Page 8 of Holiday Hoax

“Isn’t the only person’s opinion who matters the artist’s?”

“When an artist puts their work out into the world for public consumption, it belongs equally to those who perceive it.”

“That’s deep.”

She giggles. “That’s what happens when you stare at art all day.”

“How has work been going? Is it picking up any?”

“I had a big sale this week which will help, but it was a friend. The same day I got a letter from the building HOA informing me that the monthly fees are increasing, so if you have any friends in the market for art, send them my way.”

“How much did they increase?”

“Two hundred dollars.” She breaks eye contact with a slight shake of her head. “Which probably seems like a paltry amount to you, but I’m behind on so much.”

I have a feeling that Nico has no idea what’s going on with Mia. If he did, I know he and Stella would bend over backwards to help her. The fact that they aren’t tells me that she doesn’t want to ask for help. I’d give her the money myself if I thought she’d accept and not be offended.

“I’m sorry.” She squeezes my forearm. “My financial trouble isn’t something you want to hear about.”

“I don’t mind. I’m actually trying to figure out a way to help.”

“I’ll figure it out. I’m going to look into getting a second job.”

“What if I knew a way to help you and me?” I ask as an idea takes root in my head.

“How?” She looks at me curiously.

“Well, I need to start bringing a date to company functions and social gatherings. None of the women my mother wants to set me up with are a good fit, and I have no prospects on my own.”

“Okay…” her voice trails off as she keeps listening intently.

“And you need to work your way into different social circles to network and meet potential new clients.”

I pause while she takes in the suggestion. Her expression is thoughtful but open as she mulls it over. She pulls her lower lip between her teeth and looks up at me. I know she’s just thinking, but it’s incredibly sexy so I glance away.

“So we’d be, what, fake dating?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“How long?”

“Through the holidays.”

She nods. “I can do that.”

Relief surges through my veins for the first time since my dinner with the board. I’ll have someone interesting and who can carry an engaging conversation at these events. The best part, though, is that it’ll help her.

I extend my hand. “So we have a deal?”

“We do.” She takes my hand and shakes it with a smile.

“Mr. Jameson?” Derrick says from the doorway between his desk and my office, his coat draped over his arm. “Do you want to accept this dinner reservation with the chairman and his wife for tomorrow evening?”

“Not particularly,” I say honestly. “But yes. Tell him I’m bringing a date.”

“Okay.” He pulls out his phone and sends the response. “Who is your date?”

“Mia Mattia.”

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