Deliciously British

by Scarlett Avery

  “I might be blonde, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t see right through you. That was a commendable effort, but alas, your heart wasn’t in it. I’m not going to argue with you now, because we both need to get back to work, but I’m forewarning you, Saturday night I intend to push you way past your comfort zone.”

  She really doesn’t have to do that. “Since when did casual drinks turn into a matchmaking affair?” I ask, concerned.

  “Who said anything about matchmaking? Have you ever heard of the art of flirting? It’s innocent, fun and nonthreatening. It’s perfect for ingénues like yourself.”

  “You should know in advance I miserably failed that class.” I snort sarcastically.

  “Don’t worry your pretty little head. Just make sure to dress the part. I already know Gideon will transform you into a sexy siren. You’ll only need a dab of makeup to stop traffic. Mark my words, by the end of the evening you’ll be a pro and you’ll have men eating out of the palm of your hand.”

  “If you say so.” I’m fully aware I don’t sound very enthusiastic.

  “Have a little faith, Delilah. Not to mention, you need to get the ball rolling because your fanny needs some action, pronto.”

  “What—”

  Piper cuts me off. “You’ll thank me later.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Ethan

  Fifteen more minutes to go, I tell myself when I look down at my watch.

  Although this meeting is going smashingly, I can’t help but be eager to wrap things up. I could say it’s because I’m in a rush to get back to my office to attend to urgent deadlines, or that I have an important call to make to a prospective client who’s ready to fork out several hundreds of thousands of pounds sterling to acquire new artwork, or I could even claim that I have to follow up with a new young artist who might just turn out to be the biggest thing to take the art world by storm in a long time. I could indeed, but I’d be lying. There’s only one reason why I’m so obsessed with the minutes ticking away as quickly as possible. Delilah.

  The second we’re done here, I intend on marching straight to her desk to thank her for the delicious sandwich she ordered. Clearly, this is a clever attempt to strike up a conversation with the sexy, curvaceous American without looking too obvious. This is her place of work and this is a new position for her—it’s best to tread carefully. My real motivation is to ask her out for a drink. Of course, the plan is to extend things into dinner and then possibly a nightcap or two. After that, who knows? If I play my cards right, I should be able to taste her luscious lips before the end of the evening. If I turn on the charm and heighten the seduction factor, I might be lucky enough to taste her other set of lips as well. Something tells me they’re intoxicating.

  I know I saw her first, but this sweet little thing is the kind of sensual beauty my best friend and I would fight over. Of course, it’s all in good fun because we’d never allow a woman to come between us. We go way back and we’ve shared too much to put our friendship on the line. There’s not a pussy in the world that’s worth jeopardizing such a solid bond. I’d sooner walk away than risk creating any friction between us—and I’m certain he’d do the same. We may not be blood brothers, but this is as close as it gets. We’ve always had a preference for buxom women and make no excuse for it. I know we’d both enjoy Delilah immensely.

  I’m still lost in my thoughts when I suddenly notice Ashley smiling at me. My momentary distraction isn’t a good thing. Did she just ask me a question and is she waiting for the answer? “I’m sorry, Ashley, you were saying?” I hope I didn’t miss too much.

  “I know it’s been a long meeting and even with three cups of strong coffee, it’s still draining.” She looks so apologetic.

  “Not at all,” I reassure her. I really should be paying attention instead of daydreaming of the way my big balls would sound bouncing against Delilah’s clit as I take her from behind, my hips pounding relentlessly against that exquisite round ass of hers with both of my hands cupped around her huge tits. I’m sure they’re heavy and hang low—just the way I like them. Damn. As cock-hardening as the thought is—and God knows that would be the sweetest sound in the world—this is not the time nor the place. I quickly gather my thoughts to come across as the professional that I am. “You know how much I enjoy working with you and your team. We’ve had an excellent creative session and we covered so much. I already know that my clients will be fighting each other to get their hands on the artwork of some of these new artists you’ve just signed up. That said, I predict that Virginia Fairclough will soon become one of the most sought-after American artist in the UK. Great job on snatching her before the competition did.” I wink.

