‘Oh, that’s…’ She tailed off, nodding miserably.
‘Yeah, really big. Oil paintings mostly. The kind no one wants to buy.’
‘Right,’ she said, feeling rebuked. Okay, so she wasn’t good at small talk, but he didn’t have to be so rude. Did he have to make it so obvious that he couldn’t be arsed even talking to her for a few minutes? She didn’t imagine that blonde’s conversation had been scintillating either, but she’d seen the indulgent way he’d been gazing at her.
‘And, no, I’m not the next Damien Hirst, or whatever other living artist you happen to have heard of. I don’t own a gallery, and I’m not really a graphic designer or advertising creative who paints in his spare time.’
‘Well, at least you’ve cleared that up,’ she said stiffly, brushing imaginary crumbs from her dress. ‘Because they were definitely going to be my next three questions.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, if they weren’t, it’d be a first for this evening. I’m not minted either, by the way.’
‘I can tell,’ she said, casting a scathing glance at him.Don’t sink to his level of rudeness.
‘Hey,’ he said, with a laugh. ‘How do you know I’m notjust an eccentric millionaire who dresses like a bum for shits and giggles?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think Yvonne would have gone out with you if you were a millionaire. You’re not her type.’
‘No, Yvonne likes the pretty boys,’ he said, looking across the room at Yvonne and Ivan. ‘Not that I’m sayingI’m not pretty.’
‘Of course not.’
‘So you think Yvonne was with me for my lack of money? She was using me to get at Daddy?’
Claire got the impression the idea wasn’t new to him. ‘Sorry.’
He shrugged. ‘No biggie. We both got what we wanted out of it.’
Claire raised an eyebrow. He was implying that he had got sex, and she knew for a fact that wasn’t true. ‘Yvonne’s not a bad person,’ she said. ‘She just has Daddy issues.’
‘Yeah, I got that. Yvonne’s all right. She’s the best ofthisbunch, that’s for sure,’ he said, looking around.
Claire struggled to come up with something else to say, but drew a blank. She was relieved when she saw the leggy blonde returning from the bar with a couple of drinks. ‘Oh, your, um… friend is coming back,’ she said, getting up.
‘Hey, you don’t have to go.’ Luca shifted so he only took up one corner of the sofa and there was room for three again.
‘I’m in her seat.’
‘Hardly. She was sitting on me.’
‘Well, three’s a crowd so…’ Claire picked up her empty glass. ‘I need another drink anyway,’ she said, wiggling it around. ‘It was nice to meet you.’
She turned on her heel, relieved to get away from him. Forcing what she hoped was a natural-looking smile onto her face, she marched up to the bar and asked for another glass of mineral water, trying to appear confident and nonchalant. She shouldn’t have been so quick to ditch Luca, she thought, her eyes straying back to the sofa, where the blonde was making strenuous efforts to get back onto his lap. Just then, his eyes met Claire’s. He gave her a little smile that was almost sympathetic. Claire looked away again quickly. She stood at the bar for a while, sipping her water. God, this was her idea of hell. How much longer before she could reasonably call it a night? Maybe she could fill in some time in the loo…
‘Claire!’ Yvonne rushed up to her, Philip and Fionn in tow. ‘We’re all going on to a club after this. Will you come?’
‘Oh, not tonight. I really have to go soon,’ Claire said, glancing at her watch. ‘I’ve got work in the morning, remember?’
‘Oh, pooh.’ Yvonne pouted. She looked over Claire’s shoulder. ‘Luca. You’re not leaving already?’
Claire turned to see Luca behind her. He was on his own.
‘We’re going to a club later. Come with us,’ Yvonne pleaded.
‘No, I’m off home.’
‘Alone?’ Yvonne raised her eyebrows.
‘Yeah, I’m beat. And broke.’
