“I really doubt that. I know how he gets around pretty Americans.” She gives me a knowing look, and then her expression shifts to something more serious. “I need to talk to you about something. Will you walk with me?”
She leads me away from the crowd to a secluded part of the gallery.
“I have a proposition for you,” she says.
“Okay,” I say, intrigued.
“You know the royal family has had the same portrait artist for five decades—Henri Beaumont. He painted my grandparents, my parents, Louis and me as children.”
“I’ve seen his work. He is a master.”
“Yes. He was incredible, but he passed away three months ago.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” She takes a breath. “My parents, the king and queen, are searching for a replacement. They’ve organized a competition. Ten artists, invited to the castle to compete for the position. The winner becomes the official royal portrait artist and will be given a special project. It’s one of the highest honors in our country.”
My heart beats faster. “That sounds incredible.”
“All expenses paid. A cottage on the property for the duration of the competition. Access to the royal collection for inspiration,” she says.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want to invite you.” She meets my eyes. “The only way to be considered is if a member of the royal family extends an invitation. It’s that exclusive. And I’d like to extend one to you.”
A chill runs up my spine, and goose bumps cover my arms. This is an opportunity artists dream about having. The kind that changes careers and lives.
“Why me?” I ask.
“Because I’ve been following your artwork for the past five years, and I love everything you’ve created. I selfishly want you to paint the family. And I think we could be friends,” she says.
“Aw,” I tell her.
“Please say you’ll think about it.” She squeezes my arm. “You’re incredibly talented, Addison. And you would be the only woman competing. There is one more thing.”
“Yes?” I ask.
Movement catches my eye across the gallery. Patterson and Kendall emerge from a hallway, looking flushed, like they put their clothes on in a hurry. Kendall’s lipstick is smeared, and Patterson’s shirt is untucked. Some things never change.
“I need to know tonight before I leave. I know it’s short notice, but I wanted to see this gallery before extending the invitation. I’m impressed,” she offers.
I look around the room, and it feels like everyone in my life has something. Someone. A direction. Right now, I’m going with the flow, but I’ve also spent the last five years playing it safe.
I turn to Delphine and smile. “I’ll take the opportunity.”
“You don’t want to think about it a little longer?”
“No,” I tell her.
Her face lights up, and she pulls me into a hug. “We’re going to have so much fun. Can you be on a plane next week?”
Across the room, Louis catches my eye. He’s finished his phone call, and he’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite read. Maybe he’s curious or interested, but I feel the danger behind it.
“Absolutely,” I say, still looking at him.
Delphine follows my gaze and grins like she knows something I don’t. “Oh, this is going to be interesting.” Someone calls her name, and she squeezes my hand. “I’ll send you all the details. Soon, I’ll be saying,Welcome to Montclaire, Addison Cross.”
She disappears into the crowd, and Patterson and Kendall make their way over to me. They look thoroughly fucked and are trying to pretend they weren’t somewhere together.
