An Artist's Kiss [Dark Desires 4] (Siren Publishing Sensations) Page 2
“So how did the move go, Issie, last weekend? Sorry I couldn’t help but I had to get that Italian gig sorted and I only got back on Tuesday night.”
“That’s okay. The move was good. It’s so nice to be out of the city. I’ve always wanted to move back into the countryside.”
“You were lucky that place came on the market.”
“I know. It’s perfect for me. It might be large but I love it. I’ve still got the people in at the moment turning the old stables into a studio. They’ve already set up the big kiln and lined the whole place. Just the final fit out now.”
“I forgot to ask, how did your last gallery show go?”
“Fantastic! I sold everything.”
“Not surprised. Your work has been gaining in value over the past ten years, Issie. Everyone wants a ‘Leigh Price’ original. You could ask for any amount and you’d get it no trouble.”
Isabella smiled warmly and agreed.
“It’s a great feeling, Erica. I can sculpt whatever I want and people pay ridiculous amounts for a piece.”
“So have you got another commission yet?”
“Nothing yet. You know I cleared off everything so I could make the move without deadlines. I’d finished that insurance commission. So there’s nothing on the books, which means I can settle into the new studio without any pressure.”
“It will be wonderful for you, Issie, new house and new studio.”
“You still coming over to help me unpack tomorrow?”
“Of course. Hope you’ve got my bed sorted.” Erica gave a fake growl and warned, “I’m not sleeping on the floor.”
Isabella laughed. “No, I’ve got one of the spare bedrooms arranged for you but there are just so many damn boxes to empty and pack stuff away.”
Erica pushed her plate aside and said casually, “Seen anything of Peter?”
Isabella glared furiously at her friend.
“Why the hell would I ever want to see that creep again?” She felt angry and sickened.
“Just wondered.”
“No.”
Erica looked at her and speculated, “I don’t think he’s ever gotten over getting the short end of the stick in the divorce.”
“Yeah, well, I could have done without his dramatics. Bad enough we lived separate lives in separate countries for eight years but when he thought I was making a lot of money he decided he loved me still.”
“Honestly, he was really stupid to start sending you those emails and letters threatening you when you refused to give him anything. Then those couple of times he hit you. Heaven knows, why he thought abusing you would get him money is beyond me. I’m so glad you got that restraining order on him.”
Chuckling, Erica said, “Remember the day he came into the gallery with all those flowers declaring you were the only woman he ever loved and how he wanted another chance to make the marriage work?”
Isabella closed her eyes briefly, embarrassed at the memory.
“Don’t remind me. Why on earth he broke the order not to come near me I’ll never know. But it did make the front page when I told him to get lost and he threw the flowers all over the Mayor who just happened to be standing alongside me when Peter made his stupid declaration.”
“But it was funny.” Erica had an enormous smile on her face, remembering the day. “Pity they didn’t take a picture of him being taken away yelling abuse and in handcuffs.”
“I don’t think anyone expected that he’d hit me after throwing the flowers. I know I didn’t. The photographers were too busy taking pictures of the Mayor decorated in roses to notice us walk out.”
“Crazy when he knew you had that restraining order out on him. He must have thought if he gave you flowers and declared his love in front of the bigwigs you’d turn all mushy.”
“He’s a fool. Nobody in their right mind breaks a restraining order.” Isabella’s voice was filled with anger at the thought.
“It certainly didn’t help his case during the divorce.”
Then Isabella finally laughed and said, “He never did have much of a brain.”
“No, he’s one of those guys whose brain is in their dick. Beats me why you stayed married to him for that long.”
“Well, it was less than eight months we were actually together, married for about five, and then we’d been separated eight years. I really should have divorced him earlier but we were in different countries and I just never bothered. To be honest, I’d forgotten about him.”
Erica nodded her agreement.
“Guess I understand. Out of sight, out of mind until he discovered you were still making a lot of money modelling.”
“Yes. He thought he was going to get millions in settlement and instead he got a big fat zero and six months of community service for the assaults. So why did you ask if I’d seen him, Erica?”
“He’s back in town.”
“I doubt he’d contact me. I made it very plain twelve years ago when the divorce was finalised I never wanted to see him again.”
“Yes, but he knows you were once a soft touch for money and I heard on the grapevine he’s skint. Someone said he owes big time to some bookies.”
“Hell, I wouldn’t give him one penny!”
“Well, I’ve warned you he’s around. Just in case.”
“Erica, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to approach me. On top of that if he got angry and physically assaulted me again he knows this time he’d end up in gaol, even though the restraining order has long lapsed.”
The two women accepted coffee from their waiter. Isabella pushed all thoughts of her crazy ex-husband from her mind. The perfect weather was too nice to dwell on the fool. It was one of those amazing autumn days when the sun shone brightly. Isabella began to feel warm and peaceful as she relaxed in the midday sun. She glanced at Erica.
