Page 51 of The Stipulation
“Electric live wire comes to mind.”
“I don’t know about live wires,” she says, folding her hands on the table. “But I definitely got the impression that you walked into the Louvre Museum with me expecting to be bored.”
“True. I expected to endure it,” I admit. “I do appreciate fine art, but I don’t make a habit of spending full days in galleries. But…”
“But?”
“But then you started explaining the geometry of The Last Supper like you were unveiling state secrets.”
Her lips twitch. “You mean, you were actually listening.”
“I always listen to live wires.”
She studies me over the rim of her glass. “Come on, admit it. You were skeptical.”
“I was testing you.”
Her eyes narrow playfully. “Testing me,” she repeats.
“Yes.”
“For what exactly?”
“Depth.”
She laughs outright at that. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I like to know who I’m investing my time in.”
“This isn’t a merger, Axel.”
“Perhaps not in the strictest sense of the word,” I agree quietly.
The words shift something between us, softens it. She glances down, then back up, her smile gentler now.
“My favorite exhibition was Caravaggio,” she says, redirecting. “The drama of it. The shadows.”
“You just like anything that looks mildly dangerous.”
“And you don’t?” she challenges me.
I lean back. “I prefer controlled risk.”
“That explains your art preferences.”
“I also noticed you spent an indecent amount of time staring at that sculpture in the Greek wing,” I say.
Her lips press together to hide a grin. “Which one?” she says, feigning innocence.
“The one with the very impressive marble anatomy.”
She chokes on her wine. “I was studying the craftsmanship.”
“Of course you were.”
“It was… accurate.”
I feel a reluctant smile tug at my mouth. “You nearly walked into a column because you were so distracted.”
