a sketch of Max Ernst, white haired with a sharp nose. “This
is the Carrington?” she asked.

         
Rene
nodded. “You see what he’s working on?”

         
“That’s
his bird sculpture,” Annette said. She turned to Clifford. “After Leonora and
Max became lovers, they moved in together. And they each sculpted protective
animal spirits to guard over them and their new relationship. Max did the
birds, Leonora made a horse’s head.”

         
Clifford
was beaming. “I love the energy of this.” He was practically bouncing on his
heels. “There’s such an intimacy in this moment.”

         
Rene
agreed. “She was bearing witness to Max in the moment of creation. And of
course, she was no small talent herself.”

         
“You
know I have to ask,” Clifford said.

         
“The
heirs would love to get fifteen for it,” Rene said. “But for you, it would be
only ten.”

         
Annette
nodded. “Why don’t you show us the rest,” she said. “And then we’ll talk
numbers.”

         
Rene
pressed on. “Of course, you can see here in the way she’s sloped his shoulders
and angled the neck the same lines in the portrait,” he said, pointing to the
sketch.
 
“It’s dated on the back,
September of 38.”

         
Annette
nodded again, and then stepped to Clifford’s side. She took him by the elbow
and guided him further into the room. “Let’s look at what’s over here.”

         
Clifford
looked at her, puzzled. Annette gave a very quick shake of her head, hoping
Rene didn’t see the gesture. “I just want to see everything before we make any
decisions.”

         
“The
Carrington is the best piece,” Rene said, following them. “I’ve already had two
people calling about it.” Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at it and
smiled. “That’s one of the gentlemen now.” He stepped away to take the call.

         
“You
don’t think it’s worth ten million?” Clifford said.

         
“I
don’t think it’s worth ten dollars,” Annette replied. “Go look at it again.”

         
Clifford
walked back in front of the sketch. He peered at it intensely. “I’m not seeing
what you’re seeing, obviously. I really love the energy. It’s got a freshness
about it.”

         
“The
reason it’s got a freshness about it is because it’s fresh,” Annette said. She
gestured toward Ernst’s arms working on the sculpture. “See those lines there?
The swoop and glide? You’ve seen them before.”

         
“I
have?” Clifford asked.