Erica had done so much for her both as a model and a sculptor. At nineteen Isabella had been working as an artist’s model for a year before she signed up with the agency that handled all types of models from catwalk to editorial right through to artists and photographical. At that time Erica was working as one of the agents but she bought the agency for herself five years later. The two women had hit it off immediately and rather than being just agent and model had become firm friends.
Erica encouraged Isabella to develop her sculpting when she saw some of the pieces Isabella had made. She’d even hosted Isabella’s first exhibition. That seemed so long ago now. Isabella hadn’t wanted to cash in on her modelling success so her work was created under her middle name and her mother’s maiden name—Leigh Price. People had no idea that “Issie” and “Leigh Price” were one and the same. She kept her face out of the spotlight, preferring to let her work earn its own merit.
Still, she had so much to thank Erica for. Without her she probably would never be in the position she was now. Now her work was considered some of the world’s best in the field. She commanded very high fees for her pieces, could pick and choose the commissions she wanted to take.
Isabella mainly worked in clay then made moulds to have bronze casts poured. Some of her pieces were made from marble but she really preferred working with the oil-based clay and bronze. The majority of her work were nudes and busts but she also did animals. Her most recent commission involved five larger than life bronze figures. They were slightly abstract but very eye-catching. The piece had been placed in the entrance foyer of a very prestigious insurance company and she made a very handsome amount of money from it. It had meant she had the cash to pay for the move, to have the house repainted and the kitchen updated as well as renovations to the studio. She even had a little left over. She might even be able to pay a little extra on her mortgage.
“I’d better get back to the office. You still coming to Jake’s party on Saturday?”
“Yes, I’ll be there. I’ve booked a room at the Shangri-La hotel so I don’t have to drive home.”
“Good idea, although you know you could have stayed at my place.”
“True. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”
“Bye, Erica.”
The two women stood and kissed good-bye. Isabella watched her friend walk away and then headed off to her car. The drive home took her almost two hours. It felt like she’d spent half of it trying to get through the city traffic. As she turned into the driveway she felt relieved. It had been great to catch up with Erica but she still wasn’t used to this long drive. She felt glad Erica was staying the night tomorrow rather than driving back to her London apartment in the dark. After parking the car Isabella walked over to the studio and looked in. The foreman spotted her and came over.
“Afternoon, Miss Coburn, almost finished.”
“It looks amazing.”
“We’ll be out of your hair Friday and then it’s all yours.”
“Thanks, Marvin. I know how fast you’ve got this done for me and I really appreciate it.”
“Been a pleasure working with you. Do you want to check on those cabinets we’ve put in and that big movable island? It’s quite wide.”
“Okay. I do need it wide, Marvin, but let’s check.”
The two walked over to where a row of cabinets were set against one wall. Isabella was pleased to see they had listened to her about the handles and not gone with something small. Next she looked at the large island. It was perfect for her and she told Marvin so. There was a dais set near the windows where she could work directly from a model and a large heavy-duty moveable easel with a table top to hold the clay as she worked.
He directed her to the workshop he’d set up beyond a doorway.
In here Isabella would do the metal chasing and welding on the piece before sending it back to the foundry for sand-blasting. She looked around the room. Marvin had set up an area for her grinders with plenty of space away from the welding area. Her enormous kiln was easily accessible. She nodded her approval.
Walking back to the main entrance, the two shook hands and Isabella went into the house, confident that everything was to her specifications. Hopefully next week she could get back into work. She’d ordered a new batch of clay and it was due to arrive around ten on Tuesday.
Chapter Two
Late on Saturday afternoon Isabella drove into the city once more. She and Erica had made short work of all the unpacking on Thursday and had dined on pizza while they watched a few girlie movies. Erica had left early Friday morning, leaving Isabella to take charge of the studio keys when the foreman closed the doors and declared the job finished mid-afternoon.
Leaving her car with the valet outside, Isabella signed in and took the elevator to the thirtieth floor. It pleased her to see her room was high enough to overlook the busy cityscape and she spent a few moments looking out the window.
The party wasn’t due to start until eight so she had plenty of time to take a leisurely bath. After her relaxing bath Isabella carefully dressed. She checked her reflection in the mirror and felt very happy with what she saw. The black tea-length capped-sleeve dress with its scooped neck, skirt gathered under the bust and lacy overlay looked lovely. She teamed it with silver strap stilettos and a silver clutch. Deciding to wear her long red hair in a braid fastened by a large silver clasp, she gave a little twirl, satisfied with the results. Throwing a thick Spanish shawl around her shoulders, she put her glasses, wallet, door key-card, and cell in her clutch. Then Isabella picked up a heavily wrapped parcel and headed downstairs to grab a cab.
The party was being held in one of the more upmarket galleries. Normally Isabella avoided affairs like this one but Jake Rose owned the gallery and she had often held exhibitions in it. Jake, turning seventy, was a well-known patron of the arts and someone who had a lot of clout in the art world. It just wouldn’t do to upset him. On top of that he was a dear friend who she truly liked. He wore outlandish clothes that somehow seemed to just make him even more larger than life. Jake had been in the art world since his late teens and everyone knew a word from him could make or break an artist. Isabella was very thankful he seemed to like her and her work.