  “I’m glad to hear you say that, Ethan. And, by the way, I completely agree with your assessment of Virginia. Her talent is boundless. Her art is so bold, colorful and vibrant. They’re statement pieces.” Ashley shrugs in a matter-of-fact way. That’s a typical reaction in our industry when you know you’ve discovered a gem. “She’s truly what we call a diamond in the rough.”

  “Not for long.” I wink again. “I expect that before the end of the day, I’ll already have contacted five potential buyers I know off the top of my head who would absolutely be enthralled by her work.” I grin.

  “This is such an exciting ride,” Ashley rejoices. “We got a little sidetracked, but to answer your earlier question, I was just saying that we saved the best for last.” She beams.

  “You did?” Really? Virginia is only one of the seven new artists Ashley and her team has been briefing me on. I can’t believe there’s more. “What have you been hiding from me?” I tease.

  “It’s big news.” Benjamin jumps in.

  Ashley nods. “As unbelievable as it may seem, the roster of new creative talent we’ve secured is phenomenal, but still, they don’t hold a candle to this artistic genius I have yet to reveal. She’s absolutely brilliant.”

  “Have you discovered a modern-day Jackson Pollock?” I chuckle.

  “You could say that.” Wow. Ashley’s answer surprises me.

  “In that case, you definitely have my attention. The suspense surrounding this mystery artist is killing me,” I joke.

  “In our industry, you’d have to be living on Mars not to have heard of this talented abstract impressionist. You’re going to die when you find out who it is. I know I nearly had a heart attack,” Benjamin says, fanning himself dramatically.

  “Seriously? Now I’m really intrigued.” I rub my hands together in anticipation.

  “Since it’s nearly two o’clock, may I suggest we continue this meeting over lunch?” Ashley asks.

  How can she do this to me? “Is that a stalling tactic, Ashley?” I retort.

  “Not at all, Ethan. I’m far too famished to be that witty. As delicious as that breakfast sandwich was, it’s long gone. Obviously, I could ask Constance or Delilah to order something for us to eat here, but we’ve been cooped up long enough. Don’t you agree?”

  “That’s just cruel,” I lament. “How can you tease me like that and leave me hanging?”

  “Anticipation keeps you hungry, dear Ethan.” She’s right. The expectation of new business is definitely a driving force for me.

  “Ashley, we’ve worked together long enough. You know that I’m always eager to bring fresh new talent to my long list of clients with deep pockets. Why don’t you pull the rabbit out of the hat right now so we can get this over with?” I press.

  When I first walked in Harrow Sloane Arts four years ago, Ashley Shilton was starting out as a curator. She was fresh out of a PhD degree from Goldsmiths, University of London, and just by chance she was also a fan from the heyday of my former career. At the time, I only had one client—my former business manager—but Ashley convinced the owner of the gallery to ignore my past and take a chance on me. I’m grateful she did. In many ways she gave me my first big break. I’ve been riding high ever since.

  “I can’t argue with the fact that you’re a master at selling o
ur artists to your clients. I promise I’ll lay my cards on the table the second my stomach is full. Not to mention, I could use a change of scenery,” she says.

  “I’m too much of a gentleman to refuse to feed a beautiful woman.”

  “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” She winks. “Esther can’t join us. She has an important meeting with a client who’ll only work with her, but why don’t Benjamin, you and I go and grab a bite to eat?”

  “All right. Food first,” I say, slamming my palm against the conference room table.

  “Great, it’s settled.” Ashley jumps to her feet. “Esther will attend to her temperamental mogul. I mean Mr. Ficht.” Ashley flashes us a sly smile. We all laugh. “The three of us are going to stretch our legs and make our way to the restaurant for a hearty meal.”

  * * *

  When Ashley suggested lunch, I thought she was talking about a quick bite. I didn’t expect this. Apparently she made the reservation last week, which leads me to believe this new artist she’s discovered—and is withholding from me—is really golden.

