‘What brought you to London?’
‘The weather and the food.’
Milton clicks his tongue. ‘What do you do for a living?’
‘I’m looking for inspiration.’
Loris smiles again with a confidence that relaxes Charles. Milton is powerless against someone who remains unimpressed.
‘Loris is a talented artist. Give it five years and you’ll fight to own his pieces.’
‘Maybe ten.’ Loris winks. ‘It’s harder to gain a profitable reputation than to develop skills.’
‘But in this house, we favour talent over renown. Don’t we, Father?’
‘Where did you develop said skills?’ Milton asks after an inscrutable glance at Charles.
‘I went to a very selective art school run by Vincent De Cenvint. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.’
‘I can’t say that I have.’
‘Oh.’
Loris’ incredulous pout is perfect. Not offensive, but judgemental enough to hit a proud nerve.
‘Loris is the future! Which is why I’ve decided to manage him.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I’ll build his reputation in London. I can get himinto the right events to meet the right people. We’ll also work on his website tonight. And before you ask, yes, he’ll pay me.’
‘With the money he makes looking for inspiration?’
‘My grandad is the founder ofLes Croissants Chauds,’ Loris replies, credibly invested in the tall tale. ‘You don’t have to worry.’
‘I will be the judge of that. Charles, I don’t like this.’
Charles brushes the objection aside, holding his father’s stare with more poise than he ever has, which brings Milton to temporarily yield.
‘We will discuss it tomorrow. Do not stay here too long. It was nice to meet you, Lawrence.’
‘Likewise, Marton.’
Charles snorts and gets the darkest glower as a result.
‘It is “Sir” for you, young man.’
‘And it’s Loris for you, Sir. For everybody, really.’
Smoke is coming out of Milton’s ears, but he swallows his anger. Expressing a strong emotion in front of the person triggering it is the very definition of weakness by his standards.
He gestures at the bench, muttering, ‘I told you to stop wearing that red jacket,’ and bolts out of the room.
Charles counts six steps, then rushes to close the door. He leans his back against it and snorts again.
‘I will get an earful about you.’
‘Sorry.’