Arriving at the venue, Isabella gave an inward groan—everybody and his dog plus a few extras were there. She wished she could jump back in the cab and leave but instead put on a smile and entered. All her adult life Isabella had tried to avoid these gatherings. They had always seemed so fake.
Pushing her way through the crowded rooms, she finally found Jake talking with a couple of Japanese businessmen who she knew had bought a few Leigh Price pieces. Jake was wearing some sort of flowing kaftan—bright yellow and green, one arm loaded down with multiple gold bracelets and chains. When the three saw her she was greeted with hugs, bows and air kisses.
“Ah, sweet Isabella. You make an old man positively happy when I see your beautiful visage floating through the room.”
He pulled her close and kissed her cheeks again.
“You do have a way to charm the hind leg off a dog, Jake.”
She handed over her present for Jake.
“Juste pour moi?”
She nodded. He gave a shout of delight when he’d unwrapped the gift. Inside was a small clay-fired bust of him. Although he knew she and Leigh Price were one and the same, he’d always kept her secret. Tonight he seemed genuinely pleased with the present.
“Look!” he shouted for everyone’s attention. “Look what this gorgeous creature has bestowed on moi. C’est moi. Regarde.”
He held the bust aloft as if it were a prize and Isabella felt she was on exhibit as well as the gift. People clustered around, trying to win kudos with Jake as they fawned over him and the bust. As quickly as she could Isabella moved off and went in search of Erica. She picked up a drink along the way and found her friend chatting to a stranger.
He looked to be in his mid-fifties, tall, slightly overweight but with rather attractive features. He had dark grey hair and eyes to match. He and Erica seemed to be getting along really well, in fact Isabella was very surprised when Erica laughed sweetly and laid a hand on his arm. She seemed to be pouring on a lot of charm and he had her full attention. Isabella tapped her on the shoulder and Erica turned.
“Isabella, hi!”
She gave Isabella the traditional French faire la bise, the salutatory kiss on each cheek, then introduced them.
“Isabella, this is Ian Holland. Ian, this is my very best friend Isabella Coburn.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
They shook hands as Erica told Isabella, “Ian is Gabriel Milford’s agent. Remember I told you about him the other day.”
Isabella looked puzzled for a moment, trying to recall the name then Erica smiled so innocently and said, “Remember? He’s the artist who is looking for a nude plus-sized model.”
“Oh.” Isabella glared pointedly at her friend before continuing in a rather stilted voice, “Yes, I remember now.”
Turning to Ian, Erica said, “Isabella used to be a nude artist’s model but gave it up.”
Isabella felt self-conscious under Ian’s sudden in-depth gaze. She wanted to head off where this was going.
“That’s right, but I haven’t done any for too many years. I just wouldn’t have the stamina now, the flexibility or the time.”
Erica tutted. She seemed determined to undermine anything Isabella said.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Isabella, you still do yoga every day.”
“I have to say, Isabella, you’re exactly what my client is looking for. I do wish you’d reconsider,” Ian said with a rather wistful voice.
Isabella was saved from further comment by the arrival of two of Erica’s most popular female models at the moment. They immediately gushed over Erica and wheedled an introduction to Ian. Both of them had a reputation for male conquest and it appeared they had marked Ian as their next target. Isabella took the opportunity to mumble a few indistinct words then moved away before anything else could be said about her modelling. She felt so angry at Erica for trying
to manipulate her into accepting the commission.
Wandering over to the buffet table, Isabella helped herself to a plate of finger foods and a glass of white wine. Not able to find anywhere to sit inside, she walked to the outside garden area where one of her sculptures was on permanent display. After settling on the small brick wall that divided the garden from the water feature Isabella glanced at her watch.
Damn! She’d have to stay at least another hour before she could make her escape. Isabella took to studying the passing parade. Normally she enjoyed watching people. Often it gave her ideas for a new piece but this was just too crowded.
People were jostling against each other. Most were there merely to improve their social standing or obtain work. The noise of everyone talking loudly over each other invaded her ears. False laughter echoed out to where she sat. There was so much perfume worn by the guests in the room it had begun to seep outside, cloying and sickly sweet. She could feel the makings of a headache.
“Excuse me, do you mind if I share your wall?”
She looked over. Ian Holland had approached from behind her and was waiting for her answer. Isabella held back a groan of dismay and tried to be polite.
“No, please do.”
He sat alongside her, a plate and glass of wine in his hands.
“I’m sorry about before. I know Erica has been trying to get you to accept the assignment.”
Wearily she answered, “Look, as I said I’m no longer in the game.”
“I wasn’t lying when I said you were what I was looking for.” He looked slightly embarrassed. “I wonder if you’d at least come down and talk with Gabriel.”
She turned slightly so she could face him.