  Portrait Restaurant is a modern British restaurant on top of the National Portrait Gallery. The view across London is unparalleled. The food is equally unmatched. Both Benjamin and I feast on the exquisite grilled veal chop with Roquefort butter served with mixed leaf salad. Alas, Ashley has to take home her breast of duck with summer truffle. We’re just getting comfortable when she receives a call from the nursery where she takes her youngest daughter. Apparently, Mia is inconsolable after being bullied, again, by a little menace by the name of Yvonne. Since Ashley’s husband Samuel is on business in Amsterdam until next week, she’s the sole parent to her two kids. After apologizing, she slips her designer handbag over her shoulder and before Benjamin and I even have time to say goodbye she’s gone, her hurried steps carrying her to the door.

  Over a decadent chocolate marquise dessert with pistachio crème Anglaise and a couple more glasses of French wine, Benjamin fills me in on the mystery American artist they secured. The second he drops her name, my eyes light up. You’d think I was a child standing in the middle of Trafalgar Square mesmerized by the tall, illuminated Christmas tree. Ashley was right. This is a bloody big deal.

  “Calysta Knight?” That’s phenomenal,” I marvel as Benjamin recounts the detail surrounding the long courtship before the talented artist finally said yes.

  “Everything is still so new and I can’t quite wrap my head around it all, but Monday night when we hung up the phone with her, I knew I was part of something incredible. Ashley’s warm personality won her over. It took months of negotiation.” I’m surprised Benjamin is willingly giving Ashley the credit when she’s not even here. It’s not usually how he operates. He tends to brown-nose only when the person he’s sucking up to is still present in the room.

  “This is the kind of artist that will make a significant impact on the gallery’s notoriety,” I note. It will also be quite the coup for my own business.

  “Oh, trust me. Everyone is fully aware of it, Ethan. We’re so excited. Ashley convinced the owner of the gallery to let us organize a gala to kick things off and he agreed on the spot.”

  “That’s incredible news. I’m definitely looking forward to it. When will it take place?”

  “Since Calysta spends the summer with her kids at her summer home, we won’t start to represent her until the end of September, but Ashley convinced her to come to London sooner to kick things off. Her presence here next month will get everyone in the industry buzzing, which means this upcoming gala will officially welcome her to British soil. I’m sure the evening will be a smashing success. Calysta and her husband will be here in July. It’s not going to be a huge thing. Think an intimate affair with maybe fifty guests or so. That said, it should bring out Londoners who have money to burn.”

  “Indeed it will.” The wealth in this city is staggering.

  “We’re planning something much more elaborate in autumn. That event will draw in at least three hundred art aficionados, if not more. It’s going to be huge.”

  “This will definitely make history, Benjamin.”

  He leans in closer and looks from left to right before speaking again. “There’s more.”

  “Really?” I match his hushed tone. “What could possibly top this news?” Benjamin beams at my reaction. If this day gets any better, I’ll have to buy a EuroMillions lottery ticket.

  “What I didn’t tell you is that Calysta has sixteen exclusive pieces she worked on over the last couple of years. Most of us in the art world were completely oblivious to their existence. While she was recovering from her ovarian cancer, she lost herself in her passion as a way to heal.”

  “Wow.” I shake my head, pinching my lips together. “Calysta’s heart-wrenching struggle and her courageous recovery is well talked about in our circle. No one can blame her for going into hiding for two years.”

  “You’re right. Luckily, she’s back and cancer-free. She wasn’t ready to sell those pieces before, but now she is. She showed us a portfolio and they are absolutely breathtaking. I can only imagine what they look like when you’re standing close to them. I don’t care how expensive your computer screen is—and God knows Apple kicks ass in that department—it will never do justice to the real thing.”

  “I absolutely agree. Are those pieces here in London?” I’m trying hard to contain my excitement, but it’s a challenge.

