Page 67 of In the Frame

“Tell me what you’re going to do, then.” Michael sips his drink, looking satisfied.

“I’m going to freak out quietly for at least another day, and then I’ll text him my decision. But I don’t want to betray my friends either. You can see where this is complicated.”

“It’s complicated,” Michael agrees, “but I have faith in you that you can find a way to uncomplicate it.”

“I wish I had your confidence.” I sigh and shake my head with some amount of resignation. “I think I like to torture myself. Like some kind of character flaw I wish I could cancel.”

Michael tilts his head. “Are you going to go?”

I’m quiet for a long moment. Then I nod. “Yeah. I think I will.”

“Then tell him. No need to keep it a secret. You can even text him right now.”

I look scandalized. “Now?”

“Why not?”

“Well…” I glance at my phone for the time. It’s nearly 6:00 p.m. Florian’s probably still working or having a business dinner meeting or who knows. Maybe it’s a good time.

“I dare you.” Michael’s eyes glimmer with mischief. “See what happens with your investor. I mean, didn’t artists in medieval times—or now—dream of having a patron? Maybe he can be your patron to make up for his sins.”

“You,” I accuse, “are doing this on purpose.”

“Yes. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“You’re the worst.”

“The best,” Michael says lightly.

Shaking my head, I unlock my phone and call up Florian’s contact. With whatever shreds of courage I keep somewhere, I start to type out a message to Florian. With Michael watching me, it’s hard to think straight. I draw in a breath and pretend he’s not sitting across the table so I can type a message.

Finally, after a couple of false tries, I go with:

I’ll go with you to the gala

And I hit Send.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

On the evening of the charity ball, my stomach’s in knots as I approach the London Art & Design Museum. It’s a gorgeous August evening, the sun lowering and the shadows long across the promenade by the River Thames. Very well-dressed people are streaming in toward the museum in black tie, gowns and tuxedos as far as I can see. Some pose on the promenade, getting selfies or taking photos of each other with Tower Bridge in the background.

Then my stomach tightens even further as I realize there’s a red carpet to the entry and paparazzi lined up. My eyes widen. I was not mentally prepared for this. Good thing I took a Valium earlier to counteract my anxiety. Sucking back a breath, I scan around for Florian, who is somewhere in here. I glance down at my phone again. His message says he’s here. Somewhere.

Except the men look the same in their tuxes, and it feels a little like a needle-in-a-haystack situation. I adjust my bow tie. Florian insisted on covering the tux rental because this is his event, after all. But what if I retreat now and pretend I didn’t actually agree to come and go into deep hiding?

You can do this.

I weave through the knots of people laughing and enjoying the sun and the views. Finally, I spot Florian talking to someone, who listens seriously to him. Not Billy, thank God, who’s presumably inside already to mastermind his event. Though he probably has staff for that.

What part of me thought attending a gala would be reasonable?

Except Florian. He looks incredible in his tux. Comfortable. Like nothing’s out of place. I walk closer, taking in a deep breath. Then Florian spots me while he’s talking to the silver-haired couple. I hang back, and a couple of moments later, Florian’s excused himself, and he strides over with enviable confidence.

His gaze meets mine, and oh God. In this light, his eyes are very green. And evidently only on me. Relief crosses his face as a warm smile teases his lips. “Matty. I was starting to worry you weren’t going to come.”

“I made it. Delays on the train. Sorry.” I give him a wry smile.

Florian takes in the sight of me, obviously liking what he sees as his smile broadens. My stomach continues its dance. He’s gorgeous, of course, because genetics, and confidence, and an ease of moving in the world like he’s used to attention. And he’s turning heads, naturally. Probably because he’s sexy as fuck right now and also some kind of hotshot.