Page 3 of Monsters

“I’m just down the road.”

“Me too.”

“Okay then,” I conceded. “That’s very kind.” We farewelled the doorman, who tipped his cap in response, and once we were on the street, the door lock slid shut. The night was still warm, and the humidity instantly dampened my skin. A heat wave was sweeping the city making even breathing a difficult task.

“I’m in basement parking down the street,” I said, breaking the awkward silence.

“Me also.” David smiled, placing a hand on the small of my back. We started walking, the only noise the clicking of my heels on the sidewalk and the honking of horns in the distance. It was David who continued the conversation.

“I really am impressed with your work ethic, Gemma. The Ronaldo case, however, I feel might be a challenging one.”

“Oh?”

David loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. “There are many gallery directors who have refused to work with him ever again. He’s burned a lot of bridges and his reputation isn’t great.”

This piqued my interest, and as long as we talked business, it reduced the chance of anything inappropriate. “What’s he done?”

“Ronaldo’s a known diva who expects everything and gives nothing in return. He’s often quite vocal about any shortcomings. Usually, I would shy away from high-maintenance artists like that, but Ronaldo Ruiz is like striking gold. The people love him, and his artworks have basically quadrupled in price in the past four years. I actually have one of his pieces hanging in my bedroom.”

A suggestive silence followed, and heat flushed my cheeks. I refused to take his bait, but it didn’t deter David. My discomfort was often the goal.

We came to a stop at the flight of dimly lit stairs that led down to the illuminated basement.

“I can assure you, David…” I said, getting the conversation back on track, “… if we do secure Ruiz, he and I will work side by side without a hitch.”

“Your negotiating skills would be better used in the UN, I’m sure of it.”

“You don’t have to worry. Look how well Maximus turned out, and he had some fairly interesting demands and expectations.”

David’s eyes softened, his hand lifting to tuck a strand of loose hair behind my ear. His knuckles intentional or not brushed against my skin, and I pulled slightly away, cautious to not cause offense. He was a good-looking, self-assured man and I was certain he was rarely rejected, but I simply wasn’t interested in kissing my career goodbye.

“I should go,” I said, embarrassed. David was married to a beautiful woman. He had no business trying to get up in my business, but he was a man who wanted his cake so he could scarf it down too.

He nodded, undeterred by the deflection.

“Peter still in the picture?” he asked of my boyfriend of five months.

“Yes, he is,” I answered, ignoring his scrutinous stare. “He’s away a lot with work which is why he can’t join me at the openings.”

A shoe scuff on polished cement in the basement caught our attention. We both glanced down the stairwell at the well-built man who was silhouetted by the light. He stood motionless, wearing a thick hoody on a sweltering night. He appeared to be waiting for us to go down first before he could make his way up the narrowed staircase.

“Come,” David said, taking the lead. We were halfway down when the hooded man took to the steps two at a time meeting us in the middle. He by-passed David with ease given it was a tight squeeze but made little effort to avoid contact with me. His broad shoulder knocked mine in a deliberate barge. I was mid-step when thrown back onto the dirty step, my palms scraping the concrete.

“Hey!” I snapped at his blatant rudeness. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Offering no apology or assistance, the man turned left and disappeared from sight. The only thing that remained was the sweet, spicy scent of his cologne.

“Jesus, Gemma.” David turned, somewhat startled by the altercation. Gripping my elbow, he hauled me to my feet. “Are you hurt?”

“Just a grazed palm.” I grimaced while dusting myself off and smoothing out my dress. Offering a hand, David assisted me down the remainder of the stairs. “We’ve obviously disturbed him because it’s only our two cars left here.”

“You think he was trying to steal a car?”

“Quite possibly.

“Are you okay to get home?” he asked, genuinely concerned as we stopped next to my Audi.

“I’m fine, truly. It was Charlie who guzzled most of the champagne.”

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