  Benjamin shakes his head. “They’re all sitting in her New York City warehouse just begging for the right buyers. We’ll have all sixteen at the gallery a few weeks before the July gala. These are more than pretty paintings. Personally, I think the emotional connection will be a big selling point.” Wow, I didn’t think Benjamin had it in him to go that deep.

  “I agree. It’s no longer just a piece of art, it’s the story of a journey—her struggle and her triumph.” This big reveal has my head churning. “At this rate, I’m going to have to hire another assistant.” I might be making light of things, but I’m dead serious.

  “I thought you just hired a couple of new ones. Are they not working out?” Benjamin enquires.

  “Before I answer your question, would you like another glass of wine?” I ask, tilting my empty glass towards me. My plan was go back to the office and brief my team on the seven artists Ashley brought on. After what Benjamin just shared, I’m going to have to take some time to really strategize how we move forward from here. This means there’s no rush for me to get back. Once I’m done with Benjamin, I’ll simply text my staff to let them know I won’t be there until later.

  “We’ve already polished off one bottle, Mr. Gordimer, and it’s still midday. You live dangerously, Ethan.”

  I fold my arms and pull at my sleeve to check the time. “Considering it’s already a quarter to four, I’d hardly call it midday. It’s nearing cocktail hour here and happy hour just ended in New York,” I joke. “Not to mention I never said anything about ordering another bottle. We’ll keep it to a glass… or two.”

  “In that case, yes, let’s do another round.” Benjamin smiles.

  I lift my hand to catch our waiter Charles’ attention. Even though things have become quite busy since a large group of Japanese tourists swarmed through the front door, he still manages to notice me immediately. I mouth my order. He nods and before I know it, he’s dropping two more glasses of Mourvèdre in front of us. It does help that I’ve been here plenty of times in the past and my love of French bold reds is legendary among the wait staff.

  I take a few sips and exhale, satisfied. Benjamin does the same. “To answer your question, I’ve always had the best of luck with my assistants. I know so many people who have horrible stories about hired help, but I’m not one of them. That said, the two new girls I just hired set the bar really high. They may be fresh out of university, but they’re incredibly dedicated. Lorraine, who’s been with me for a few years now, is still a superstar and she continues to impress me every single day. I couldn’t ask for more… well
, until a few minutes ago.” I smile. “Calysta Knight changes everything. Once I reveal to my clients they’ll be able to get their hands on one of her pieces, I doubt my small team will be able to manage. I have a sneaky feeling I’m going to have to charm Ashley into allowing me to steal Delilah right from under her nose so she can come work for me.” I chuckle. Although it would never normally cross my mind to have a boss-employee relationship, I’d definitely be willing to break my own rules for the sweet little Texan. I have no doubt she’d be well worth it.

  Damn, I can’t believe my plans went awry. Thinking of her makes me realize how much I failed. I was so certain that by now I’d have Delilah’s mobile number on speed dial in my phone, but things didn’t quite work out in my favor this afternoon. After our meeting, I intended to accost the curvy beauty as Benjamin and Ashley were getting their things together, but she was nowhere to be found. Greg—who I had the displeasure of speaking to again—informed me that she had accompanied Gemma to an off-site meeting. To say the timing was unfortunate is an understatement. If I weren’t leaving for a business trip tomorrow, I would have popped by to see her to make my intentions known. Alas, I’m going to have to wait until next week to see her again.

  “Delilah?” Benjamin cries out. I can’t tell if his expression is of surprise or disbelief.

  “Yes, the American who’s shadowing Gemma,” I add to make sure there’s no confusion.

  “Hmph. You can’t be serious,” he snaps.

  His reaction is interesting.

  Since we’re sitting side by side—neither of us bothered to move after Ashley’s abrupt departure—I place my right arm over the seat and turn my body to face him. “I absolutely am,” I affirm.

  “That’s ridiculous.” He grimaces as you would when milk goes sour.

  “Why do you say that?” I challenge.

  “It would be an utter waste of your time to bring her on board, Ethan.” He rolls his eyes as if I just told him we’re doing away with our monarchy. I beg to differ. I personally think it would be time very well spent.